"We can't go to the cops,” I said.
Even if I wasn’t a killer, like hell would I just drag myself over to a police station. Police were useful, some of the time. Then there were times when all they did was get in the way; times when they were the problem. I'd gone through that personally, so I didn't have much affection for them to begin with.
"Why not?"
I shot her a disbelieving look because she was just being stupid now.
"They can't help us," I told her, stating what should have been obvious. "The police are useless against a guy as insulated as my boss. Hell, he's been on their radar for a while. If it was that simple, they would have arrested him long before his reputation became quite so bloody."
"But someone could still help—," she began.
"Not to mention," I spoke over her, raising my voice above hers so she would listen, "the incredible depth of corruption among your peers. As I just said, they could have made an arrest ages ago. Can you think of any reason why it took this long, and all you did was accidentally catch Jimmy in a snit? No matter how good, Eric Randolph can't do the stuff he does, without someone in a position of authority knowing at least some of it. Ever heard of a cover up? Cause I have seen plenty."
I'd also created plenty myself.
I tried to make my voice as convincing as possible, so she could understand. Her cop mind wasn’t going to help her, not in a situation like this. Hell, she should have gotten some hate, even from work, after the arrest of such a wealthy man with a father so dangerous. No matter what rose colored glasses she was using to watch the world, she couldn’t be quite this naïve.
Am I forgetting something?
I frowned as it occurred to me I still hadn't asked her name yet.
"What's your name?" I asked, abruptly.
"Uh," was what she answered with.
I glanced at her. It was obvious I caught her by surprise. I arched an eyebrow her way.
"It's… Lara. Foley, but you knew that."
"I might have heard of it. You have a beautiful name, Officer Foley."
I saw in my periphery, her looking away from me, her hair falling to hide her face from my view, but not before I caught her darkening skin. Was she blushing? I wished we had better lighting so I could see. My hand, without my permission, raised away from the wheel and reached for her. I would just touch her hair, long enough to brush it back so I could see her face.
But I couldn’t. The touching earlier had been more than enough. I curled my fingers into my palm, pulling my hand back and away. I had to put some mental distance between us before I did something stupid.
"You made yourself famous, you know. When you took Jimmy like you did."
I saw in the corner of her eye her flinch a little. "I didn’t even know who he was, I just thought some low-level street crook."
I snorted. Yeah, Jimmy was that incompetent. Sad there wasn’t an academy for criminals, especially those meant to inherit the family business. He might have flunked out; or gotten killed before he graduated. And I would have been free of the headache for years.
"If… if I hadn't arrested him, maybe…"
Maybe none of this would be happening.
I could tell she was thinking about her partner. Her eyes looked haunted, even though I couldn’t see them all that clearly.
I was stuck with the sudden need to comfort her. It was a ridiculous need—me, a cold-blooded killer, offering comfort—but I wanted to.
I didn’t know how to, though. Still, without my permission, my hand moved from the wheel and reached for her. I could feel her surprised reaction, but she didn’t pull away as I slowly molded my hand to the shape of her cheek, the tips of my fingers slipping into her hair. I felt a slight pressure on my hand, and I shot a quick, startled glance at her. It looked like she was… leaning her cheek into my hand, nuzzling it a bit.
Her skin was so soft against my rough palm and warm. Had I ever been this close to another human body? I'd touched people before, to kill and to fuck, but all of it had been clinical. If I could accomplish either without touching, where was the need to? But I liked touching her. In fact, I wanted to touch her more.
I could feel my body warm up, and I wanted to curse myself. The last thing I needed to be thinking about just then was sex. Or whatever soft equivalent was trying to worm its way into my head.
I could feel my face harden, but I pulled my hand away from her gently. The car was silent for a while, only long enough for my curiosity to get the better of me.
"How old are you?" I asked her.
I didn’t need to know the answer, but I needed something to distract the both of us. I could have guessed somewhere mid-twenties. If I needed to know the precise answers, I could have found a way.
"How old are you?" was her answer.
I shot her a look. "You won't tell me your age?"
"Won't you tell me yours?"
I smirked, but I didn’t turn to meet her eyes. So, we were playing games, now?
"What would you say if I told you I was actually forty." I wasn’t, but I was curious about her answer.
When she didn’t respond right away, I shot her a sideways glance.
"If you get to be forty, does that mean I get to be sixteen?"
I snorted. "Real age, please, Miss Foley. I promise to give you mine."
She hesitated, suspicious, long enough that I sighed and asked something else.
"If you won't tell me your age, then…" I thought about the most inconsequential thing. "Tell me what your favorite color is."
"That's a bit of a cliché."
"Not so. You'll have to tell me why."
There was silence, then she chuckled. The sound was low, but it was definitely a laugh. And we spent the rest of the drive babbling about nonsense as I tried to make her laugh a bit more, keep her distracted long enough so she wouldn’t think. I wouldn’t know what to do with a hysterical female.
I didn’t have any specific plan except getting away. But I knew the road we were on, and I mapped, in my head, where it led. We didn’t have to go so far as to leave the city, at least, not yet. At some point, I was going to have to think about what to do with her.
I drove us out to some no-tell motel, several miles away from where Jacque nearly caught us. The drive took at least a couple of hours. There was a parking lot across the street from it, dark, with plenty of run down and broken cars just lying there, because no one had to pay for the spot. I made sure the car was well hidden among them.
It was an ostentatious car, and I would have to do something about it. If we could get a different car…
But I could deal with that later. We both needed some well-deserved rest.
"Clay."
"Hmm?" she hummed distractedly, looking back at me.
"My name. It's Clay. Newbury."
Before she could say anything, I stepped out of the car and walked toward the motel. She'd follow me at her own pace if she felt like it.
Dirty Cop
Lara
I lay on my side, facing the wall, but I couldn't sleep.
His name was Clay.
I said it in my head a couple of times, even mouthed out the name. It didn’t strike me as the name of a killer. Then again, he was just a human being; of course, he would have a name, and it was allowed to be normal. I wondered if he had a surname if he would give it to me if I asked.
After a while, I sighed out loud. I didn’t think I was going to fall asleep, I just didn’t feel like it. I froze and listened carefully for my roommate. If the room wasn’t so quiet, I would have thought I was alone, but his breathing was just barely audible. Slowly, I sat up, glancing over my shoulder at him, just to be sure he was there and I wasn’t hearing things.
The room was dark, but I could see his outline in the other bed across the room. Carefully, making a minimal amount of sound, I slipped off the bed and reached for my boots. I left them on the bed, walking closer to the other bed for a closer look, making sure he was asleep. B
ut I could hear his near silent breathing easier as I got closer.
I hesitated to go any nearer, worried my presence would somehow alert him.
I made the decision to sneak out. I hadn't changed much when we made it here, but I did take off my jacket, shirt, and bulletproof vest so I could be a little more comfortable. Not that there was anything remotely comfy about sleeping in leather pants, but I had thought it wise to leave them on.
I reached for my shirt and jacket, pulling them on over my undershirt as quietly as possible. I left the vest off, I would have made too much noise trying to put it on anyway, and I didn’t want to wake Clay. I let myself out of the room, closing the door soundlessly behind me, and pulled on my boots.
A weak light bulb, the same one that had led us here, was still on, thankfully, and I used it to make my way off the lot.
I crossed the street to the parking lot where we'd left the car earlier. It looked dark and creepy, but I didn't care. I followed, from memory, to where the car was parked. Only… I cursed as I stopped right beside the driver's door. I tried to pull it open anyway, but I couldn't. Whatever he must have done to the door earlier, it hadn't broken it. And besides, what would I do if I could get inside when I didn’t have the keys? I didn’t know more about hotwiring vehicles than what I saw in the movies.
I moved hurriedly away from the cars, the 'creepy' suddenly overwhelming as I saw the cracks in my plan. I stopped at the road and looked around. I saw some faint light up ahead. I started to walk slowly in that direction.
Out of habit, I slid my hands into my jacket pockets, only to freeze. I pulled my right hand out of my pocket and stared at the device I held in disbelief. How could I have forgotten that I had my phone on me? Slowly, I pressed the button that would light the screen—if it was still working. It was hard to believe, after the shit I'd gone through in the last several hours, that my phone could survive in my pocket unscathed.
But the screen came on. It was even fully charged, for once. I felt almost giddy for a moment, but it was wiped away almost immediately, determination taking over.
New plan. My way, this time.
I had let myself get dragged around by Clay. It was fine—he had saved me after all—but he was not responsible for me, and I was not a child that needed looking after in the first place. I could make decisions just fine by myself.
Besides, I reminded myself. Not so long ago, he was in cahoots with the man that killed Gabe.
I could feel my chest constrict as thoughts of my partner resurfaced in my mind. I'd almost forgotten all about it, or rather let my mind push it aside so I could hold some mental stability in the hell I suddenly found myself.
I wanted to cry. Gabe had been a good guy, and an awesome partner. He deserved a lot more than he got, and all because of me. He also deserved to be mourned.
But I didn’t have the leisure time for that, just yet. I wiped harshly at the few tears that broke past my tightly leashed control. I had to get this shit over with. I just needed to talk to the right person, and in no time at all, everything would be fine, or on its way. Then I could work on putting the man responsible for his death behind bars.
My decision made, I stored the despairing thoughts in a small compartment of my mind, where I would pick them up later.
My hand hesitated on my phone as Clay's words ran through my head.
I acknowledged that there was corruption amongst the police—hell, it was everywhere, it would be strange that it didn’t exist in the police force; that would lead more toward it being very well hidden. We even had lessons on corruption at the academy, on its influences and consequences, as something of an extracurricular class.
But just because it existed, didn’t mean that every cop was dirty. There were genuinely good cops, plenty of them, and Gabe was only one example I'd gotten to meet and know in my few months on the job. I was sure, had I lasted longer, I would have found plenty more. If I was going to have that chance, I had to do something about this situation before it got too out of hand.
But if there was someone I trusted, it was my mentor, Luke Walsh.
He was the whole reason I wanted to become a cop. Also, the closest thing I had to family, at the moment, even though I didn’t get to see him much. If there was someone I could trust to help me, it would be him.
My moment of hesitation passed, I unlocked the home screen, and searched for his number in my phone book. I was running a risk, in case the police had been notified and I was being pursued as a suspect. If they were tracking my calls, they could find me easily. I had a moment to be grateful I was using an older model that didn’t have GPS wired into it. I wondered if I could be found through it anyway.
I would have to keep the conversation short.
As the call dialed, I paced along the sidewalk, five sharp steps, an about-face, five more steps, and repeat. When he finally picked up, I froze, felt my heart skip in my chest in anxiety.
"Lara?"
I breathed in relief at the sound of his voice. It had been a while since we last spoke, and I was going to change that when I went back.
"Luke." I was sure the relief in my voice was obvious. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear you. Listen, I've gotten myself into a little bit of trouble."
"A little?" he said in disbelief. "Lara, what you've gotten yourself into is more than just a 'little bit' of trouble."
I knew that already. "I just need the chance to explain, you will understand everything once you know the whole story. Look, I can't talk over the phone, can you meet me somewhere?"
I held my breath, waiting for him to say no and cut off the call. What he said instead made me breathe easier.
"Where?"
I'd mostly tracked where we were headed, so I knew the general direction. But where to meet him? It couldn’t be at the motel. Not only was Clay there, I didn’t want Luke to know much about him. I hadn't even thought what I would say about him if asked.
I ignored that just then, remembering the light I saw ahead. I was already a few yards from the motel, so if I walked closer to that light, would he assume I was coming from that direction, and not the motel?
In the few seconds, all of that had gone through my mind, I'd given him the general address of where I was. I'd just make sure I was on the side of the road, where he would see me clearly as he drove up.
"Thank you so much for agreeing to this. I'll be waiting for you."
I cut off the call without waiting for him to reply. Hopefully, the call hadn't taken too long.
I paced around a little, looking up and around every now and then. I was alone, and no car passed by this road. I was sure we were still within the city limits, just maybe at the edge. I checked the time on my phone, only to see I'd spent two minutes worrying myself sick.
He's not superman and his car won't fly. It will be at least half an hour before he gets here. Patience.
I didn’t want to wait for half an hour. And if the area he was in had traffic, it might be longer. I sighed to myself, thought about sitting myself down for a long wait. Instead, I shoved my hands, and my phone, in my jacket pockets, and walked toward the small light in the distance. As I walked closer I realized it was a convenience store. It wasn’t open, though, I didn’t think. The light seemed to only be coming from outside the building. It wasn’t so big a light, or very bright, but it was pretty clear in the darkness. There wasn’t much else that I could see around besides flat ground for several yards.
I hesitated a little to go near there. The inside looked dark, but there could still be someone in there, and I didn’t want an audience for the conversation I was going to have with Luke. I stopped still a bit of a distance away, but I was quite far from the motel. Hopefully, he wouldn’t suspect. There wasn’t a sign on it, so I hadn't even known what it was until Clay mentioned it.
I hoped he wouldn’t wake up to find me gone. I felt a little ashamed, going behind his back after he'd helped me for no reason, but I'd already made the call and Luke was, hopefully
, on his way. If I could get Luke to believe me, I could get out of Clay's hair. But I'd have to go say goodbye and thank him first.
I heard the familiar sound of an approaching vehicle, and it made me look up. The car coming up the road was dark, nearly invisible in the night. I stepped back from the sidewalk, stepping on dirt, and waited. The car slowed as it neared me, then slid onto the sidewalk and stopped right in front of me. When the driver side door opened, Luke Walsh stepped out of the car.
I was so relieved to see him, I felt like I could run up to him and hug him. But it was hardly the situation for something like that. He didn’t even give me time to talk, just jumped right into the inquisition.
"Lara? Are you all right?" he asked, sounding concerned before his tone turned angry. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been; we've all been?"
"I'm sorry Luke. I didn’t have a handle on the situation. It wasn’t meant to go so out of hand."
"Out of hand?" he said, astonished. "That is a fucking understatement. We have cops looking for you everywhere, Lara. Where the hell have you been? What have you been up to." I just stood, feeling ashamed as he questioned me, not answering. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "Why didn’t you call your precinct?"
I didn’t want to tell him I forgot I even had my phone with me in all the confusion. When I realized, it was obvious making the call after all those hours gone, yeah, it would not have gone well.
"That doesn’t matter right now. There's a guy after me, Luke, I need your help."
"You're gonna need more help than I can give you, Lara. I heard you went after Eric Randolph. After the shit with his son, you should have known to keep your head down." He frowned at me. "Besides, you're not alone, are you."
He said it like a statement, not a question. It made me think he knew about Clay Newbury. Did the police already think I was with him? If he was a criminal and they had him on record, it wouldn’t look good for me at all. All I had was my word, and I wasn’t so naïve as to think just because I was telling the truth, it would get me off the hook.
His Betrayal: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Omerta Series Book 5) Page 5
