“Hammer…” Edge glared at him, but the man ignored him.
“How long, Ms. Marks?”
“They locked me in the goddamn storeroom.” I glared at Edge and then turned back to the attorney. “I was in there for at least fifteen minutes when he knocked on the door and told me that Steel was going to make sure I got home okay.”
“Steel?”
“The bouncer,” Edge answered before I could.
“Could he have shot him?”
“Negative. He went back inside before I left.”
“Could he have come back out?”
“No.” I interrupted. I was the one who was still there after Edge had left. Why the fuck was he answering all the questions? “Steel followed me home and walked me in.”
“Did he stay?”
“No.”
“Did you go back to the bar?”
“Hammer!” This time Edge stood and banged his fist on the table. “Stop this!”
“I need to know, Edge. Either I ask the questions, or I walk the fuck out of here. Which is it going to be?”
Edge scrubbed his face with his hand. “Go on, then. But tread carefully.”
“Did you go back to the bar?”
“No.”
“Did you go anywhere else?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“Went to bed.”
“With anyone?”
Edge stalked toward the lawyer and got in his face. “Enough, Hammer,” he seethed.
“Back the fuck off, Edge.” He turned back to me. “Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
“Yes.”
“What was your motive, Ms. Marks?”
“The fucker killed my mother.”
The lawyer took a deep breath, let it out, and looked at Edge. “Now you see what we’re up against.”