Irresistible Attraction

by W Winters

  “We’re doing a DNA test now. You think it’s going to hit, Walsh?” The other officer, Linders, finally speaks to Walsh, even if his eyes are still pinned on me. There’s a certain level of disdain that seeps into my skin every time I meet his gaze.

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” Officer Walsh answers. He’s staring at me too, even as he taps the stack of papers in his hand and continues, “I think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and that she has names.”

  Tick, tick, the clock goes on. It’s been like this for hours in this cold interrogation room. An ache in my back reminds me how uncomfortable this metal chair is.

  “I don’t think so. I think she was hired for a hit or was hiring someone else and it went wrong.” Officer Linders speaks clearly, although his voice is low and rough. “A hit or drugs. There’s no other explanation. Who’d you get the cash from?” he asks me. It has to be the hundredth time they’ve asked about the cash. “Where did it all go wrong?”

  “I already told you,” I start to say but don’t recognize my tired voice anymore as I lift my gaze to Officer Walsh’s and then to Linders’s. “I don’t have anything to say.”

  Officer Walsh leans forward, exasperated. The metal legs grind against the floor as he repositions in his chair. “I saw how scared you were,” he says. Compassion wraps itself around every word and his gaze pleads with me to give him something. “I can help you.”

  A second passes and then another.

  I could let it all out. I could tell them the truth. I know I could. Maybe they’d give me a new name and send me off to some place where bad men can’t find me. Somewhere free of all these memories. A place where I didn’t have to think of my sister or my fucked up life.

  Where I wouldn’t feel the presence of Jase Cross on every inch of surface I can see, smell, touch.

  As I swallow, the click of the the heat switching on is all that can be heard in the room.

  I don’t want to live in that world. In a world where Jase Cross doesn’t hover over me. Even if he scared the hell out of me. Recalling the sight of him sitting there on the edge of the tub, tilting his head to look me in the eyes, makes me close mine tight. I don’t know what happened, but I can’t leave him.

  More than anything, the incessant ticking of the clock reminds me that every second that passes, I’m not with him. He’s not okay and I’m not with him.

  Let me fall to whatever may await me, and I’ll crawl my way back up to Jase. I’ll find him or he’ll find me. And when that happens, he better fucking confess. I deserve to know what happened.

  Strands of my hair wind around my finger as I ignore Officer Walsh. He hasn’t charged me yet, but I know he will. I’ll be charged with obstruction of justice for not giving them information about the blood on my shirt when it comes back confirmed from a human… or maybe with a name. God forbid it comes back as from a missing person. And who knows what I’ll be charged with because of the cash in the back of my car. I don’t even know what the offenses will be, since so many have been listed off in their speculation of what I’ve done.

  But I’ll never say a word. And that’s how I know I care more for Jase than I should. And why he needs to tell me everything.

  “There’s no helping anything. Whatever she says will be a lie.” The dark stare of Officer Linders makes my stomach curl.

  Good cop, bad cop, I suppose. I manage to offer him a hint of a smile. My mouth moves on its own and I didn’t mean for it to do that. It just happens. As if I need to tempt fate any further.

  “Let me make you an offer,” Officer Walsh starts and Linders huffs in disdain, rocking back in the chair and for the first time his gaze shifts from me. He’s young, very Italian in appearance although he doesn’t have an accent. He scratches at his coarse dark stubble as Officer Walsh draws my attention.

  “I used to work for the FBI and I have some friends in town, looking into things.” There’s a sense of compassion and empathy in Cody Walsh’s voice that’s hypnotizing, like a lullaby that draws you in. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I have connections. I know what happened to your sister. I know Jase Cross has been seen at your residence.”

  His light blue eyes sharpen every time he says, ‘Cross.’ “What I know is that you can have a happy life. You can start over, Bethany. All you have to do is tell me what happened.”

  It’s like he read my mind. A way out. This is the bottom of the barrel, isn’t it? When you need witness protection to find a way out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself.

  Officer Linders clears his throat and the spell from Walsh is broken for only a moment as my eyes flick between the two of them. A man with hate for me, and another who I’ve felt from the first day I saw him, that he wanted to help me.

  “All you have to do is tell me what happened.” His hand gestures an inch above the table as he adds, “No matter how guilty you may feel; no matter what you’ve done.”

  Everything seems to slow as a part of my conscience begs me to consider. The part that remembers how dark Jase’s eyes were when I last saw him. The part that’s fear’s companion. The part that questions if I’m strong enough for all this. Even if Jase tells me what he did and why he was sitting there like that, like he was someone else. Even if I pretend as though what happened earlier today will never happen again.

  And yet another part of me is like a signal amid all the noise. A part that’s fading away. A small part that remembers this all started because I wanted a single thing from Jase Cross.

  A name. The murderer who made the one person I had left in my life disappear. Justice for my sister.

  A name Jase has yet to deliver.

  I have to blink away the thoughts, and Officer Walsh seems to take it as me considering his offer.

  Say nothing, do nothing. Say nothing, do nothing. Fall down the rabbit hole; they can even throw me in that pit if they want. When I finally land, I’ll do what I’ve always done. I’ll stand up on my own and keep moving. With Jase or without.

  Three knocks at the door startle me, causing the chair I’m firmly seated in to jump back. Officer Walsh is the one to stand and rise, leaving Linders staring at me, relishing in the hint of fear I’ve shown. I can barely hear someone outside the slightly ajar door speaking to Officer Walsh over the sound of my heart racing.

  All my life, I’ve lived by elementary rules. Do what is right and not what is wrong. It’s the simplest way to break down the laws of life. And yet here I sit, not knowing my judgment and wondering when the black and white of right and wrong turned so gray for me. Especially since I can’t even list all the wrong things I’ve done recently. There are too many to count, yet I’d defend them all.

  “Be right back.” Officer Walsh is tense as he grips the door, locks eyes with me, then leaves the room. With only Linders across from me, a new tension rises inside of me.

  I don’t like the way he looks at me. Fear and anger curl my fingers into a fist in my lap.

  Say nothing, do nothing.

  He stares at me and I him, neither of us saying a word until a small red light goes off to my left. It’s oddly placed in between the painted bricks. If it had never come on, I would’ve never known of its existence. And the little red light changes everything.

  “It’s clear for the moment, but I don’t know how long we’ll have, so I’ll be fast,” Linders says quickly with a new tone I haven’t heard from him. Leaning forward, the distaste vanishes, and the hate I felt he had for me is nowhere to be found.

  “It’s all being scrubbed; every shred of evidence on you is going to vanish. Or it already has. Officer Walsh won’t have anything to hold you on and no charges will be pressed.”

  “What?” Disbelief takes the form of a whisper.

  “He already knows someone here at the station is in their back pocket. It’ll be all right,” he assures me when my expression doesn’t change. “If you want to go to a cell, tell me. If you’d rather stay here, we’ll have to keep this up when Walsh comes back, but
I’ll make sure he doesn’t cross the line. There are others too who are loyal to Walsh, but I’ll stay with you the entire time. Unless you want to be alone.”

  “I don’t understand.” I don’t know why that’s my reply.

  Because I do understand. The pieces line up with one another perfectly. The Cross brothers control the police department. I knew that. I know that now, even. But to be a part of it, to see it happening…

  “Mr. Cross told me to protect you and get you out of here.” His eyes search mine, although there isn’t a bit of judgment to be found.

  “Thank you,” is all I can say although I wrap my arms around myself and contemplate what would have happened if I was in a different mindset. If I was ready to spill my guts. If I was wanting that new life Walsh sold me so well.

  I should feel relief, which I do. The more nagging thoughts are of how powerful Jase is. How much damage a single man could do. And how little I know about him. Yet how willing I was to fall for him.

  What if I had said something? What then?

  “The shirt’s been destroyed and that’s really the only damaging piece he had on you,” Linders tells me, clearing his throat.

  The money.

  “What about the money?” The question leaves me with haste just as the red light vanishes, blending in with the wall once again.

  “Are you going to sit there and deny everything? Maybe I should put you behind bars and see how you like that,” Linders sneers, forcing my body to turn ice cold. I can feel the blood drain from my face, even if I’m consciously aware this time that it’s all an act.

  “What’s it going to be, Miss Fawn? Are you going to talk? Or do you want us to stick you in a cell like the criminal you are?” Those are the options he offers me as the door opens and Walsh returns. Walsh’s demeanor is defeated as he motions for Linders to follow him out of the interrogation room.

  Linders doesn’t though. He doesn’t obey the command from his superior. He waits for me, wanting to know an answer.

  Words get stuck in my throat and I try to swallow them, I try to speak.

  Nothing comes. Not a word is spoken as I stare into Linders’ gaze, knowing he’s one of so many men who do Jase’s bidding.

  Jase is still here, still in this room, protecting me even when I didn’t know it.

  Jase

  “It’s risky with the FBI already involved,” Seth speaks from the driver’s seat as we’re parked out front of the police station. His eyes seek mine out in the rearview mirror and I meet them, but I only nod, not bothering to speak. “Four men now, active agents, coming all the way down here from New York.” He sucks his front teeth in the absence of a response from me.

  It’s all my fault. It’s my fault she’s in there. I know it is. What I don’t know is what the fuck came over me.

  A voice in the back of my head answers instantly. She did. Bethany Fawn came over me.

  “We should prepare for someone to take the fall,” Seth continues and a grunt of acknowledgment comes from my chest.

  I’ve already been thinking about it. How best to handle this particular fuckup of mine. It involves a dead former FBI agent by the name of Cody Walsh and one of my men in a jail cell taking the fall. Judge Martin will give the minimum sentence. All because I fucked up at a time when fucking up isn’t a possibility.

  “Someone who needs the money for their family. Someone who’d go away for a year and be all right with that.” Seth rattles on.

  “Chris Mowers,” I finally answer him and then clear my throat although my eyes stay glued to the double doors at the front entrance. “He’s new to the crew, young and seemingly naïve. His dad isn’t doing well. Medical costs and looking out for his mother while he’s serving time should do it. Besides, we’ve primed him for this.” Chris wanted to work for me. I told him to go through the police academy, to earn a position we could use to our advantage. “He’s not going to like it. But we can make it worth it.”

  My answer receives a single nod from Seth followed by the impatient tapping of his foot in the front seat.

  “You’re too nervous,” I comment. I’m well aware of the consequences and everything at stake in this moment. The nerves he feels are nothing compared to the turmoil rattling inside of me. “Knock it the fuck off.”

  With his hand running over his chin he takes in a deep breath, but doesn’t speak. Instead he releases a long sigh.

  “You have something on your mind?” I push him.

  I start to think he’s going to keep it from me, whatever it is he’s thinking, and then he finally says, “She’s different.”

  Bethany. Every muscle in my body tenses at the mere mention of her.

  “Yes,” I answer him, feeling a pressure inside of my chest that makes me grit my teeth.

  “She’s in your head.” He swallows after speaking.

  Narrowing my eyes, I answer him with an acknowledging yes.

  “I don’t know how to help that,” Seth admits, breaking eye contact in the small rectangular mirror for the first time. I hear him readjust in the seat in front of me as he adds, “I don’t know what I should have done differently.” When I don’t immediately respond to that, he doesn’t say anything else.

  The sound of a car driving past us intrudes on the silence and I watch the tires leave tracks on the asphalt after driving through a small puddle. The brutal cold hasn’t stopped the early spring flowers from pushing through the dirt out front of the police station.

  Staring at the double doors that hold my cailín tine behind them, I finally answer him, “This is all on me. I know where I fucked up and you did everything right.”

  “What if it happens again?” he questions and a coil of anger tightens inside of me. He adds, “What do you want me to do? When you took off, I knew I should have stopped you.”

  I don’t have time to answer him. Instead my attention is drawn to the doors being held open by Curt Linders while Bethany walks through them. With her arms crossed, she stands at the top of the concrete stairs, looking smaller than she ever has to me. Her hair is wild as the wind blows from her left and it’s then that her gaze lands on our car.

  “You don’t have to worry about it,” I say without taking my eyes off of her. “The next time I’ll be the one taking the fall,” I answer him and push my door open, not hesitating to go to her. Curt’s shock doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither does Seth’s protest to simply wait for her and for me to remain inside the vehicle.

  Neither of them understand. At this point, all I want is to be seen with her.

  Let them all see. They need to know she’s mine.

  I’m drawing the line here, hoping it keeps her beside me regardless of what happens.

  Bethany manages to take two steps by the time I’ve closed the distance between us. She’s hesitant even as I wrap my arm around the small of her back.

  A sharp hammering in my chest beats faster than my shoes thud on the pavement to get her in my car and away from this situation.

  The feeling of failing her, of her knowing and seeing who I truly am grips me and in turn, I hold her closer. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me before running off.

  “It was a mistake,” I mutter beneath my breath, but the tension in her body doesn’t lessen and she doesn’t look up at me in the least.

  Seth’s quick to get out and open the door for us. I’m only grateful she doesn’t pause before slipping inside.

  The door shuts with a resounding click as another gust of wind blows.

  “You all right?” Seth asks me and I look him dead in the eyes to answer him. “No more fucking questions.”

  I don’t have the answers to give him. None that I’m willing to give, anyway.

  The bitter cold from outside doesn’t carry into the back of the car. The warmth is lacking nonetheless as we leave the police department behind in silence.

  The dull hum of the car doesn’t last long. “Nothing will happen to you. I promise you.” My words are quiet, but I know she hears
them.

  Her hands stay in her lap and she answers while still looking out of her window, “Thank you.”

  I didn’t expect this distance between us. I didn’t expect the damage to be so obvious. Regret urges me closer to her, leaning across the leather seat to grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger and forcing her to look at me.

  She doesn’t resist, but uncertainty lingers in the depths of her hazel eyes and her breathing becomes unsteady.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I should never have let you see that.”

  She only swallows, the sound so loud in the quiet space between us.

  “No, you shouldn’t have. But I shouldn’t have run.”

  “It would have been better if you hadn’t.” There’s no fire, no fight, nothing except hurt. “I know it scared you.”

  It’s the way she hesitates before answering. The strained way she breathes in when she looks into my eyes. She doesn’t trust me.

  “I don’t know what to think right now. I’m going back and forth.”

  “Back and forth?”

  “Whether or not I’m capable of standing beside you. Of demanding you tell me what the fuck happened.” Her voice drops as she adds, “And whether or not I can stomach the truth.”

  It’s been a long damn time since I’ve felt the sense of losing someone. Of feeling them slip through my fingers. I can feel it; I can fucking see it. I just don’t know how to change it.

  “Marry me.” I let the idea slip out, but keep my composure. I can’t lose her. I fucked up, but everyone fucks up at some point. She’ll get over it. I just need time. “They can’t make you testify if you’re legally married to me.” The excuse comes out easily enough.

  Her eyes widen as I lean back in my seat. I thought about it every second we sat outside the department. She needs to be my wife.

  “You’re fucking crazy to think I’d take that proposal seriously.”

  “If something happens--”

  “I’d go to jail,” she cuts me off, her fire blazing as the irritation grows in her eyes. “I’d rather go to jail than marry someone because I accidentally saw something I shouldn’t have.” She eyes me as if I’ve lost it, and maybe I have. “I’ll stick to my story that I don’t know how any of it happened and I don’t have anything else to say. Thank you very much,” she says, and her final quip comes with the crossing of her legs away from me. She stares out the window again and it’s then I realize where the term ‘cold shoulder’ comes from.