22. Hope
CHAPTER 22
Hope
“D id you kill him?” I ask Hawke.
He huffs like a child, crossing his arms over his chest. “No. You wouldn’t be finding a fucking body in the dumpster if I did it.”
I expel a sigh. “Then who the fuck did it?”
“How the fuck should I know?” he exclaims. “I was just there for titty and ass, and since when do you care who I do and don’t kill?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t care who you kill, Hawke. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t becoming senile and messy. You know he’s probably already suspicious of our family’s involvement with this serial killer situation.”
He clicks his tongue. “Well, I don’t know who the fuck it is, but I tip my hat to them. They’re running circles around everyone. However, I’m not getting pinned for their inability to clean up after themselves.”
“That’s rich, a killer criticizing another killer’s process.”
He stares at me wide-eyed. “What’s gotten into you today? Are you fucking that detective? Because, I swear to God, if you are, the secret is out the window, and Daddy Gloves is finding out. That detective won’t even last another twelve hours.”
I snort. “Twelve hours is assuming my father decides to take a nap during that time. And, no, I’m not sleeping with him.” I lie effortlessly. “But we just need to be careful; he’s sniffing around our family. That’s never a good thing, right?”
Hawke looks at me—really looks at me. “Since when did you get so involved with the family business or start caring about who’s sniffing what? I thought your father kept you away from all of this.”
The reality is he does. But it doesn’t make me ignorant about it. And having Braxton’s attention focused on us has made me more conscious about it than ever.
“He does, but I’m not a kid anymore.”
Hawke doesn’t seem convinced. “There’s something you’re not telling me about all of this. It feels off, and I think you’re lying about something.”
“Should we talk about how you’ve been off lately as well? You’ve been at clubs a lot more recently since the incident with Ford and Billie.” I deflect. He opens and closes his mouth, then looks away, and I realize I hit home. I almost feel guilty for it.
I’m conflicted about telling him the truth. Yes, I’m lying. Only a marginal amount of guilt sits in my stomach about it, but not enough to tell him my secrets, especially when it’ll only turn on me.
“I’m not lying. I just don’t want anyone else touching him. I want to kill him myself. And I know if he keeps snooping, someone else is going to do it before me.” I elaborate.
He snorts. “I give you credit, little red. I know it’s your first time and all, but you’re being very methodical about this. If you want someone dead, you just kill them. Fuck the gun. Slit his throat or something.”
I know he’s speaking the truth, but I’ve envisioned it so many times: how Braxton and I will come to an end with me pointing a gun at his head. I’ve lived it so many times in my head I can’t pull away from it. I don’t want to. It’s the vision I hold, and once I see something so divinely, I have to express it. It’s the same as with my work.
I pull up at Ford’s house, and Hawke stares out the window, only just realizing I brought him here instead of his house. “You’re miserable when you’re by yourself. I figured you would want to come here instead.”
“But if Billie’s here, there’s no point.” He sulks.
I roll my eyes. Big baby. “I’m going to have a girls’ night with Billie and Ivy. I was on my way to their place when I got the call from Ford that I was closest to the club and to get you out of there before you started any trouble.” Before Hawke can ask, I add. “Your mother was tipped off by security about the murder.”
His jaw snaps shut again because we know how quickly gossip spreads among our family, which is why my car was tracked to be the closest to get him out and my father was on the phone. My Aunt Anya has eyes and ears everywhere, just like every member of the family,
“Me? Trouble?” He smirks. “He does still care.”
“Go and kiss and make up so I can have my girls’ night.”
Ford opens the front door, looming there with arms crossed over his chest, looking the part of a seriously pissed off dad as Felix, his cat, rubs against his legs. The two tolerate each other at best, and Ford is definitely not the cat’s favorite person.
Hawke basically bounces out of the car but leans down before closing the door. “I’m serious, though, little red. If you’re fucking that detective, you’re in deep trouble. I just don’t want to see you used or hurt.”
I’m actually surprised. Hawke is the last person I thought capable of feelings, especially when they have anything to do with romance. “You think I would give someone that much power?” I ask with a smile that seems to fill him with confidence in the situation.
“I’m just saying, people start doing crazy shit when they’re in love.” He says it so loudly I know it’s targeted at his brother. I’m laughing when he closes the door. I leave them to their sibling squabble as I pull away from the curb and head to Ivy and Billie’s apartment.
When I left Braxton’s place, I needed my girls. I can’t explain it. I’m not often dependent on people, but the feeling of going home after being with Braxton felt wrong.
* * *
I’m not even through the door when Billie throws a cozy hoodie and some sweatpants in my direction.
“You’re late. Strip. Mask on,” Ivy says, shaking a cocktail mixer in their kitchen.
Billie laughs wearing, a pink sweatsuit and a facemask. I do as they say, turning my back to them.
“Oh, gosh, why are you being so shy?” Billie asks.
“Shut up. I’m not wearing any underwear,” I grit.
“I’ve seen worse,” Ivy says, and I can hear the hint of a smile in her voice.
“Why were you late? You were supposed to be here an hour ago,” Billie says, far more softly than Ivy.
I know they’ve been waiting for me so we can watch the new thriller that just came out. I’m grateful to these two because they’ll often let me choose the movie, even if horror and thrillers aren’t their usual scene. Sometimes, we’ll soften the blow by watching a romantic comedy and end up more disgusted than with the blood and guts we’d see in my choices. Balance.
I readjust the clothes, which are slightly too big for me, at least in length. “There was a murder at a club, and I had to pick up Hawke from there. It’s the same club we were at a few weeks ago.” I make a pointed look at Ivy.
She gasps. “Oh shit! That doesn’t look good for him. Did the cops try to take him in?” she asks, handing me a cocktail. I take a sip and am almost swept away by the amount of alcohol.
“Jesus. Are you trying to kill me with one drink?”
“It’s girls’ night.” She shimmies her shoulders and takes a seat on the sofa. I follow suit. Billie is sitting with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, and an array of freshly baked sweets is spread out on the coffee table. Most likely cooked by Billie herself.
“And, no, I ‘removed’ Hawke from the situation before he could make it any worse.”
Ivy smirks, and Billie tries not to laugh. Yes, that’s classic Hawke. “He can’t be trusted now that he’s trying to go solo. He’s miserable.” I’m trying not to laugh as I say it.
Billie shrugs a shoulder. “I swear, I still give them plenty of brotherly bonding time.”
“Oh God, please don’t tell me they still shower together,” Ivy says, and then her mind immediately wanders off. “Then again… I’m not against that scene at all.”
Billie smacks her arm. “Hey, back off. No nasty thoughts of my man.”
Ivy’s laughing as she puts her hands up in surrender. “I’m joking. But not really. Speaking of men… Spill the beans, Hope.”
“Oh yeah, about the detective!” Billie chirps as she grabs a pillow. Fuck . I was really hoping I could avoid this topic. “What does your father think of it?”
“Stop!” I’m quick to say. “It’s not like that.”
“It certainly looked like it at the club,” Ivy murmurs as she takes a sip of her drink.
I sigh. “It was one kiss. I slept with him four years ago and didn’t know he was a detective.” I stop. “Wait, how do you know he’s a detective?”
Ivy looks away, and I growl. “Did Hawke spill that info, or were your magic little fingers working a keyboard?”
“I’ll have it known that my fingers are magical no matter what they touch. But, of course, I was curious as to who he was. I haven’t seen you into anyone before, and you were really into eating his face.”
Heat streaks my cheeks as I think not only of that kiss but the fact that I was with him not even two hours ago, being railed to within inches of my life. And allowing him to fuck me with a gun too. Fuck me, I’m so far gone.
“There’s not much to tell. We had sex like four years ago. I didn’t know at the time who he was. It was a one-night stand. The end. I had a few drinks that night, and it just happened. But that’s it, and that’s all that will happen.” Billie and Ivy exchange a glance, biting their bottom lips. They want to argue. “I’m serious.”
“Is that really all you’re going to tell us? Is he at least packing a big cock?” Ivy asks.
Billie starts laughing, and I can’t help but do the same. I’m used to hearing about Ivy’s conquests and Billie’s before Ford on the rare occasions her brother never found out and the poor guy didn’t end up terrorized or dead. But it feels strange to be in this position, especially as I remind them nothing is going on between me and Braxton.
And it has to stay that way.
This can’t get out. Even if I want to gossip with my best friends about it.
And besides, it was a one-off.
That delicious little creature in the depths of my soul wants to come to life all over again. But it’s not a risk I can take. Having more sex like that will definitely ruin any other man for me. Braxton will ruin me and draw out that thing I’ve tried to suppress for so long.
It resides alongside my deepest darkest secrets, including my fixation with the dead.
Some lies are best buried, and so I’ll take Braxton to the grave with me. But I’ll be putting him in his own coffin first.