Free Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) by Emma Hart

the wall.
    “Go? Go where?”
    “Home,” he grumbles. “I’m free to leave, and your alibi is covered in mine. Sheriff will probably ask you formally, but for now, we go.”
    I frown as he pulls me out of the back door and around the side of the inn. I guess he has no desire to be questioned repeatedly about what’s going on upstairs, but still… “That’s great, but why are we leaving? Why aren’t you up there?”
    His jaw clenches, and he releases my hand so he can grab his keys from his pocket. “Get in,” he orders me once it’s unlocked.
    That’s his don’t-argue-with-me-Noelle voice.
    I do as he asked and pull my shoes off, leaving them by my feet. “Drake?”
    He slams his car door after him, jams the key in the ignition, then rests his forearm on top of his steering wheel. The tiny light above us casts shadows across his rugged features, especially across his cheeks and stubbly jaw.
    “I’m unable to work on the case until interviews have been conducted, and even then, it’s pending the outcome of them.”
    “You’re… You’re not working on it?”
    He shakes his head sharply. “My previous relationship with him is enough to make my involvement in the case questionable, but Sheriff is willing to overlook that if everything else comes back clear.”
    “Everything as in…”
    “The suspects.” He drops his phone in my lap. “Now, do me a favor. Belt up and call my mother.”
    Oh, shit me.
    I decide not to tell him Bek’s trying. I select Gianna’s number from the call log while I click my seat belt into place with my other hand. It rings three times, and I hit the speaker just as she answers.
    “Hey, son.”
    “Are you at home?”
    The truck engine fires up with one hard twist of the key.
    “Yes,” she says. “I just ran a bath. Why?”
    I share a look with Drake. Not good. This is not good.
    “Did you get into it?” I ask.
    “Noelle? Hello, cara! Yes, I did—only just. I was there for a minute before y’all called a million times.”
    So she didn’t answer Bek’s calls.
    “Stay out,” Drake demands. His tires squeal as he tears out of the parking lot.
    I have to grab for his phone to stop it from sliding onto the floor.
    “Do not get back in the damn bath, Mother.”
    “Mother? Am I in trouble?”
    “I hope not,” he murmurs. “We’re coming over, yeah? Get dressed. We need to talk.”
    “I… Sure. Whatever you say.”
    The line clicks off.
    Drake slams his fist against his door. “Fuck!”
    I put the phone into the center console and look down. He pretty much summed up my feelings about this situation.
    “Does she not realize what she’s done? Does she not fuckin’ know? She married a cop. Then she fuckin’ raised one. Fuck!”
    “She might not know,” I say softly, reaching across and resting my hand on his thigh. “Don’t go in there with the mindset that she did this, because then you may as well just put her straight in a courtroom.”
    He glances at me. “She wouldn’t kill him. She was screwing him, Noelle.”
    “I’d kill you if you pissed me off that much. Nonna threatened it every day for twenty years when she was married to Nonno.”
    “Nonna would kill the president if he pissed her off. She’s a time bomb.”
    “True. One day, y’all are gonna find a dead body with her meatballs coming out of its ass and a wooden spoon protruding from their skull. That’d be her calling card. Her nickname would be the Meatball Bandit.”
    We stop at a red light, and he turns to me.
    “Stop trying to make me laugh,” he says.
    “Is it working?”
    “Shut up.”
    I grin. I win. “If I don’t call for a while, you know I’m the body and she’s the killer.”
    “If you were murdered, sweetheart, Nonna would be the prime suspect for the whole town. I’d be more shocked if she weren’t responsible.”
    “But you’d give her a fair shot at defending herself. You’d joke with her before you took it seriously.”
    “I see where you’re going with