Filthy Dirty Secrets: Filthy Dirty Alpha Book 2

by Morgan, Grace

  “I always take my liquor bitter,” a wry voice says. I turn and see Carter sitting a few stools over. I can’t believe I missed him. Carter is Burke’s polar opposite with his mussed good looks and light humor. Where Burke broods, Carter laughs. Things would have been much easier if I’d just fallen for Carter instead of Burke, but Carter doesn’t compel me the same way Burke does. Burke is intense, overwhelming. Dangerous. I shouldn’t like that about him.

  I move over to sit next to Carter. I’ve talked to him a bit since moving to Second Circle, and I’ve come to see him as something of a friend.

  “Here I thought you would’ve preferred the sweet drinks,” I tease him.

  His smile is sardonic. “I find sweet is only a trait that works well when possessed by a woman. On everything else it’s cloying.”

  “I’m not sweet.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

  “No. You’re not.”

  I frown. He was supposed to disagree with me, but now that I think about it, he’s right. Sweet isn’t a very accurate term for me. Hard headed maybe, or bullishly stubborn. Sexy, I hope. And Burke had given me a taste of submission. I shiver.

  “What are you here for?” I ask him.

  “Woman trouble,” Carter says.

  “Same,” I say, “But I think mine is a little different from yours.”

  “No luck with Hope?”

  I shake my head. The bartender sets a shot in front of me. I don’t try to determine what it is before I down it. Tequila. I shudder as it begins burns a path down my insides.

  “I thought I had a lead, but it turned out to be nothing. What’s your problem?”

  “What isn’t my problem? I was talking to this redhead, smoking hot, right? And she turns me down flat. Says I’m not serious enough. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I pat his arm. “You’re plenty serious. You just come off lighthearted because you’re funny.”

  “Yeah.” Carter snorts, and it sounds so much like Burke that I giggle. “Maybe I should work on my brooding face. Get Burke to give me some pointers.”

  “Burke isn’t that broody. He’s just intense.”

  “That’s another word for broody.”

  “If you say so.” Carter finishes his beer and calls for another.

  I tilt the shot glass and catch sight of my reflection in it. I look tired. I smooth my fingers over the bags underneath my eyes and wonder if Burke notices them. “Has Burke ever had a serious relationship?” I ask, curious about his background.

  “Burke’s not really a ten-women-a-night kind of guy. He pretty much finds one he likes and sticks with her for a while. But I don’t think that’s what you mean. And in response to the question you actually asked, no. He’s never had something resembling a girlfriend.”

  The bartender brings Carter another beer and sets a full shot in front of me. Carter clicks his beer bottle against my shot glass. “Cheers.”

  I pick up the shot and down it. The second one doesn’t burn as much, and I can feel the liquor beginning to kick in, muddying my senses and giving me a sense of disconnect from my body. I remember how I felt when I found out about Hope and Burke. Like I was floating away because I couldn’t deal with what the world had handed me.

  “Do you think I’ll find Hope?” I ask.

  “No one’s going to find Hope,” Carter’s tone is harsh with defensiveness. He finishes his beer in one long chug.

  I bite my lip as I look at him. He’s drunk. He hides it better than most, but his feet keep slipping against the rung of the stool as if he’s having trouble holding himself up. The bartender refills my shot glass again, and I decide what the hell, and lift it to my lips and suck it down. I return it to the bar, never taking my eyes off Carter.

  “You almost sound like you’re the one hiding her,” I joke.

  Carter fumbles the beer bottle as he lifts it to his lips, losing his grip. It thuds against the edge of the bar before tumbling off and hitting the floor, shattering. The bartender swears something in German.

  “Carter?”

  His eyes are a fraction too wide as he looks over at me. Holy shit. Holy shit.

  I grab his shoulder. “What did you do to Hope?”

  “Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. And keep your voice down when you say shit like that.” He swats at my hand like a fly but he’s too drunk to push me away.

  I rise from my stool, stepping carefully to avoid the glass on the floor, then yank Carter off his stool by the front of his shirt.

  “What do you know?” My face is so close to his I can taste the beer on his breath.

  His eyes dart around the room. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters.

  He knows. He fucking knows—and he’s been hiding it all along.

  Anger burns through me hotter than the tequila. I reel back and my palm cracks against his cheek.

  “Tell me now,” I order. My heart is hammering, afraid of what he might admit.

  Is Carter responsible for Hope’s disappearance? He seems so … nice. But my instincts have been off lately. Dead end after dead end, followed by endless cover ups. Was Carter was pulling the strings all along? Who better to cover up a murder than the co-owner of the club she disappeared from?

  This is going to devastate Burke. He has no idea what his best friend has done. I can barely breathe through the panic.

  “It’s not what you think,” Carter says. He makes a grab for me, and I dart back, letting him go. He staggers and catches himself on a stool. His face is pale, but his eyes are determined.

  Carter knows what happened to Hope, and he knows I know. What will he do to keep me quiet? Would he get rid of me too? No, there’s no way Carter would hurt me. I don’t believe it. But that’s the rational side of my brain. The tequila-soaked side says that people are crazy, and anything could have happened.

  He wraps a strong arm around my waist, and his move startles me. I open my mouth to scream, but Carter slaps his hand over it. “Shh … shh … not here.” I struggle against his hold, but even drunk, he’s still so much stronger than me.

  “Everything okay, Carter?” the bartender asks, watching us carefully.

  “Peachy,” Carter says. “Lola and I are headed to the Jasmine Room since she’s feeling so spunky.”

  Carter hauls my body across the lounge floor. I don’t like being manhandled—not by anyone but Burke, anyway—and my first instinct is to sink my teeth into the hand covering my mouth. But he’s either too drunk to notice or has excellent self-control. We stop at the elevator, and I manage to land a kick. He drops his hand from my mouth.

  “You can’t just drag me off somewhere without asking!”

  “Would you stop squirming?” Carter hisses in my ear. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to talk to you. In private.”

  The tequila is hitting me hard, and my thoughts are jumbled with confused adrenaline. I have no idea if Carter’s telling the truth or not. I mean, it’s Carter. How could Carter do anything bad?

  But I haven’t even known him for a month yet. People have secrets. I thought I knew Burke, and it turned out he was keeping an entire secret past relationship from me. I don’t know what to believe. Why can’t pivotal moments happen when I’m sober and capable of thinking clearly?

  Carter leads me into the elevator and hits the call button for his apartment. There are few places in Second Circle that don’t have cameras, but Carter’s and Burke’s apartments are two of them. He’d told the bartender we were going to the Jasmine room … another lie.

  He could make me disappear just like he did Hope, but … he’d never get away with it. There were cameras and witnesses that saw our struggle in the lounge, and there will definitely be a record of him taking me up to his apartment. Hardly a sneaky way to get rid of someone.

  By the time we step into Carter’s apartment, I’ve calmed my breathing, and he’s let go of me. I stand cautiously a few feet away from him with my arms crossed as he weaves a drunken line across the floor of his living room. He paces just l
ike Burke does. It would be endearing if I could stop running through all of the possibilities about what he could have done to Hope.

  “We’re alone, now talk. What happened to Hope? What did you do?” My voice is stern, and calm, thankfully. I’m trying hard to convey a sense of power.

  Carter presses his knuckles against his forehead. “It’s complicated. Fuck, I wish I wasn’t so drunk right now.”

  “Just tell me, Carter. Now.” I put on a bravado I don’t feel. I don’t even know if I’m in reporter mode, or just pissed off and angry. For the first time, I’m close to finding out what happened to Hope. My need to know thrums through my body so violently I feel like I’m vibrating with it.

  “Hope didn’t disappear. She escaped.”

  I shake my head as if that might arrange the words into an order that makes sense. “I don’t understand. Hope disappeared. The last time she was seen was leaving Second Circle. I saw the video.”

  He shoves his hands into his hair and tugs in into messy spikes. “I know you saw the video. It was a set up. I helped her. Look, it’s complicated…”

  “How and why, and…” I blow out a frustrated breath. Damn you, tequila.

  “She escaped,” he says again, like that miraculously clears everything up.

  “To where?”

  His face lights up like he’s just thought of the best idea ever. “I can do better than tell you. I can show you. Tomorrow. After I sleep off this fucking alcohol. Goddamn Patron.”

  I stay rooted in place. It still doesn’t make any sense. What could he possibly show me that will explain what happened to Hope? Is this all just an elaborate ruse to lure me away and make sure I disappear too?

  “Why should I trust you?”

  He throws his hands up. “Because I’m asking you to, okay? Because I’ve been playing nanny for your and Burke’s shit—”

  “You’ve been what?”

  Carter smacks his palm against his face. “Fuuuuck.” He stumbles a few steps toward his couch and drops onto the cushion.

  “Has Burke talked to you about me?” I feel like an idiot. I shouldn’t care about my relationship with Burke when a woman’s life is on the line. But, I still do. Of course I do.

  “Forget I said anything,” Carter says. “Can we just pretend I never mentioned it?”

  “No, we can’t pretend. What did Burke say about me?” I’m barely able to remember to keep my distance from Carter, I want to shake the words out of him so badly. Maybe having him drunk is a really good thing. I sense he can’t keep a secret to save his life right now.

  “He said he wants you to stay. Except he doesn’t. Fuck. I need sleep.”

  I sway on my feet. Burke wants me to stay. Sort of. Maybe. When I look back at Carter, he’s passed out on the couch. I won’t be wringing any more answers from him tonight. But he said he would show me the truth about Hope tomorrow. And I will damn well hold him too it, no matter how risky.

  Chapter Six

  Burke

  Lola reeks of tequila when she walks into my apartment. I look up from my laptop where I’ve just been going over the PI report for the twentieth futile time and see her catch herself against the doorframe.

  “When did the floors in here get so uneven?” she asks.

  I have no idea what brought this on, but my best guess is her frustration about not being able to find Hope. Either way, I doubt I’ll get a straight answer while she’s drunk. I can hold off on the interrogation until she’s sober. And deliver a seemingly well-deserved lesson…

  “I think it’s time to put you to bed, little girl.” I slide my laptop onto the coffee table and cross the room in time to catch Lola as she trips. She grips my arms with uncoordinated hands, and I pull her warm body against me. Her head hits my chest and she hums a small noise of contentment.

  “I drank tequila.”

  “I figured that one out myself.” I slide an arm under her knees, lift her up, and carry her to the bedroom. She giggles as her feet leave the floor.

  “I talked to Carter.”

  My heart misses a beat. He wouldn’t tell her what I said. If there’s one thing I can trust Carter to do, it’s keep a secret. “About how much tequila you drank?” I ask lightly.

  “About Hope. And you,” she says, missing my question about the tequila.

  “What does Carter know about Hope?” I don’t remember Carter ever spending much time with her. It’s not that I told him she was off limits, but he never seemed interested in her. Maybe if I distract Lola from the second part of the statement, she’ll forget by the time she wakes up with a hangover tomorrow.

  “He said it’s his fault—what happened to Hope. He said he’d show me tomorrow.”

  I freeze a step away from the bedroom. Carter had something to do with Hope’s disappearance? That can’t be right. She must have misunderstood. I’ve known Carter for years. I won’t pretend he doesn’t have his dark moods, but there’s nothing evil in him.

  Or do I not know him as well as I think I do?

  “And he said—” Lola presses her hand awkwardly against my face, squishing my nose and lips. “He said that you want me to stay.”

  He told her. The son-of-a-bitch told her. He had no fucking right.

  “You’re drunk, sweetheart,” I say carefully. There’s a chance she won’t remember any of this tomorrow, but I have to admit, she doesn’t look that far gone. Her eyes are still clear and focused on my face.

  “I know what he said,” she says defensively.

  I carry her into the bedroom and set her down on the bed. She sprawls across it and lets out a sigh.

  I grapple for a solution. I’ve never been as much at a loss as I am right now. My best friend might be hiding something huge from me, and the woman of my dreams just found out she’s the woman of my dreams, and both of them are so drunk I won’t be able to get a word of sense out of them anyway. Fucking hell.

  I back away from the bed and rake a hand through my hair. “Lola?”

  “Mmm?” Her eyelids have already drifted shut. Her hair is tangled around her head and she squeezes a pillow to her chest.

  A smile tugs up the corner of my mouth. How is it that I can feel so much for this woman I haven’t even known for a month yet? “Do you want me to want you to stay?”

  I don’t know if she hears me and can’t sort out the confusing question or doesn’t hear me at all, but the only reply I’m greeted with is a quiet snore. I grab a blanket off the foot of the bed and drape it over her.

  If I’m having trouble processing what just happened, I can’t imagine how Lola must feel right now. She’s finally got a lead on what happened to Hope. She must be terrified. Anything could be waiting for her at the end of that rabbit hole.

  And then there’s us. Our relationship has an expiration date, but it’s one either of us could reverse if we’re willing to make the first move. But if I keep Lola, I’m depriving her of everything she deserves to have.

  What if she wants to stay? If it’s her decision and not one I’m making for her? I don’t know what the right answer is here. I leave her to sleep off the tequila and go back to the living room to spend the night going over and over what happens next.

  Chapter Seven

  Lola

  My mouth tastes like cotton wool when I wake up. I cringe and grab the glass of water Burke helpfully left on the nightstand. The night before comes back slowly. Driving the Porsche out to that house. The dead end. The disappointment. Carter. Carter.

  When I left his apartment, I went straight to Burke. Everything gets a little fuzzy after that. Did I tell Burke anything I shouldn’t have? I blink the sleep from my eye and groggily start searching for my cell phone.

  My head is pounding, but I manage to find it next to my shoes on the floor. I dial Carter and flinch every time it rings.

  “Hullo?” he answers woodenly. Hah, he’s more hung over than I am.

  “Carter? Do you remember last night?”

  He grunts. “Yeah. I remember.�
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  I flop back on the bed. At least I don’t need to explain to him what he’s supposed to be showing me today. Then again, if he’s responsible for something awful happening to Hope, it probably would have been better if he’d forgotten telling me about it.

  “I’m a little hung over,” I say.

  “So am I.”

  I smile and push myself up to my elbows so I can drink more water until the pounding in my head tappers off. “You’re going to show me what happened to her.”

  “Yeah. Be down in the lounge in twenty minutes. And not a word to Burke. He can’t come. It’s you alone, or nothing.”

  “Says the possible ax murderer.” Shit, did I say that out loud?

  Carter hangs up. I finish the rest of the water than climb out of bed.

  “Lola? You awake?” Burke calls.

  “Yeah, just about to climb into the shower.” I shimmy out of last night’s clothes and head for the bathroom.

  Burke appears in doorway to the bedroom. “I need to talk to you.”

  “In a little bit.” I dodge him and slip into the bathroom. I close the door then throw the lock. Normally I would enjoy a shower with Burke, but today I’m on a mission. I need to get to Carter and escape. Then solve the biggest mystery, save my job, and hopefully my relationship with Burke. Shit, first I’m going to need coffee.

  I shower and put on a fresh set of clothes. The pounding in my head subsides and I’m feeling more human when I open the door and find Burke sitting on the bed with his arms crossed, waiting for me.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says again.

  “We’ll talk later. I’m meeting Carter for breakfast.” I could kick myself for the obvious lie. Carter doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast. I doubt he’s even aware that a meal exists before lunch.

  “No, you’re not.”

  I try to get past Burke again, but he grabs my arm. “We need to talk about last night.”

  My head spins. I have no idea what I said to him last night. What happened after I got back to the apartment is still a fog. “Did I… say something to you last night?”