But how would Luke know anyway, unless Eric did report us to the police? But he'd have to admit to having connected with a criminal himself. A lot of what he did wasn’t exactly a secret, but he got by because he was good at denying everything, and there was never evidence to the contrary. So, I comforted myself, knowing there was no way Luke knew.
But he was still asking me about Clay.
"Tell me a little about the guy you're with. The reports mentioned you ran off with someone, a man. Is he still with you?"
Fuck. What was I going to tell him about Clay? I hadn't thought about it at all, worrying about Luke deciding it was too high risk and not coming. But I couldn’t just give him away after he helped me; after he got us to a doctor and had me looked at before getting his own wound treated, even though his was obviously more serious.
So instead, I tried diverting Luke's attention.
"Don’t worry about that guy. I'm not sure who he is really, he was just there at the club. He helped me out when everything went down. But Luke, listen, I wanted to explain to you what happened at that club. I'm sure someone must have called the police after the gunshots started raining, but I don’t know what story they got. Something happened that I want you to hear from me, first—"
"Lara," he cut me off, voice firm, eyes unreadable. "Tell me about the guy you left the club with."
That's the second time he's asked you about Clay. There was more important stuff I had to tell him, and that was all he cared about. I didn’t like it.
I felt a shiver of apprehension crawl through my body, but I mentally shook it off. Nothing was wrong, he was probably just worried.
I tried the diversion tactic again.
"I just told you," I said, making my voice impatient. "He's not important. The maniac coming after my ass is. He's already shot two people; I want to stop him before he hurts more."
Luke stood there, just staring at me. I felt frustration rising, wondering if he was even hearing me. Did he believe me, or did he think I was going crazy? Whatever report he'd gotten couldn’t possibly have shed me in a positive light, what with my partner dead and my having left the scene with some strange man.
I was thinking about where to start with it all, just tell him the whole story and wait for him to react. If we both just stood there, staring at each other, a killer could be gaining on me, on us with Clay still in the equation. The psycho needed to be put behind bars.
But then Luke was going for his gun, reaching for where he usually had it, on a shoulder holster on the left side of his jacket. I felt my eyes widen in surprise, but before he could even pull it out, I heard a shot, and for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I saw someone I gave a damn about getting shot down.
Gaining Her Trust
Clay
I saw her lunge for the car, throwing herself behind the door, then turn to look through the window. Her image wasn't clear, but I thought I saw her eyes open wider. Then she ducked out of my sight. She must have seen the gun in my hand.
Fuck.
Why had she even left the motel, to begin with? It was safer there. Again, I found myself wondering if the woman was just too brave, or too stupid. We might have gotten away from Eric, and twice from Jacque, but did she honestly think that meant we were in the clear? If he and his men could be so easily defeated—and the old bastard would look at it as defeat—his reputation wouldn’t be quite so notorious.
How the hell was this woman not seeing what was in front of her?
I growled quietly under my breath as I stepped onto the road to cross over. I shouldn’t have gotten myself involved, to begin with. I didn’t start the fight with Eric for her sake, I just got tired of his shit, but why the hell didn’t I just leave her there? She could have let herself out in the confusion.
So, why didn’t you?
Whatever. What was done was done; I didn’t want to think too much about it and I was stuck with her anyway. We both had targets on our backs, so sticking together was just smart thinking. That was the only reason why I was doing this.
Right.
But what was I going to do now, with her cowering from me? Whatever had been between us in the car as we drove just a few hours ago was now gone. I wanted to explain, but I wasn’t going to shout it out at her. Somehow, I'd have to get her to listen to me.
But then, I saw her duck back around the hood, and she brought up a shotgun with her. It must have come from inside the car.
I stopped, barely had time to dive out of the way before she was firing the shot. I rolled on the ground and landed in a crouch.
I thought it would have gone wide anyway, she was scared and I didn’t think she was taking enough time to aim with that thing. Had she ever even shot one before? Because shotguns were a lot different from police issue firearms; they were longer, heavier, and had more recoil. If she'd never used one before, aiming properly was going to be difficult. Surely she'd guess that, after that first wide shot.
But then I saw her rising with the shotgun again.
"Lara!"
She intended to take another shot. I didn’t have any cover where I was, there was nothing on my side of the street beside open sidewalk. I cursed, out loud, and made a fast sprint so I was at least out of her angle of sight, mostly covered by the car, but not getting too close as to get her nervous.
"Lara!" I called out to her again, cursing quietly when she remained silent. "Lara, listen to me! Don’t shoot, okay? Just listen to me for a minute."
When I saw her rise, I ducked lower to the ground, but she didn’t come up with the shotgun. I couldn’t take it as a good sign. Was I even being effective at all? We hadn't known each other that long, there was no reason for her to trust me. Even if I did save her life, I didn’t do it because I planned to; as far as she knew, I just didn’t want to be the one to pull the trigger.
"Lara, answer me, please. I'll stay where I am, I promise."
Fuck, I had no idea what I was doing. Trying to tell people I wasn’t going to kill them wasn’t a big part of my job, any more than comfort had had a part in my life.
"Come on, Lara," I said, giving it a valid effort. "Just put the shotgun down so we can have a conversation. I'll even toss my gun away if you want. Talk to me, okay?"
I waited, even knowing it was hopeless. I meant it, I would toss the gun even if it was my only means of defense, but would she take it that way? She'd seen me hurt a bunch of people without taking a single shot, but the proximity then had been less than now. I didn't think I was being particularly convincing anyway.
My thought was proved right when she rose, positioned with the gun, and fired another shot.
It wasn’t anywhere near my direction, but I took it as her answer. I laid flat on the ground and thought for a few seconds. When she didn’t move for a while, I made a snap decision.
I picked myself off the ground slowly, quietly. I moved, as soundlessly as I could, heading for the trunk side of the car. I got into position and held still. I could hear her rough breathing, and I could almost picture her trembling. If I just jumped out at her, there was enough room that she could shoot me, or one of us—most likely me, but I still had a gun that I would have no problem using—would end up hurt.
It was one of the riskiest decisions I'd made in a while. Until I remembered what happened earlier, me going against one of the most notorious mafia members in the country, and I decided this was a close second.
Moving silently, I tossed my gun, and it landed loudly on the road. Almost immediately, I heard her move. I took a breath and rushed out; quietly. She must have seen me in her peripheral vision but wasn’t fast enough to act. Not taking a chance, I slipped behind her and grabbed her arm that still held the shotgun. I could feel her jump, then start to shake. She didn’t stop me from taking the gun from her, and I tossed it in the direction of my own.
I was tense for a moment, expecting her to attack me. She knew I was hurt, even knew where—she'd been there as the doctor patched me up after al
l—so she knew my weak spot. She must have learned some self-defense, even just basic, at the police academy. I was better than just basic, even injured; there was no way I was releasing her while she still thought to kill me.
When she wouldn't, I urged her up until we were both standing, then I wrapped my arms around her, trapping her arms against her sides, just in case. She stood, trembling in my arms, and I thought I caught a slight whimper. I cursed, in my head so I wouldn’t make her jump.
She was afraid of me. It was unavoidable, but it was also the last thing I wanted. Trust was a shaky thing, not so easy to regain once broken, no matter how small it was, to begin with. If we were going to be around each other for any length of time, I had to trust she wouldn’t try to shoot me in my sleep.
But the man must have meant something to her, probably as much as her partner. She was acting much like she had then, angry and afraid, defiant. I shot him right in front of her, of course, that wouldn’t make her happy.
But he was pulling a gun. I had no choice.
He hadn't seen me, so he couldn’t have been pulling it with the intent to shoot me. I was good enough, and they were occupied enough, that he would never have noticed me coming until I was too close.
Lara must have seen him pulling the gun, but she'd just stood there. I shot him before he could do something, was she thinking he had planned to aim at me?
He hadn't, but she wasn’t going to see it that way unless I explained, and I didn’t think she'd just listen to me…
I got closer, plastered my body to her back, and wrapped my arms tighter around hers, trying to stop her body trembling. I touched my cheek to hers so she wouldn’t be tempted to smack her head back into mine. There was no way to block that with us so close, and with her height, she'd get me in the jaw.
"Lara?" I whispered close to her ear. "Are you ready to listen?"
She didn’t move for a moment. I could feel my heart begin to sink. I couldn’t just release her; I'd have to knock her out and get her back to the room. Then find something to tie her down with and hope she'd be in a better mood when she woke up.
I'd hate to do that, though.
But then, Lara moved her head. It was a small movement, but with my cheek to hers, I could feel it was an up and down movement. It was as good as a nod.
"I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Can you believe that?"
Her body went stiff, and I could practically hear the skepticism loud and clear. I sighed, impatient, and thought I should be more precise and to the point. Chatting had never been my strong suite.
"Listen to me, Lara," I said slowly. "Very carefully. If I wanted to kill you, I would jam a small knife into your carotid artery and leave you here to bleed out. I don’t want to do that. I want to help you."
It probably wasn’t the most calming thing I could have said. A coward would have been screaming or passed out from that alone, but Lara wasn’t like that. She was brave.
It took her a minute to get what I was trying to tell her. I could have killed her easily; I didn’t even need to have a weapon. I would have done it long before if it was my intention. Leaving her for Eric—or the police—was no skin off my back; having her around was nothing but a hindrance.
I dragged her along with me anyway.
"Nod your head if you understand, Lara."
I waited for a tense moment, prepared to knock her out, no matter how unpleasant an experience it would be for us both. But she did nod. It was more pronounced this time, so there was no mistaking it.
"I'm going to release you, Lara. Don’t fight me, because I can and will hurt you if you do." No response. "Do you understand?" I said succinctly.
She gave another nod.
We stood still for a moment, and I slowly released my hold on her. When she didn’t move, I pulled my arms away and took a step back from her. A few more moments passed in silence, then she turned around and met my eyes.
Evidence
Lara
I turned around so I could look at Clay. He was a couple of steps away, body relaxed, even though his eyes, and his face was cautious. He still expected me to do something.
But I didn’t think I could attack him and beat him. I'd seen him fight with someone bigger, injured, and still managed to hold his own in the fight. I was only slightly higher than a basic level, having taken martial arts lessons since I was sixteen. Even hurt, he would pulverize me.
"You wanted to talk, so start talking."
His lips firmed, and he glanced down at… Luke. "Do you know who this man is?"
I looked at him laying down in my peripheral, looking away quickly. "Don’t you mean was?"
He made an impatient sound. "Fine, Lara. Do you know who this man was?"
I frowned at him. "Yeah. He was my mentor; I've known him for years, from before the academy. What's your point?"
"My point is you don’t know him as well as you thought you did."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Lara, that cop, that you called here, is one of Eric's most trusted dirty cops. I've seen him around Eric plenty of times, but I tend to keep to the sidelines, I don’t think he knew what I look like. But I do know that he's only one of many that Eric has working for him on the police force. He helps out with some legality issues, and he's paid handsomely for what he does."
I didn’t want to believe him. I'd known Luke a while, hell, he was my inspiration for joining the police academy, to begin with. I never got along well with my parents, and they kicked me out as soon as I was eighteen. Luke let me stay with him for a while before I got myself back on my feet. I left after a couple of weeks, feeling I was being a bother, but he offered to let me live with him, at no charge.
I even considered it. And he helped pay half my tuition when I decided to join the academy. Had he been dirty back then? How could I not have known for years?
"How can I trust you?" I spoke without thinking, and the words surprised me. But I looked up at Clay, not taking the question back.
He frowned, opened his mouth to say something, only to snap it shut. He huffed, and pushed a hand through his hair. The look he aimed at me was almost exhausted.
"Lara, I threw my gun down, even when you still had the shotgun, and you could have killed me. I don’t do that sort of thing—I like being armed when I'm in a gun fight."
That's right, the sound he used to distract me so he could get the jump on me. Even when he had, he didn’t hurt me like I expected him to. Like someone truly trying to kill me would.
Unless he was just trying to lure me into a false sense of security.
"So why did you do that." Why did he help me, to begin with? A lot of what he did didn’t make much sense to me.
"Because I trust you."
"You don’t know me."
"No, but besides just the gun thing. I'm injured, and we ended up in a shared motel room. I fell asleep before you did. Lara, I sleep alone, have for a lot of years, because I don’t trust the people I hang out with not to try and slit my throat in my sleep. I would never have done that if I didn’t trust you."
I wanted to tell him he was hanging around with the wrong crowd, then, but he probably knew already.
"I'm asking," he continued, then paused, taking a step closer. "I am asking you to trust me back, even just a little. I can see it’s a lot to take in, he must have meant something to you, but try and understand why I had to kill him."
"He was pulling his gun…" I remembered. I hadn't had enough time to question the move, he just was, then he was shot and I was distracted.
But thinking about it… if one of us would have seen Clay coming, it would have been me more than Luke. So, he could not have been pulling the gun because he thought some threat was close by, unless.... I was the target.
I was sure Clay could see the truth dawning on me. The blood left my face as I realized just how close I came to death, a third time that night, but the first ever by someone I thought I could trust.
"Exactly. He was pulling his g
un, and he was going to shoot you with it. I was trying to stop him."
I shook my head, in disbelief, but not because I didn’t believe him. Or rather, in denial, because I didn’t want to believe that.
"Besides, I can prove he's dirty."
"How?"
He watched me a moment, then turned away, toward… Luke's body. I swallowed back bile as I watched him. Luke had fallen on his front, and Clay grabbed his shoulder to roll him over. I stepped back a few steps, glad for the dark that concealed him, not wanting to see. There would be blood on him. I breathed shallowly through my mouth, even though the air was technically clear where I stood.
Clay didn’t seem to be bothered at all, patting down the body, going through the pockets. I wanted to be sick. Luke was someone I knew, someone I trusted. Even if it turned out I shouldn’t have, I'd have to mourn him, too.
Clay pulled out a phone from a pocket, it looked like a burner phone, one I hadn't seen him with before. Luke had a smartphone, something bigger and more advanced than mine was, something that fit right into his big palms but felt awkward in mine.
He rose and moved from the body, dismissing it casually as he fiddled with the phone in his hand. I saw his face set in grim triumph, and he held the phone out to me.
"Look at this."
I took it from him, reluctantly, like it was a bomb and it was going to explode in my hand. There were some text messages, just five of them. I shot a frown at him and then turned back to the phone in my hand.
I read the text messages. They didn’t make much sense at first, but the last ones were extremely clear.
Outgoing: Got something for you.
Outgoing: Just answered an interesting call.
Incoming: One minute.
Then a time lag between that and the next one.
His Betrayal: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Omerta Series Book 5) Page 6
