Page 38 of Hard Game

“Not just the women, Diess.”

I rip open my car door, slamming it with a satisfying clunk. I inhale the cold, crisp air of the early hours of the morning and thank God my neighbors are asleep. I don’t need them asking any questions.

“Hey, I’m serious. Give him the benefit of the doubt,” Elijah says, coming to a stop beside me. His breath comes out in puffs as he jams his hands in his jacket. “He said they wouldn’t let him leave. Why would he lie? Why would he be killing men for you if he was a trafficker, hmm?”

I don’t answer, and instead, I turn to him and say, “I don’t care about Moreno. If you want to talk to him, you go for it. I have nothing to say to him. Now, let’s go and examine my apartment.”

“You mean the crime scene,” Elijah mutters, following me as I walk up the moss-covered pathway to my apartment.

My heart thuds in my chest as we approach, and a sliver of sweat trickles down my back. What if Taron is still there, staring lifelessly ahead with his one eye? Nausea threatens to own my stomach again, but I grit my teeth and open the door, turning to see Elijah watching me wordlessly. How many times have we done this? Gone into a crime scene together? Studied and questioned everything, missed nothing? So this is how I approach my apartment, like a detective. There’s a faint smell of paint and bleach, but it’s overpowered with vanilla, and I see incense burning on the freshly scrubbed coffee table. The walls are freshly painted. My eyes fly to the place where Taron got shot, but there’s no sofa anymore.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “He wasn’t kidding,”

Elijah crosses his arms and sighs. “I swear to God, if forensics come here, they’ll find things we can’t. But as far as I can see…this place is clean.”

I swallow my fear. He’s right, though; surely, forensics would see the blood splatter on the wall. It’s a beautiful canvas of cream, but I can still see the crimson running down the wall in my mind. I shudder and feel Elijah’s hand on my shoulder.

“Where’s his body, Lauren?”

I stiffen and lift my shoulders, hating the guilt owning me right now. “I don’t know, Elijah.”

We stand side by side, both of us lost in our guilt. What do we do now?

“Well, it’s not here,” Elijah mutters, checking my bedroom, even under the bed, to my amusement.

“What, you think they hid it under my bed?” I quip, my voice hoarse.

Elijah stands in the doorway, finally meeting my eyes. “Taron was one of us, even if we didn’t like him,” he says, and my lips curl with disgust.

“Actually, he wasn’t,” I tell him, watching his face change into disbelief. “Moreno said he was a bent cop.”

Anger twists Elijah’s features, so I quickly add, “But that’s according to Moreno, who could be a fucking liar.”

Elijah shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. “He also killed him, and you said it was for calling you a slut. What if Moreno is a good guy, and he killed Taron because of his shit lies and deceit? No one likes a corrupt cop, let alone a corrupt detective.”

I cross my arms stubbornly. I refuse to believe Maddox is a good guy—not when I watched him put a bullet in Taron’s eye. No, he’s not a good guy. He may think he is, but he’s not.

“You know, I think he could be a good guy; maybe he’s no angel,” Elijah says, looking around the room. “But if Taron asked you to fuck him just for the name of the informant, which is a stretch, no offense—” He gives me a half smile before continuing, “He put you in a vulnerable and possibly dangerous situation, Lauren. Who knows what Taron might have done if you refused him? Turned nasty, you know?”

I clench my jaw and struggle to breathe. I can’t tell Elijah that Taron knew about my sister, that he offered to tell me information about her in exchange for information on Moreno and my body. I shudder. Elijah would stifle me with sympathy, and I don’t want that. I want revenge.

“Maybe you were lucky Moreno was here when he was.” Elijah sighs and looks around before walking toward me. “Do you want to stay at mine tonight? I can’t imagine you want to sleep here after this.”

I find myself shaking my head, and he blinks in surprise.

“For real? You want to stay here?”

I nod. “It’s my home,” I say softly, hating that Taron and Maddox had ruined it for me. “I have to. What do we do if we’re asked about Taron?” I lift my gaze to Elijah, and he groans.

“You could’ve been raped, Lauren,” he finally says. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation.”

I shake my head, my brow furrowing, but he holds his hand up, stepping closer.

“I never would have forgiven myself if that would have happened, and between us, I would have hung, drawn, and quartered the piece of shit for it myself.”

A lump forms in my throat as he smiles, his cheeks reddening.

“You’re the closest thing I have to a sister, Diess. I’ve gotta look after you.” With that, he ruffles my hair and glances around the apartment. “Want me to sleep on the—oh. You don’t have one.”

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