Heartbreak Hotel (Dark Friends-to-Lovers)

by Kenya Wright

Hawk disturbed my thoughts. “You’re okay?”

  “Yes, but you didn’t know about what Brett did?”

  “No, I had no idea. I knew he kept in touch with your sister. That was it. When we talked about going to Key West, he mentioned that you were engaged to a movie producer. A week later, we flew off to Key West.”

  “Cindy and Brett.” I shook my head. “I’m sure Cindy told him about all the problems I was having with Greg.”

  I didn’t add that Cindy thought Brett liked me and maybe she was trying to set us up.

  Hawk looked at me. “When did you catch your ex with Nadia?”

  “It’s been about a month ago, but basically a few days before I saw you down here.”

  “So, it sounds like it was around the time Brett knew him and I would be coming here. He’d said he had some things to take care of before we flew down. Did Cindy know you were coming back?”

  “Yeah. I called her the day I caught Greg cheating and jumped on a place that night.”

  “So, there’s a good chance Brett knew his plan had worked and you would be here when we arrived.”

  Brett was trying to be a fucked-up cupid.

  Hawk stopped us in front of his door. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have done that. Because of him, you were heartbroken.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. All Brett did was dangle cheese in front of a rat. Is it Brett’s fault that the rat ate the cheese? I don’t think so. If not her, it would’ve been someone else. I should give Brett a thank you card.”

  Hawk ran his fingers through his hair. “For now, don’t bring this up to Brett. Let me handle it, please.

  “I will, but why?”

  “I want to see how far his plotting has gone. He knew I was messed up after the trial. He probably figured you would’ve been the only person to get my head together.”

  “Do you agree?”

  “You know I do.” He opened the door. “It’s just...what else has Brett been doing?”

  “I’m sure that was it.”

  “I doubt it.” Hawk led us up the stairs. “I have to check something. Brett and one of his females were arguing a couple nights ago. She mentioned something about letters. I have to check on something.”

  “What?”

  “The letters.”

  “What letters?”

  “The letters that Lisa wrote me from jail.”

  “Your ex-wife?” Panic filled my chest. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to read any of her letters?”

  “No, but Brett is being extra devious. Something is going on. There’s two things that he’s been pushing with me since we’ve been here—you and these damn letters. I don’t know why, but I have this feeling and I won’t ignore it like I did long ago.”

  Those last words triggered panic in my chest.

  What’s wrong?

  Chapter 16

  Hawk

  Yaz remained silent. I brought the box of letters into my bedroom and set them on the floor. I almost placed them on my bed, but I couldn’t. I’d made love to Yaz on that bed this week. It held the most beautiful memories I’d had in my life.

  She’d transformed me. For fuck’s sake, she’d even changed the effect of the bed and everything else in my room. I could’ve sworn the mattress had become more comfortable and my room had brightened, even though the windows were half open, the curtain swinging with the breeze as usual.

  I sat behind the box. Yaz sat down on the other side of it.

  There, Lisa’s letters from jail remained between us.

  “Did he hurt you?” I asked.

  “Greg? No. I’m fine, Hawk.”

  “If he comes to you again, call me.”

  “Thank you, but I can take care of myself.”

  “This guy’s not done bothering you.”

  “No, he’s got the message.”

  “I hope you’re right. But if I was him, I would be at your door the next day and the next until you told me yes.”

  “Thank God he’s not you.” She gestured to the box. “Why are you going to read them?”

  “Because something’s wrong.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then, how do you know something’s wrong?”

  “Because everything is so right.”

  How could I explain to her that I now had a new fear running through my heart? I’d been comfortable with my regular doom, but now she’d introduced a new terror. Now I feared losing her and was terrified that our happiness would fade away. I had to protect us.

  Or am I just being anxious and paranoid?

  “Brett clearly wanted you in Key West while I was here, but why? Am I missing something else or just being suspicious?” I pulled two envelopes out of the box. “Does he want me to feel better...or is he trying to keep me distracted from a scary truth?”

  “Distracted?” Worry spread across her face. “What scary truth?”

  “The whole reason we came to Key West was so I could take a break from searching for Lisa’s accomplice. Even though I’d agreed to come here, I brought files with me on the murders. Once Brett spotted me spending time with you, Vera told me he had those files delivered back to New York.”

  “So, wait a minute? You think your ex had an accomplice?”

  “Yes. Those bodies would’ve been too heavy to move by herself.”

  “She could’ve moved them if she had a wheelbarrow. Women have killed on their own and have gotten rid of bodies all by ourselves. We’re not as weak as you think.”

  “I’m sure she had someone helping her.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I have this feeling that I’m right.”

  She frowned. “And what if the feeling is wrong?”

  “Then, I’m paranoid and crazier than I thought.”

  “Which would be normal for what you’ve been through.”

  I let out a long breath and tore open one of the envelopes, not caring to preserve anything Lisa had touched.

  Yaz watched me with concern. “When did she write these?”

  “A few weeks ago, but I’m not sure when.” I opened the letter. “Okay. This letter has a date that’s after she was convicted.”

  In the room, darkness hovered above us. Outside, thunder rumbled. There would be a storm coming. The curtains waved up and down with more movement.

  My hands shook.

  “Do you want me to read it?” Yaz asked.

  “No. I don’t want her words leaving your mouth. I don’t even want you to touch the same pages as her. I want this away from you as much as possible.”

  She folded her legs and whispered, “Okay.”

  I cleared my throat and read, “Dear Hulk.”

  “Hulk?”

  I felt sick that Lisa had used that old nickname. “Doesn’t matter.”

  Yaz nodded.

  I read some more. “I’m writing to tell you that I’m sorry for everything...”

  I paused and shook my head.

  “What’s wrong?” Yaz asked.

  “Her Os have always been smiley faces and she would never say sorry. She hasn’t said sorry this whole time. Why now?”

  “Maybe because she’s going to die in jail and now has had all his time to self-reflect.”

  “No.” I scanned the letter and barely read it. My focus was on all the letter Os that had no face smiling back at me. “You’ve already seen the one she drew on me. But then, on half of the evidence presented in court there were smiley faced Os—in her diaries, on reciepts to buy tools to bury the bodies, and even on her confession. During the trial, she doodled Os with smiley faces. The news caught it a few times.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “There are no smiley faced Os on any of these letters.”

  “So, you don’t think she wrote these?”

  “I don’t.”

  What’s going on? Why would the warden send fake letters?

  Obsessed, I turned my laptop on to find the email from t
he facility. Brett had forwarded the email to me. In it, the warden had explained why he was sending the letters. Unfortunately, the facilty’s phone number wasn’t there. Further research gave me the telephone number to his office.

  The whole time I did this, Yaz watched with worry in her gaze.

  She probably thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am.

  I grabbed my phone, called the warden, and a woman took my message, explaining that the warden would return my call later today. Dissatisfied, I hung up.

  “Hawk, I don’t think any of this has to do with what Brett did to Greg.”

  “And what if it does?” I asked.

  “Then, we’ll figure that out.”

  “That’s not good enough for me. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Yaz gave me a weak smile. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I think you’re just going down the wrong path right now.”

  Maybe I was. Earlier, when I looked out the window and spotted Greg grabbing Yaz’s arm, my whole body went into possessive mode. Rage exploded inside of my chest. Bloody murder spun around in my head. I rushed out and was ready to fucking kill him. The whole time, I’d said to myself over and over that I shouldn’t have let her leave my bedroom.

  Perhaps the anxiety over Greg and her had shifted me into paranoia. I didn’t know if it was true. I just needed answers.

  I opened the other letters. There were ten of them, but none had the smiley faced Os. However, all of them talked about Lisa’s guilt and sadness over the deaths and how none of it was my fault. Lies. Those letters were lies.

  Once Lisa was discovered as the true killer, her mask fell away. She stopped hiding her true self. The monster appeared for the world to see and never hid again. Lisa had no remorse or guilt. In court, she smiled as witnesses presented evidence. Every time a camera flashed her way, she waved like she’d been crowned Miss America.

  She didn’t write these. So, what’s happening? Who’s trying to play games with my head?

  Yaz and I dumped the fake letters back into the box.

  “She could’ve wrote these.” Yaz shrugged.

  “She didn’t.” My phone rang. I answered. “Hello.”

  “This is Warden Thomson. I’m trying to get in touch with a Mr. Hawkins Barron.”

  “That’s me.”

  “You’re quite the star here,” the warden said. “How can I help you?”

  “You sent a box of letters that were supposed to be written by Lisa—”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Barron, but I don’t understand.”

  “What don’t you understand?” I asked.

  “That inmate has not written any letters to anyone. However, she does have a lady reporter that visits her twice a week. Apparently, she’s writing a book.”

  “A book?”

  “Yes. It’s going to be called The Black Widow. I’ve read parts of it because we have to make sure the reporter is not passing anything each time she visits. And...we’re all wondering what else she would say, but...she hasn’t written any letters.”

  I didn’t think she did. So, Brett has done it again. How busy have you been, brother?

  “Can I help you with anything else?” the warden asked.

  “You’ve read passages from the book?”.

  “Yes.”

  “Any mention of an accomplice?”

  “No, she’s just bragging about all the things she’s done. Most of the information is stuff we already knew.”

  “But she hasn’t sent any letters?”

  “No, sir, and even if she has, your lawyer sent your signed request that all letters addressed to you be destroyed.”

  Really? Brett, you’ve been a busy, busy man.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” the warden asked.

  “No, I have all I need. Thanks again.”

  “Anytime.”

  I hung up the phone and looked at Yaz. “Brett wrote the letters or had someone else do it.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” I picked up some of the pages. A few lines caught me and I read them aloud. “You must remember. I did not have an accomplice. Live your life. Forget about me. Forget about everything.”

  I threw the letters back in the box, and then it hit me. His day girl, Olivia, had come into my studio that one time asking for a pen.

  “Do you need something from me?” I’d asked her.

  “Yeah,” she’d said. “I need a pen. Brett wants me to write these stupid letters. I don’t get it.”

  Yaz’s face shifted to worried. “So...Brett is trying to get you away from the murders. He wants you to have closure.”

  “Or he wants me to forget there was an accomplice.”

  “Which would be him trying to give you closure.”

  “Or keep me distracted.” I rose from the floor and paced. “The whole time we’ve been back, he’s been tyring to get you and I together. And he won. Since the first time I saw you, I’ve throught of nothing else but you.”

  Yaz watched me from the floor.

  “But, how did he get you here? He sends his favorite hooker, Nadia, over to ruin your relationship. You’re here and he’s thinking we’ll be together and everything will be fine. Later, when he realized we’d stopped talking, he bought Cindy and you tickets to that concert. Additionally, he gives me these fake letters from Lisa. Maybe it was insurance for me to leave the murders alone. Or maybe it was something else.” I shook my head. “Lisa didn’t write those. He had one of the chicks he met write them.”

  “What did the warden say?”

  “That she never mailed letters and that the reporter doing her story made no mention of an accomplice.”

  “So, maybe there isn’t one.”

  “Or maybe there is.” I thought back to my life. “I met Lisa through Brett.”

  Yaz looked confused. “O-kay?”

  “They were in a True Crime club together. I always thought Brett loved the club for the legal side. He was always into criminal law. He wanted to practice it after he graduated law school, but then Dad passed and he took over control of the famly business instead, concentrating on corporate law.”

  Yaz twisted her face in confusion. “Why are you saying this? I don’t get where you’re going?”

  “I never understood why Lisa was in the True Crime club. Later, I realized that she enjoyed talking about the different murders. But for Brett, maybe I was wrong too. Maybe...he is the accomplice.”

  Pain filled my heart.

  She leaned forward as if needing to get a better view of me. “You think Brett is the accomplice to your ex’s murders?”

  I let out a long breath. “I...I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “I’m sorry.” And then Yaz laughed. “We’re talking about your brother.”

  “Maybe I don’t know my brother that well anymore.”

  Yaz rose. “No, this is getting weird. I think you let your head go down the rabbit hole without a round trip ticket to come back. This is crazy. Brett? No way.”

  “I thought I knew Lisa, but I didn’t.”

  “This is your brother. You’ve known him all your life. Brett is not a killer. He’s not the accomplice.”

  My heart ached. “I’ve been wrong before.”

  “You were wrong about a woman who spent her whole life hiding who she really was. That’s not your fault.”

  “There were signs that I ignored.”

  “Like what?”

  “We never argued. She never complained. I didn’t push it. I thought I was lucky. Plus, if I am being truthful with myself, I wasn’t really paying attention. We were in college, my main focus was the books. After graduation, it was all about my company.”

  “None of this is your fault and none of this should make you question the actions of your brother or anyone else that you truly know and love. Is Brett weird? Yes. Has he gone a bit far with helping you get closure? Hell yes. Is he a womanizer? Of course. But, killer? Hell no. Stop it.”

  �
��After what I’ve been through, I’m constantly questioning everything.”

  She stepped in front of me and placed her hands on the side of my face. “That’s probably what that sick bitch wanted, but don’t do that to yourself anymore. The trial is over. The killing is over. She’s in jail and now you’re trying to lock yourself into a mental prison. Has anyone else died around you?”

  “No.”

  “Then, it’s all over. Let it go, baby. Let it all go.”

  Sighing, I pulled her to me. “And if it’s not over? If there is an accomplice, if that person starts to kill people again, then what? What if the person comes for me or something happens to you?”

  “Nothing will happen to us, and if it does, then we’ll deal with it. But for now, just stay in the moment. You’re not God. You can’t control every damn thing in this world. Forget about this and don’t ever, ever say that Brett is an accomplice. Forget about this.”

  “I buried too many people to simply forget.”

  “Our mind creates our reality. If you think the world is full of killers, it will be. You’ll walk the streets, suspecting everyone—the mailman, your friends and family. You have to keep your head clear.”

  A clear mind was something I’d hoped for, but never figured I would get again.

  “Look,” she said. “If you don’t control your head, then you’ll fuck yourself. When you think about the past, you’ll be full of regrets. That just fuels depression. When you think about the future, you’re adding anxiety to the mix. You don’t know what’s going to happen. Stop thinking about all of this. Stop creating elaborate murder-mystery-plotline-twists in your head.”

  I closed my eyes and whispered, “You’re right. What the fuck was I just thinking?”

  “Our mind creates our reality. I’m a writer. Trust me. Thinking like that will make you crazy. That’s why most authors are looney. There are moments when I have to step away from my books or problems, lay on my bed, and just breathe in and out while thinking of something positive.”

  I opened my eyes. “So...then, what should I be thinking about?”

  Yaz backed away and pulled off her shirt. “You should be thinking about me.”

  Her gaze remained locked onto mine. Those brown eyes were clear and full of love. My gut wrenched at the sight of her. I’d just dragged her through one of my dark episodes of paranoia and still she stood right in front of me.