Why couldn’t they just sentence him now and move him out of state?

Except there was no stopping this train, evidently. So he and Ramsey’s fricking subordinate with the new girl and the need-my-weekends problem left the block and followed the same path Edward had been led through the other night.

When he was let into the interrogation room, he sat down in the same seat as he had before.

It had to be Shelby giving things another shot. She and Ramsey were best friends, weren’t they. Who else, other than her, would the guy take things this far for?

But never again, Edward thought.

This time, he’d play real hardball with the young woman. He was due a phone call or two a week—and if she insisted on shirking her duties out at the farm, just so she could drive all the way into town to bug him about absolutely nothing? That was grounds for dismissal—

He knew by the smell of the perfume.

As the interrogation room door opened, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Must de Cartier.

And then came the delicate clipping sound of expensive high-heeled shoes.

Which was harmonized by a low, very well-modulated female voice: “Thank you.”

The guard stammered something—a not unusual response of the male sex when they were addressed by Sutton Smythe. And then the door was re-shut and locked.

By the sounds of those stilettos and the shifting of clothes, Edward knew she had taken a seat opposite him.

“You aren’t going to look at me,” Sutton said softly.

His heart thundered and he could feel the heat in his face. And the only reason he popped his lids was because he refused to appear to be as weak as he felt.

Sometimes pride was a poor man’s only sword and shield.

Oh . . . dear God.

Red Armani suit. Cream blouse. Brunette hair in a chignon. Nails painted the same red as the suit. Pearls at the throat, face tinted with just enough makeup to give her a little color. And yet none of those details really registered.

He was too busy being knocked on his ass even as he stayed in his bolted-to-the-floor chair.

Oh, God, she was still wearing his earrings, the ruby ones he’d bought her from Van Cleef & Arpels. And as he focused on them, her fingertips went to one lobe.

“I’ve come from work,” she said. As if that explained something. “I just decided to stop by.”

All he could think about was the fact that she wore what he had given her even when she didn’t know she was going to see him.

Edward cleared his throat. “How are you? Growing into your new role as CEO?”

“Really.” Her eyes narrowed. “We’re going to make social chitchat?”

“You’ve just started to run a multi-billion-dollar corporation. That is hardly chitchat.”

“And you’ve been arrested for murder.”

“I guess we’re both in for some life changes. I’m certain yours come with a better salary and food.”

“Damn you, Edward.”

As he fell silent, he tried to ignore the sheen in her eyes.

After a moment, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Blowing me off right before you came in here? Or killing your father.”

“Sutton, you don’t need this”—he motioned around the interrogation room—“in your life. I knew I was going to end up here. What did you expect me to do?”

She leaned in. “I expected you not to take my choice away from me. Which is what grown-ups do with other grown-ups.”

“You’re the new head of the Sutton Distillery Corporation, a company that your beloved father spent his entire life helming. What you do and who you relate with matters—now more than ever, and you know that—”

“Stop it,” she bit out. “Stop trying to cover up that you’re a coward.”

“Did you come here just to argue that point with me? Because I don’t believe that agenda is going to get either of us anywhere.”

“No, I’m here because your brother asked me to see you—and because Lane was smart enough to know that unless Ramsey was involved, you would shut me out, too.”

Edward crossed his arms over his chest. “Lane needs to leave well enough alone.”

“Miss Aurora is asking for you. At the hospital.”

Now Edward was the one narrowing his eyes. “She’s awake? Last I heard she was not doing at all well.”

“She is evidently saying your name, over and over again.”

“I’m surprised it isn’t Lane’s.”

“I believe so is he.” There was a pause. “Can you think of any reason she would feel the need to speak to you right before she died?”

Abruptly, Edward found it hard to breathe. He kept that to himself, however.

Making sure his face showed nothing, he slowly shook his head. “No. Not at all.”

TWENTY

As Sutton sat across from Edward, she was torn. She wanted to keep confronting him about their relationship—or, hell, whatever it was they had between them—but there was a larger, more important imperative. When Lane had called her from the hospital, it was obvious he was shaken up, and as he had spoken to her with great, shocking candor, it had become readily apparent why he was upset.

And of course she had volunteered to try to get in front of Edward.

She didn’t think she was going to have the magical effect on the man that his brother seemed to think she would, however. Edward Baldwine had always gone his own way, and she would be a fool to think she was the one person who could get through to him.

But she had to try.

“None whatsoever?” she prompted him. “You can think of no reason your name would be on Miss Aurora’s lips.”

“Maybe she’s worried about Lane and wants me to help. I don’t know. Ask her.”

“Are you aware that there are security cameras out at the Red and Black?”

“Why are we talking about my farm? I thought this was about Miss Aurora.”

“Cameras.” She pointed high in the air. “Up under the roofs of the barns?”

“You know, I think it’s time for me to go—”

“Sit down,” she snapped as he began to get to his feet.

Edward’s brows lifted. And something about her resolve must have shown in her face because he slowly sank back down into the metal chair.

Good move on his part—she had been prepared to tackle him if she had to.

“You didn’t leave the farm on the night of the murder,” she announced. “And don’t deny it. There’s nothing on the cameras to show you or anyone else did—and if you’d used the truck you said you’d taken, there would have been footage of you driving off in it.”

“Do my brother a favor, would you? And tell him to stop with the theories.”

“Lizzie found a knife in Miss Aurora’s quarters this morning.”

“She’s a chef. They’re known to use—”

“In a plastic bag. Behind a picture of Lane.”

Edward planted his hands on the tabletop and pushed himself up. “I’m leaving. Have a nice life, Sutton—and I mean that.”

Sutton let him limp over to the door and start knocking. When no one came, he called out, “Guard.”

“They’re not going to answer,” she said without turning around.

“Why.”

“Because I told them not to.”

He knocked louder. “Guard!”

“Talk to me about the knife, Edward. You know something. You’re protecting someone. And I get all that—it’s in your nature. But here’s the thing. Lane’s not going to quit until you walk out of here a free man, and neither am I.”

“What the hell is wrong with you people!” He wheeled around and came back over. “You’ve got lives to live! Companies to run—why the fuck do either of you care—”

She jumped up and met him face-to-face. “Because we love you! And when someone you love is doing something wrong, you want to stop them!”

Edward’s fury darkened his eyes to almost black and the veins stood out in his neck. “You’re not even a member of my family—you don’t count. Mind your own damn business!”