33. What Do We Do About the Dead Body in My Bedroom?
WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT THE DEAD BODY IN MY BEDROOM?
Flynn
It’s a good question. One we need to deal with, but not before I’ve taken care of Hazel.
My Little Lilac knows how to fight, and pride burns inside of me. A twin flame to the rage at her ex for daring to touch what’s mine. I’m still vibrating, the urge to break bones pulsing in my fingers.
Hazel may have fought him off but that doesn’t mean she got out unscathed. She’s already going into shock, the freckles on the bridge of her nose stark against her ashen skin.
I nod at Lachlan in thanks as he comes through the archway from the kitchen carrying a steaming mug. Hazel has started to shake, so I take it from him and help her hold it as she brings it to her lips.
When she groans, panic punches my heart but then she says, “Does everyone make better hot chocolate than me?” The question shudders out of chattering teeth, but I laugh because it’s exactly like Hazel to lament her cooking skills only minutes after having been attacked.
“What you make can’t even be called hot chocolate,” I say, pressing my nose against her cheek. Her breath slips out of her at the contact, like just me touching her makes it easier to breathe. I wonder if she knows she does the same for me?
“He was supposed to take me somewhere,” Hazel whispers, and I actively focus on not tensing up. Hazel needs me calm right now. “To the senator.”
“I know,” I say. “Carmen hacked his emails.” Danny may not have been the one sent after Hazel, but he still left his house at two in the morning.
He’s probably waiting with the senator for Tommy to deliver Hazel to them.
Just the thought of how close Claren got to succeeding has me fantasizing over all the different ways I could kill him.
“Oh god.” Hazel jolts up, the hot chocolate splashing over the rim of the cup.
“Derek.” She turns to me, her gaze panicked.
“They have Derek. I thought they had you, but they didn’t.
We need to go. We need to call the police.
” Caught in a whirlwind, Hazel tries to scramble off the couch, but I hold her to me, sliding my hand around the back of her neck.
“Hey, slow down. Breathe.”
“We don’t have time. I can’t believe I was just sitting here. Oh my god—”
I cradle her head in my hands, digging my fingers in just enough to catch her attention. “Breathe, Hazel.”
Her chest heaves as she sucks in air, her brown eyes blinking rapidly, unfocused.
“Again.”
I breathe in for her, leading with a slow, steady pace, and her gaze settles.
“Now, explain,” I say.
Hazel fiddles with the collar of my shirt as she talks.
“I think he thought Derek was my boyfriend. He showed me a video of him.” She grimaces, her fingers clenched around my shirt.
“He was tied up. Tommy said if I didn’t go with him, they’d kill Derek.
” She looks up at me, fear swirling in her deep brown eyes.
“If I don’t show up, Derek’s dead, Flynn. ”
I care very little about the life of the guy who stood Hazel up, but she’s had enough people in her life die.
I would do anything for Hazel and if she wants to save Detective Douche, then we save Detective Douche.
“I guess we better make it look like Tommy succeeded then,” I say.
“How do you feel about that whole being kidnapped idea?”
Hazel peers up at me in the dark as I reach behind her to check the ropes binding her wrists. “Is this like one of your fantasies?”
My lip quirks. “Having you tied up and helpless? Definitely. Putting you in the trunk of the car? Not so much.”
Hazel clenches her thighs together, her reply coming out breathy. “Good to know.”
“You sure you’re okay with this?” I ask.
She draws back her shoulders and nods. “We have to make it look real, right?”
That’s the plan. In trying to kidnap Hazel, Claren inadvertently created the perfect opportunity for us.
I pretend to be Tommy, and we walk right up to the senator.
“I’ve done a false knot,” I tell her. “You pull on the end of the rope, and it will come loose. If you need out of the trunk just kick it three times, I’ll pull over and let you out straight away. ”
The hint of a smile grazes Hazel’s dusky lips. “Relax, Flynn. I’ll be fine. I’ve even got the pen knife you gave me.”
“Tell me the plan for when we get there.”
My bratty Little Lilac rolls her eyes. “We’ve been over this three times.”
I tug on the ropes around her wrists and back her up against Tommy’s shitty car. “And we’ll go over it again and again until I’m happy. Tell me.”
“You get me out of the trunk. As soon as we’re inside, I run, find somewhere to hide and stay there until you come get me.” Hazel bites her lip, so many thoughts rushing behind her eyes. “Are you going to kill Claren?”
I give her a look. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to, Lilac.”
Her throat bobs and I lean past her to open the trunk. It’s an old car, one with an isolated trunk, completely cut off from the rest of the vehicle.
“Ready?” I ask.
Hazel eyes the small compartment but she nods.
I lift her up and place her gently in the trunk. “What do you do if you want to get out?”
“Kick three times.”
“Good girl.”
I brace my hand against the roof of the trunk. “Hey, Flynn,” Hazel peers up at me from under her wavy bangs. “Kiss me.”
Desire rides my body at her words. My focus had been on making sure she was okay after Tommy’s attack, but I don’t need to be told twice.
I wrap my hand around her neck and draw her up, pressing my lips to hers and parting her mouth.
I kiss her until she’s breathless, until the pressure in my head disappears and her sweet, honeyed taste is on my tongue. Marking me.
We pull apart and Hazel looks up at me with lazy eyes. “Do that again after all this is over.”
“Every day for the rest of our lives,” I promise, then Hazel lies back down and I close the trunk.
Lachlan steps out on the porch, arms crossed. “Be safe, Flynn.”
“You’ll take care of the body?”
He dips his head in acknowledgement.
“For Hope,” I say, both of us knowing Claren is finally going to pay the price for what he did to our sister.
“For Hope,” Lachlan echoes.
I go to the front of the car and get in the driver’s seat.
Tommy’s vehicle is as disgusting as he was with fast food wrappers strewn across the passenger side and a layer of grease and dust over every surface. I’ve got my gloves on, and I don’t want to think about why the black leather sticks to the steering wheel.
We used Tommy’s dead face to unlock his phone. Hazel replayed the video and it didn’t take me long to recognize where Derek is being held so I pull out of Hazel’s drive and head towards the free clinic.
It’s pretty smart really. What better place to orchestrate an abduction than an unfinished building site that you have private ownership over?
The thing I can’t figure out is why Claren wants Hazel.
If she was bait to lure me in, then it would make sense.
I have the video Ana gave me, the evidence that will be his downfall.
But they clearly think Derek is her boyfriend.
Part of me wants to turn around, to leave Hazel with Lachlan and go to the clinic by myself. Except Claren has the home advantage. He’s had time to prepare and the chances of me walking into that clinic without Hazel are practically zero.
It takes fifteen minutes to get to the neighborhood the clinic is in, and the roads are quiet at this time of night.
Quiet enough that I should have noticed we were being followed.
But I’m distracted thinking about Hazel and it’s not until I’ve parked outside the clinic that I clock the motorcycle across the street.
My brow furrows, something about the bike seeming familiar. I keep half an eye on it as I round the car and pop the trunk. I shouldn’t have been looking at the bike though, I should have been looking for its rider.
Hazel scowls up at me. “You drive bumpy.”
I laugh. “I’ll work on it for the next time I’m lugging someone around in the trunk of my car.” I pick her up and set her on her feet but when I turn to close the trunk fire slices into the side of my stomach, a knife clanging against the car.
“Hazel, run!” a voice from behind me calls. Wright. It’s Wright’s fucking bike.
I stumble, bracing myself against the car as I press my hand against my bleeding side. Motherfucker.
“Flynn,” Hazel cries.
“I’m okay,” I grit out. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Wright, no!” Hazel spins, her hands still tied behind her back. I turn to find Wright standing a few feet away, another throwing knife at the ready.
“Let her go. Now,” she demands.
“Wright, it’s not how it looks,” Hazel rushes to explain. “Put the knife down, please.”
“Are all your friends this stabby?” I ask, trying to disassociate from the pain.
Wright glares at me, looking like a gothic warrior with her leather jacket and piercings. “He put you in the trunk, Hazel. He tied you up.”
Hazel pulls on the rope, tugging her hands free and holding them up. “See. I’m fine. It’s not what you think.”
Wright looks between us then lowers her knife. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”