Raspberry Tart Terror (Murder in the Mix #30) - Addison Moore Page 0,1
little life.
“Good grief.” Ivy pulls me to the side by the elbow. “How far along are you with this mystery child of yours?”
“Eight months,” I pant. “I have to see them, Ivy.” By mystery child she’s alluding to the fact I’m still not sure if either Everett or Noah is the baby’s father. “And who knows what will happen to the baby if I don’t see them right now? Out of my way. I need to see Noah and Everett, and not even that weapon glued to your hip can stop me.”
Her gaze drifts down my swollen body and her eyes squeeze shut a moment.
“Come with me.” Ivy navigates us through the screaming crowd of reporters as a sea of bodies press against us the closer we get to the nucleus of this disaster. The shouting, the questions lighting up the air, the flash of a dozen cameras, it’s a dizzying effect that I can’t seem to escape. I’m not sure if I deserve to.
Ivy yanks me through a white door, and I hear the solid click behind us as it seals us into the processing area. The air is cooler, the lights are brighter with far less bodies to contend with, and thankfully, two of those bodies happen to be the right ones.
“Noah, Everett.” Their names come out in a whisper as I watch the carnage with disbelief.
Everett looks right at me just before a bright light ignites as they take his picture. He’s standing in front of a striped wall that marks off his height, and he looks every bit the criminal they’re making him out to be.
His cobalt blue eyes siren my way with serious intent, and it feels as if the entire room fades away for a moment. I can feel his love for me, but the only thing I deserve right now is his condemnation.
Judge Essex Everett Baxter is as handsome as they come with a cutting brand of glory that should very well be illegal. He’s tall, has the body of a linebacker, and looks lean and mean in that dark suit he’s wearing. He commands the attention of every ovary-bearing female in the vicinity without even trying and hardly ever smiles.
They bark at him to turn to the side and he complies, allowing them to take a shot of his profile, and my heart breaks just witnessing the spectacle.
To the left I see Noah, the very first man I have ever truly loved, as they take his hand and lay it over a scanner to capture his fingerprints.
Noah Corbin Fox and I have a storied history. We were on and off again so often it feels as if we’re in some sort of holding pattern at the moment. He too is tall, with a body built for speed in all the right places, dark hair that turns red at the tips, dimples for days, and commanding green eyes.
“I’ve done this,” I whisper, and Noah’s head snaps in my direction.
“Lottie,” he says as he finishes up in haste, and before I know it, I’m in his strong arms. “It’s going to be okay.” He dots a simple kiss to my temple. “I promise you. It’s all going to work out.”
It’s just like Noah to try to make me feel better, to offer up assurances even though I’ve brought the mess upon myself.
A flurry of deputies sweeps in, and soon Everett is hustled in our direction.
The sound of dozens of voices shouting at once erupts and my eardrums sting from the chaos.
“Don’t you dare open your mouth, Noah,” Everett grits through his teeth. “Lemon, go home.” He pins his stern eyes to mine. “Now,” he grunts it out as a command.
“No,” I riot right back as this entire sea of noise and melee we’re enmeshed in moves to the left. “I’m not leaving,” I shout.
“Lemon,” Everett shouts back as he’s escorted away at a quickened clip.
Lemon is Everett’s pet name for me—my surname. Even though Everett and I are technically married, I haven’t taken his name as my own.
Our marriage was more of a business arrangement when we dove into matrimonial waters over a year ago. I did it so he could meet the requirements of his trust fund.
And well, not long after that, Noah and I agreed that I should see if there was anything left between Everett and me. Come to find out, there was, and we’ve been together for the last few months as an official couple. Everett did the same for