"How could you love him?" Roman asked in a low, deep voice that teased over my nerve endings and made my palms sweat.
Agitated at his effect on me, I kept my eyes forward, glued to the TV where Brent Griffin of the Local 4 was interviewing Tom's attorney. Thank god he was twenty times more competent than f*****g Max Cain Esquire and his fumbling hands. In fact, the longer I watched, the more hope built up in my heart. Apparently, police had yet to find ties to more than just light dealing.
And yeah, it was prison time but it wasn't death by injection.
Roman circled around the couch and sank in the seat next to me, leaning back and crossing large arms over his chest. We watched together for a bit until the segment switched to a commercial, "I really don't get it." He shook his head again
