Hate F*@k: part two

by Booth, Ainsley

  Contents

  Hate Fuck

  About This Book

  one - Hailey

  two - Cole

  three - Hailey

  four - Cole

  five - Hailey

  six - Cole

  seven - Hailey

  eight - Cole

  nine - Hailey

  ten - Cole

  eleven - Hailey

  twelve - Cole

  thirteen - Hailey

  If you liked this book...

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  HATE

  F*@K

  Cole and Hailey

  part two

  a serial romance in

  The Horus Group series

  by

  Ainsley Booth

  www.ainsleybooth.com

  HATE FUCK: Cole & Hailey Part 2

  It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Then it’s business as usual.

  Cole:

  I fucked up, but I can fix this.

  Hailey:

  This can’t be fixed.

  Not a standalone story! Part one is currently available, click here.

  Part three, the conclusion of this serial, will be released at the end of April, 2015.

  —one—

  Hailey

  I have never been so worried and so pissed off at the same time.

  It takes me a solid half-hour to climb up off my living room floor. In the shower, I scrub my skin raw, getting the smell of Cole off me—and then I instantly regret the loss of him. Which only makes me cry again, because he was just arrested and that can’t be good.

  I need to tell someone he didn’t do it. I mean, he can’t have done it. Right? The man who made love to me—or at least, fucked me with a crazy level of intensity and all the feelings—just hours before did not leave my apartment and shoot a woman.

  He has to be covering for someone.

  It has to be a mistake.

  I scrub myself all over again.

  Out of the shower, I call in sick to work. I’m already late, but they don’t seem to mind—big surprise, Hailey has another drama. I will never get the permanent job at this rate, but somehow that doesn’t seem quite as important as clearing Cole or protecting my quiet, little life. After I change my name, I can start job hunting again.

  After carefully choosing my best trying-not-to-be-noticed outfit and finding my biggest, darkest sunglasses and matching baseball hat, I head out the door. I can’t go to the cops. There’s no press here, but there will be at the police station downtown.

  And I’m still a Reid. It’s not in our nature to voluntarily talk to the authorities.

  No, there’s only one option.

  I get in my rarely used car and head for the offices of The Horus Group.

  I remember from our very first briefing with them, they chose their office building for a few reasons, including the fact that the underground parking garage has three entrances and the entire space is covered by video surveillance.

  Cole held my gaze. It was the middle of the night, and we were in full panic mode. If my father was arrested…

  “If anything ever happens, and you’re scared…you come to us. The press can’t come into the parking garage. Circle the block and call us. We’ll make sure you can get in safely.”

  The next day, my car was taken for window tinting.

  Today’s the first time I’ll actually need to do this spy routine, and I can’t even pretend I’m not nervous.

  It’s a slow drive, being rush hour, and sure enough, when I finally get there, cameras and people are blocking the first entrance to the parking garage, the one beside the main doors to the building. But around the block, the back entrance looks unobserved. I pull in to the gate then press the code I’ve memorized.

  My heart thumps painfully as I get out and head for the elevator. Nerves prickle my skin, and I have a little freak-out when I press the button for the second floor and nothing happens. All of a sudden, a small screen above the buttons lights up, and I see the receptionist for The Horus Group.

  “Ms. Reid, my apologies for the elevator being locked down.” The second floor button lights up, and the car starts to move. “See you in a minute.”

  I nod mutely before she disappears.

  When the doors slide open, she’s waiting with a bottle of water for me. “I’m Ellie, by the way, if you don’t remember me. I didn’t know we were expecting anyone.”

  I look around.

  “They’re not here. There’s been an incident.” She looks so calm.

  “Yeah, I saw the news. I need to talk to…” Well, Cole probably isn’t an option. “One of them. As soon as possible. It’s about what happened.”

  “I’ll let Jason know you’re here. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Do you want to wait in a meeting room? Can I get you anything?” She’s moving toward the desk, totally efficient. Not freaked out in the least—I don’t get how she can be calm.

  “No, thank you.” I watch her for a moment. My age, probably, maybe a year or two older. Pretty. Capable. Does she know she works for soulless bastards? “I’ll just wait here.”

  “Okay.” She offers me a quiet smile and picks up the phone.

  Twenty minutes later, Jason walks in from the stairwell. He looks intent, busy. Uncharacteristically dressed-down in jeans and a black t-shirt, and I realize that he too probably got out of bed in the middle of the night.

  “Hailey!” His voice is friendly and welcoming, but his gaze is hard and flat.

  My pulse flutters in my neck, and I’m not sure I can actually form words. Maybe this is a mistake. “Where’s Cole?”

  He pulls his brows together.

  “Maybe we should go up to my office,” he says, pointing to the third floor.

  Upstairs, there’s a large conference room in the middle, across from the elevators, and offices are at the front and back of the building. Jason’s is at the front, looking down at the main entrance. I walk to the window. What looks like the entire Washington press corps is now amassed out front.

  Jason doesn’t bother to follow my gaze before saying dismissively, “More of them followed me here.”

  “I got in the back entrance no problem,” My voice trembles, and it’s so quiet I’m not sure he can even hear me.

  “We’ll make sure you get out without being noticed, one way or another.” When I turn around, he’s still standing beside his desk. He waits until I settle in the chair opposite before he sits down himself. “You saw the news today?”

  “I did. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Cole didn’t kill that woman. He arrived at the Fletcher house after I did.”

  “I know. He…he was with me before that.”

  Jason’s dark eyes turn black as I speak, sending icy cold fear down my spine. But when he speaks, his words surprise me. “I’m sorry.”

  I wait for more. He doesn’t give it, and I don’t know what to say. What is he sorry for? He didn’t do anything. If anyone needs to be sorry, it’s Cole, but even then…he’s never hidden who he is. I went into last night with my eyes wide open. A meaningless fuck with a bad boy.

  Obviously, that’s exactly what I got.

  If I’m a suck who can’t handle that, it’s on me.

  “I’m prepared to make a statement to the police.” My entire body is shaking now, but it’s the right thing to do. “I’d prefer to do it as discretely as possible, of course, but—”

  Jason stands suddenly and I cut myself off. He starts pacing as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

  “I mean, the discretion isn’t as important as clearing Cole’s name,” I continue, my mouth dry. I remember the bottle of water Ellie pressed into my hands and I twist off the cap. �
�It’s just…”

  “You don’t need to do this,” Jason says, now staring out the window. His voice is strong and clear, showing none of the nerves rioting through my body. “If it’s too much of a bother.”

  “Excuse me?” I push myself to a stand. “It’s not a bother. It’s the right thing to do. But I have a right to try and protect myself.” Someone has to. Cole certainly didn’t think about me before walking into the middle of a crime scene and making himself the prime suspect.

  Jason shrugs, and white hot rage replaces the nerves inside me. I cast about for the right words, but none come. I don’t understand what it is we’re doing here, and as mad as I am at Cole, I wonder if anyone here has his back.

  After a beat, Jason turns around, his t-shirt pulling against his straining biceps. Even at rest, he’s a pit bull. Where Cole is big in a safe, protective way, Jason is scary looking. The pissed-off look on his face doesn’t help.

  “Maybe it would be best if you leave before he gets here.”

  “He’s coming here?” I squeeze my hands together, distracted by the thought that Cole is, at least temporarily, free. “So…what does that mean?”

  Another shrug. I really hate Jason’s shoulders right now. “Tag and our lawyer are at the station now. He hasn’t been taken to central booking, as far as I know. He might not be charged with anything today.”

  I don’t understand. Hasn’t he been arrested?

  “All of this is beyond me, and I don’t get why you’re mad at me, when I haven’t done anything, but if I can move that might to a definitely won’t be, I want to help.”

  Jason opens his mouth and pauses before saying something obviously different from his first thought. “Look, you don’t need to worry about Cole. He’s a big boy.”

  Fuck that noise.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I see him.” I sit down and pull out my phone.

  It’s a long, silent minute before Jason grunts. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  —two—

  Cole

  Jail would be better than sitting across a desk from Detective Kendra Browning in the middle of the precinct like I’ve been brought to heel.

  A Russian gulag might be better. Kendra makes my nuts want to crawl back into my body for protection.

  Sure, she’s beautiful. Smart. One of the good guys.

  The problem is, I am not.

  “Mr. Parker, you need to answer my questions.”

  I only want one woman calling me Mr. Parker, and it’s not Kendra. I stare back at her, confident in my Miranda-protected right to shut the fuck up. Being under arrest is a pain in my ass. And she won’t even put me in an interrogation room so I can demand my lawyer and be left alone.

  I’ve been here for an hour, after being transferred from another precinct. I’m not sure why Major Case wasn’t involved from the start, and I don’t really care. I just need to hang tight until one of my partners shows up with a lawyer, then I can go and find the asshole who killed Anabeth Fletcher.

  If it’s my client, that’s going to be awkward, but I don’t think it is. We only had just over an hour with him before the police showed up—presumably called by someone who knew there was a dead body in the house.

  Someone responsible for that death.

  The entire time we were there, he was in shock. Real shock, not an act.

  That’ll happen when you don’t remember falling asleep, then wake up in your den, a gun in your hand and a dead wife upstairs in your bed.

  As soon as we all got there, we knew something didn’t add up—right now, Wilson is getting a private lab to run Fletcher’s blood, find out if he was drugged. The scotch he swears he was drinking before he fell asleep is gone—the decanter, the tumblers, the original bottle in the bar. Vanished.

  So when the cops showed up, I made a gut decision to complicate the scene. I picked up the gun. Maybe it was the wrong call, but it means my client’s not in a cell right now.

  And all of that is none of Kendra’s business, because whatever is going on here is way over the pay grade of a DC cop. She couldn’t unravel this even if she believed me, and she wouldn’t, because she thinks I’m as crazy as her ex-husband.

  When she sighs and looks back at her computer, I reach for my pocket out of reflex. But everything—my keys, my phone, my wallet—is currently on a tray on her desk.

  She notices me eyeing my phone, because I didn’t hide it. She picks it up and twirls it slowly between her fingers.

  “Drop it and I’ll send the department a bill for a new one. Actually, I’ve been meaning to upgrade, so go the fuck ahead.”

  “So you do speak, after all.” She leans in, flashing just a bit of cleavage, which doesn’t work—even if I weren’t mad as hell at how this has gone down, she’s not Hailey. And Kendra’s not available, either. Not really.

  Her tits are nice, though, and so is the try, so I give her the slow, appraising look she wanted. Then I close my eyes and tip my head back against the chair.

  “Who have you been texting, Cole? Mind if I have a look?”

  “Get a warrant, Detective. It’s got a password on it for a reason.”

  Her laugh turns to a sigh as heavy footsteps sound behind me.

  “Oh great, the cavalry’s arrived.” She pushes back from the desk, shoving it against my arm in the process. I don’t react. “Who let this guy past the desk sergeant?”

  I recognize the hard-edged laugh as belonging to one of my business partners, Tag Browning. Kendra’s ex-husband. “Time to let him go, baby. You don’t have anything.”

  “Don’t call me baby. And I don’t have anything because you guys tampered with a crime scene. And since I have that, it’s not nothing after all.”

  “If that was the charge, you’d have arrested us all. Instead, one of your goons paraded Cole in front of the media—”

  “I think your partner likes the cameras just fine. This morning’s stunt will bring you more clients hungry to cover up murders—”

  “You should worry more about the wide-spread corruption and uniforms on the take than—”

  “Than a woman’s murder? You’ve lost all perspective—”

  I stand up, shoving my chair back hard enough it bounces off the desk behind me. “Enough!” I yell it, because seriously, these two need to find a fucking room. “Am I free to go?”

  “We want to question you…” Kendra purses her lips. She’s killing time.

  I brush past her and scoop up my belongings before I point to John Grant, our entirely respectable attorney standing a few feet behind Tag. “Contact my lawyer when you figure out what it is you want to ask me. I don’t suppose I can have my guns back?”

  “Ha. We’re going to be running those ballistics through all the systems before you ever get them back.” She sighs. “Cole…” Frustration rolls off her. She wants the Assistant U.S. Attorney on duty to charge me with something—anything. But there’s nothing that will stick because I haven’t done anything wrong.

  Today.

  She sighs. “We used to be on the same side. If you guys tell me what happened, I’ll probably understand.”

  Not a chance.

  I nod at Tag. “Let’s go.”

  Outside the station, we say a terse goodbye to John, who is, of course, unimpressed with my stunt. Once we’re alone in the car, Tag starts talking. “You need an alibi.”

  I have one. Not for the first time this morning, I worry about Hailey—what she’s seen, what she’s thinking. If she’s worrying about me. God, I don’t want that. But I’ve brought it on myself. You knew you were going to hurt her. Bravo for being a fucking fortune teller. I’m not going to use her again, hurt her again. Hailey won’t be how I get out of this, no matter what. “This’ll go away.”

  “Kendra’s out for blood.”

  “Not as much as the truth. We just need to find it for her.”

  Tag’s phone beeps, and he glances at the screen. “Wilson’s got something.”

  I nod, then pull out my
own phone. I can’t really say anything, but I need to send her something. When I type in the password, her photo is on the screen. Just hours ago, and everything has turned upside down since. Are you okay? I’m going to work now. I won’t be long. I’ll find you after that. I can’t tell her it’s all going to be okay. I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.

  We drive to the office in silence. It’s past breakfast time, I barely got two hours of sleep last night, and haven’t eaten yet. I insist on grabbing food in the lobby, and ignore Tag’s scowl. “Fuck you, I’m hungry.”

  “Fuck you, I’m interested in getting you out of this jam as soon as humanly possible.”

  “Your wife flashed me her tits just before you arrived.”

  For that, I get the door whipped into my shoulder as we arrive on the third floor. I probably deserve it.

  “I didn’t enjoy the view, if that’s your problem.”

  He doesn’t answer me.

  We find the other guys in the board room. Jason is pacing in front of the large screen on the far wall, every inch the patriotic warrior. Wilson’s sitting at the head of the conference table, scrolling through something on his laptop. He glances up as we enter, then presses a key, making the screen come to life.

  It’s exactly what I expect to see—a black and white video of me, leaving Hailey’s apartment. Time-stamped ten minutes before four in the morning.

  I don’t sit. “Turn that off. Where’s Fletcher?”

  Jason turns around slowly, facing me across the center of the table. “He’s at home with his family, and one of Grant’s first year associates standing guard.” He points over his shoulder where my face is frozen on the screen, a clear shot because yes, I looked at the camera. I always do. It’s an unconscious move now, making sure I’m seen when I want to be, and not seen when I don’t want to be…Fuck.