The Choking Kind

Prologue - Weston

6 YEARS AGO...

I smirked, shaking my head. "What if they find you first?" I asked, my eyes locked on hers in a challenge.

"We just need you to recount what happened that night." In his cheap gray suit and ten-dollar reading glasses, the man leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest. I'm sure he thought the move was intimidating while having me sit in front of him like a child about to be scolded. Honestly, it only made me feel sorry for him. I didn't miss the way he glanced over at his partner. He was posturing for her, wanting her to notice how he'd swooped in to slay the big, bad dragon.

I cocked my head to the side but didn't respond, and he looked flustered for a moment as if he'd expected more of a reaction.

"She's dead." I glanced to my left, eyeing the woman again in the equally cheap suit with her auburn hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her gaze met mine, and she seemed momentarily taken aback by my words.

"You don't seem bothered by that," the woman spoke up, her voice wavering. She was new to this or not cut out for this line of work. Or maybe she was more affected by the death of a stranger than I was by someone I knew.

"Should I be?" I relaxed back into my seat, sinking lower into the metal folding chair to try to ease my discomfort.

"You were sleeping with her, weren't you?" She asked, her eyebrows pulled together as if I'd personally offended her. "Did her boyfriend know about your affair?"

"We didn't do much sleeping, to be honest, and you don't need to care about someone to fuck them."

"She was somebody's daughter," The woman snapped and took a step toward me, but her partner held out his hand to stop her from getting closer. I suppose the game of good cop/bad cop had begun.

"I was the only one she was calling daddy when we were together," I smirked as good cop lurched toward me, his hands circling my throat. The chair I sat on was knocked over, causing my skull to hit the concrete floor with a thud.

It took three others to pull his hands from me, and he was removed from the room before my eyes settled on the woman as I touched my finger to my lip that had become split, pulling back to look at the smattering of blood. I righted my seat, sinking back down onto it. She didn't speak, and I could tell she was tensed, afraid I'd demand a lawyer or threaten to sue, but I could take a punch. Instead, I cocked my head to the side, eyebrow raised. "You're partner hits like a bitch."

"You have a lot of experience with that? Being hit by a 'bitch' as you put it? Is that why little girls keep ending up dead around you?" she asked, taking a seat across from me.

I laughed, shaking my head as I propped my elbows on my knees.

"Is that your way of saying her boyfriend wasn't a man?"

"No," she replied with a smirk. "It's my way of telling you he isn't dead."

My smile faltered. "Bullshit."