by T Gephart
“Well, yeah,” I answered with no hesitation. “It’s kind of a big deal that I don’t go to jail for something I didn’t do, so it would make me feel better knowing you have experience.”
Sure, I was probably offending the only person in a position to help me. But if he was going to use me to fill his pro-bono case quota then I wanted to know he at least had the chops to take care of this. Call me crazy, but I’d just lost the only man I’d ever loved and felt like absolute shit for hurting him, I’d rather not lose my freedom as well.
“Really?” He smirked not acting the least bit offended. “Something you didn’t do?” He baited me, clearly not believing my declaration of innocence.
“Yes, it’s a misunderstanding,” I snapped, getting slightly annoyed. “That’s all it is, I shouldn’t even be here.”
“Hmmm.” He stroked his chin slowly like he was giving my statement some serious thought. “Did you or did you not take Eric Larsson’s Audi A8 without permission?” He held up his hand to stop me from answering before he finished. “A car that contained your purse and whose keys you were in possession of.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t like that,” I answered impatiently, wishing this douchebag would stop believing what the cops had obviously told him and listen to what I had to say. “I was staying with Eric.”
I left out the part where I was sleeping with him too because I could only imagine what Roman Asshole Pierce might conclude about that.
“The same Eric Larsson who, when questioned, denied knowledge of you and maintained he wanted to press charges?” he challenged, knowing exactly what the answer was.
“Yes, but he was mad.” I tried to explain taking a breath before continuing. “I lied to him, he was hurt.”
The last thing I wanted to do was tell Roman Pierce anything to do with Eric. And yeah, I probably didn’t want to rehash what a dumbass I had been too. But I was through lying, and if telling the truth made me look like an idiot, I’d own that.
“Look, Tia.” Roman closed his laptop and sat up straighter in his chair, the smug grin making another appearance. “Maybe you should worry less about my ability in a courtroom and work on learning to cry on cue, okay?” He leaned over the table and whispered, “Judges eat that shit up.”
“What? No, fuck you,” I sneered across the table, “I’m not going to cry for an audience.”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes faking a yawn. “You got anything sexier to wear? Something,” he gestured to my chest, “to let us see the girls a little better.”
“Fuck. You,” I repeated, my butt lifting off the chair so fast it flipped and rattled noisily on the floor. I looked him dead in the eye, wanting to slap that grin right off his face. I also reminded myself not to touch him because an assault charge would not be a good thing right now, so to weigh that option carefully. “You are no longer my attorney.” I compromised, slapping the metal desk instead.
The door flew open, my noisy outburst attracting the attention of the officers who both ran in to investigate. Their eyes bounced between the two of us trying to assess which one of us was responsible for the tossed chair. Since Roman was still sitting on his, it was a dead giveaway who the guilty party was.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
“Anyone hurt?”
They talked over each other, looking at Roman for answers. The asshole remaining cool as a cucumber and looking somewhat amused.
“She’s a livewire, that’s for sure.” Roman stood, laughing as he put his laptop in the briefcase. “Well, that was fun.” The bastard gave me another wink.
Oh no, he did not just wink at me.
Big. Mistake.
Maybe jail wasn’t so bad.
My body flew forward, completely out of control as Dave and the other guy grabbed me just before I made contact. Their hands holding me back as I tried to lunge again.
“Tia?” His voice stopped me dead in my tracks as I struggled to turn around, even with a police officer on each arm I was able to see Eric standing in the open doorway like an apparition.
“Eric.” Just saying his name sucked the air out of my lungs. “You came?” I wasn’t sure if the last part had been audible, my chest burning as I tried to breathe.
“Of course I came. Are you okay?” His eyes widened as he saw me restrained. “Let her go.”
Hands remained on me as I visibly sagged, my body swaying heavily on my feet.
“I thought I told you to let her go,” he growled at the two men holding me, his tone and menacing look enough for them to drop their hands immediately.
I didn’t care it made no sense they were listening to him or that he was even here, I was just so relieved to see him that none of that stuff even mattered.
“She was going to kill Roman.” Dave jacked up his belt, offering an explanation as to why I was being manhandled.
“Um, this is highly irregular, sir, you aren’t supposed to be in here.” Officer One shot Dave a concerned look. “How did you get past security?”
“I think we’re beyond that,” Eric fired over his shoulder, his arms scanning mine to see if I was okay. “Did they hurt you?”
“You are such a dick,” Roman laughed, not at all concerned about the death stare he was getting. “She was handling herself just fine.”
“You.” Eric reached out and punched Roman in the arm. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Wait a minute!” I held up my hands, the situation going from bad to fucking insanity in three point two seconds.
What the hell just happened?
“You know him?” My eyes moved from Eric to Roman, the reality starting to unfold like slow motion.
“All my life.” Roman rubbed his arm. “I’m his brother.” Another cocky smile. “The better looking one.”
Boom.
It was like a bomb had gone off in my head. The similarities that were glaringly obvious now had been missed in my panic. Both of them tall, blue-eyed and handsome. The smiles were almost identical as well—Roman’s more cocky to Eric’s sexy.
“I told you this was a bad fucking idea.” Dave shook his head, and suddenly he looked familiar too. “Did I not fucking tell you this was bad?”
“What the hell just happened?” I looked around the room, so confused I wasn’t sure if it was a bad dream, I was hallucinating or I’d somehow slipped into a wormhole. “Someone needs to start talking. Now.”
“These morons are my brothers.” Eric waved to the three men who, now that I saw them all side by side, there was no mistaking were all from the same family. “Or at least they were, they might not be after I murder them.”
“Dude, come on.” The guy who I had previously known as Officer One erupted. “You can’t blame us. Roman was the one staring at her tits.”
“Jealousy is ugly on you, Nick,” Roman deadpanned, straightening his tie. “I was perfection.”
“You are all his brothers?” I asked what had already been confirmed, the extra information still not helping me understand. “I still don’t know what the hell is happening.”
I felt like I was slowly going insane and everyone else around me was just as crazy.
“Can you guys give us a minute?” Eric looked at his brothers, the three of them grunting as they filed out of the room.
“Eric, please.” I grabbed onto his arms. “I am so fucking confused right now.”
More than anything I needed information, being in the dark was freaking me the hell out.
“Tia, I am so sorry.” His lips kissed my forehead, his chest expanding as he let out a long, steady breath. “This whole thing was a set up, but it wasn’t supposed to get this far.”
“Well, obviously.” I tried to rein in my emotions. So many were swirling around in my body, I wasn’t sure which one should get attention first. “Unless it is a freak coincidence two of your brothers are cops and the other is a lawyer.”
“Actually Roman is a lawyer. He has a law degree and graduated from Yale.” Eric winced apologe
tically. So I was wrong about Harvard, but not about him smelling like Ivy League. I knew it.
“But Nick and Dave are actors. The station noise? It’s a soundtrack.” He watched for my reaction.
“What?” My head snapped up so fast I almost head butted him, my mouth opening and closing with no words actually coming out.
“Sit down, Tia, this might take a while.” He led me to the chair Roman had been sitting in, the one I hadn’t flipped.
Automatically I sat down as the back of my legs hit the chair, my butt dropping into the seat as Eric went and picked up the chair I’d tossed. He righted it, dragged it across from me and then sat down himself, his hand reaching across to mine, his thumb stroking across my knuckles as he held it.
“So, I knew about you being a writer for The Post.” His eyes glued to mine. “And not being an actress.”
“You . . . knew?” The words got caught in my throat as I took another breath. “How long?”
“Since the day after I met you.” He answered with no hesitation.
“Wait, the day after?” I clutched my chest, the answer not seeming to make sense. “So before you even came to New York?”
“Yes, the whole time.” His head dipped, forcing me to look into his eyes. “That night, after I left you at the hotel, I made a couple of calls.” He ran his hand through his hair roughly. “There was no Tia Monroe listed at The Roosevelt or on the invitation list for the premiere, so I investigated.”
“And?”
“And Valerie Vine didn’t attend which was strange considering her personal assistant personally accepted the invitation that day.”
“Oh. Shit,” I coughed out, comprehending how much he knew.
“Actually pretty creative.” He smiled, almost sort of proud. “You’re resourceful, I’ll give you that. Still not sure why you did it, but you should have probably used a different cell phone number or definitely a fake name if you didn’t want to be found.”
“I didn’t think anyone would look,” I answered honestly, who the hell was going to care about a scammed invite.
“Well, you were wrong about that.”
The way he looked at me made me swallow, heat simmering just below the surface but still contained. It made it hard to breathe; thinking was another challenge.
“So, wait. If you knew the whole time.” My brain had a moment of clarity, the cogs turning wildly as I started to make connections. “All that other stuff, trying to help me.”
The dinner with the agent, offers to go over scripts, the fucking Brooklyn Barn fiasco where I murdered the memory of Frank Sinatra. It had all been . . . a game?
“Honestly,” he laughed, “I thought you would just tell me the truth. I mean, Tia. Come on. There were a million chances. I kept waiting for you to just admit the truth.”
He was right, there had been. And each time I thought I would, I chickened out, burying it and believing that if I did, if he knew, it would all be over.
“I couldn’t,” I said softly, the other parts I wanted to say left unspoken.
Not able to explain how terrified I’d been, how much I’d cared so much that losing him was unfathomable. So much so that I would do anything to keep him, even though it was insane and irrational and mostly ridiculous.
“And when you didn’t,” he corrected, not understanding the reasons why. “It became sort of a game. See how far each one of us was willing to go. I’m an actor, Tia. It’s what I do for a living, but I shouldn’t have taken it this far. I should have told you before they took you away.”
“But you said . . . it wasn’t a game to you.”
I remembered the way he looked at me, the way he’d brushed the hair out of my face, and with more intensity than I’d ever seen, tell me that.
“You were not a game,” he pointed out.
Were. As in, past tense.
As in, I went through this all for nothing.
Worse than that. He knew, and instead of putting me out of my misery, he played with me like a cat with a mouse. Pushing to see how far he could go before I’d crack.
How much more did he know?
Did he know that it all started because of him, because I just wanted to see him just once?
Did he know about my ridiculous infatuation, my stupid crush?
Was I entertainment?
Embarrassment flooded me, the realization of how stupid I’d been. Ignorant to the fact that a man like him would never have taken a girl like me seriously. I was a cocktail party story, a giggle over dinner, the time he tricked a girl into thinking she was in love with him only to punk her in the end.
Well done.
Bravo.
He was way better at this game than I could ever be.
“I need to go.” I stood up, no longer wanting to be in the same room with him. “I’m assuming that you aren’t going to be pressing actual charges for the car?” The words were a struggle, but I managed to get them out without my voice shaking. No tears either. He wouldn’t get that.
“Tia, what are you talking about?” He looked confused, lifting out of his seat to reach for me. “Of course I’m not pressing charges. I couldn’t give a fuck about the car.”
“Okay.” I pulled away, widening the distance between us. Do not cry. Do not cry. “Well then, I’m free to go.”
“What?” His eyes searched mine looking for answers, confused. “You’re leaving?”
Did he think I was going to stick around? Laugh about how I’d been humiliated? About how probably everyone had known but me? I thought back to the phone call, the one I made when I honestly believed I had one last chance to talk to anyone. And out of all the anyones I could have called, I’d made the only choice I could. Him.
God, I was such an idiot.
My feet took a step toward the door, my heart beating so hard in my chest I was sure I was going to break my ribs apart. I had told him I loved him and not only had he not said it back, but he admitted he’d been acting this whole time.
“Let me go, Eric.” I pushed against his chest when he stood in my way. His large frame blocking the only exit I had.
“You’re just going to walk away now?” He stood in front of me, eyes burning into mine.
It was too much to take.
He was too much to take, and I knew if I stood there a second longer I would crumble, telling him again how much I loved him and give him my heart again to break into a million pieces.
Because that’s how pathetic I was.
Knowing I’d been a plaything and still not able to hate him.
“Yes, I think we’ve both taken it as far as we can go.” I forced myself to look at him, to not be the coward I knew I was. “Let’s call it even.”
It took everything I had, every ounce of reserve in the tank, for me to force a smile. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I did it. Not willing to show how much I’d been broken.
Did I even have a right to be mad? He’d been following my lead; it had been me who had started this mess. I had lied. I had been deceitful. I had pretended first. Could I really be angry at him for playing along? For doing what I had done, only more convincing?
“New York.” He grabbed my arm. Those two words hurting me more than any physical blow could. The last of my defenses were broken. I was broken.
“Goodbye, Eric.” I ripped my arm out of his hold and walked out the doorway.
I didn’t look back, my eyes glued to the hall I’d walked down earlier in handcuffs, believing my world was ending. Turns out, I had been right.
“Tia.” He called after me, my feet picking up the pace as I prayed the door in front of me was unlocked.
“Tia.” He was no longer standing still, his footsteps echoing off the floor as my fingers fumbled with the door handle and yanked it open.
Thank you, Lord Jesus, I said my silent prayer of thanks—I’d given up on the Viking gods, clearly they weren’t on my side—as I stepped out into the sunshine.
And ignoring the thundering sound of feet
behind me and my name echoing, I filled my lungs with as much air as I could.
And I ran.
I WASN’T A RUNNER.
Hell, to say I was even fit was probably a gross understatement. So when I decided running was a good idea, I knew it was going to take me no longer than ten seconds to regret that decision.
Firstly, because I didn’t have enough of a head start.
Eric was ginormous; it would take me three strides to every one of his. Not ideal.
Secondly, I had no fucking idea where I was or where I was going. We’d already established I had a questionable sense of direction and even poorer mapping skills. And in my rush to get away I’d left my phone—as well as everything else—behind. So I was Siri-less and shit out of luck.
And thirdly and most importantly, I. Was. Not. A. Runner.
Which is why the minute I was out the door, instead of running out into the street and possibly into lung failure, I changed tactics.
I darted around the side of the building, the thin gap between the brick and the fence line giving me just enough room to slip through unnoticed. While Eric screamed my name, opening the door and searching the street in front of him, I crouched down, flattening myself behind two trashcans until I saw him continuing to run into the distance.
It would take him five minutes at most before he would realize there was no way I could have put that much distance between us and double back. I had to make those five minutes count. Oh, and I still had no idea where I was and where I was going.
Moving as quietly as I could—I had no idea if the Larsson posse was somewhere close ready to ambush me—I continued to the front of the building. Which to my surprise actually was a police station, just obviously one that had been decommissioned and was being used as a film set. Big white flyers notified the public of filming times and reminded them not to trespass, but thankfully no one else was around.
But my thanks was short lived when I’d made it just a few feet up the road and a familiar black SUV pulled up.
Fuck.
It was Ryan.
“New York?” He rolled to a stop in front of me. “Is that you?”
“Please go.” I kept my head down and continued walking, hoping we weren’t attracting any further attention. “And just give me a few extra minutes before you tell him, okay?”
