Page 1 of Conflicted Lies

CHAPTER1

Hope

Iknow it’s wrong. I shouldn’t be here. But I got sucked into it anyway. Charlotte runs off, laughing with a concoction of too much alcohol and adrenaline pumping through her veins. I try to catch up to her, but I’m tired, and there’s also way too much alcohol in my system.

I want to sleep.

“Hope, you better run, girl,” she yells from too far ahead of me.

I wave her off and decidefuck itI don’t care. It’s not that I’m unfit, but I don’t care for running even if we’re being chased. Charlotte looks back once but doesn’t stop as she runs through Central Park in the dark. I huff, defeated as I drop to the wet grass and lie back, soaking my jeans.

Trying to catch my breath, I don’t even hear their footsteps approach until they come to a stop and bark a command.

“On your feet, miss,” one of the two men says.

Oh, fuck me. Let me catch my breath first.

“Can’t a girl rest?” I whine, not even opening my eyes.

“Now,” the second voice says, far more lethal than the first.

I huff and open my eyes.Yep, definitely the same two police officers—the ones Charlotte stole from—are looming over me. While I lie here like a fool. Honestly, I didn’t realize what she was doing until she grabbed something and yelled for me to run.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” I scrunch my nose at them. The first officer, whose wallet Charlotte stole, is shaking his head, clearly pissed. The second one, who is tall and built like a military man, is wearing a hat that covers his eyes.

“Of course we can,” he says and then shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a badge, flashing it at me. I narrow my eyes at it. To be honest, it’s a little bit blurry, and I know it has nothing to do with my wet glasses and everything to do with the too many margaritas, which is not a problem, in my opinion.

“That’s fake,” I say, being ignorant.

“No, it’s not,” he argues.

“It totally is. “Would you believe me if I pulled one out right now? I doubt it.” I argue back.

“Fucking hell, woman, where is the wallet?” He huffs, putting his badge back in his pocket. I lie back down and look up at the dark sky, pushing my glasses up my nose so they don’t fall off.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, too tired for this. My legs are heavy, and I have a stitch in my side. Okay, maybe I’m not as fit as I thought.

“Cuff her,” he tells the second officer.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I seethe, my eyes flying open.

The one with the cap has a slight smirk as he leans down to grab me. He pulls me up by my wrist, but I shove back, immediately landing back on my ass. Fuck, those margaritas went straight to my head.

“Jesus, how drunk are you?” the first cop scoffs.

I look away, indignant, despite my current messy state. “That’s none of your business. And if you don’t step back, I’ll scream.”

“Good, scream,” he says as the officer in the cap attempts to cuff me again. When he reaches for my hands, I move quickly, trying to get back to my feet. Apparently, it was too quickly because my head spins, and I fall again.

Fuck me. Was it the margaritas or extra tequila shots we had? How many did I have?

They both start laughing, and that makes me even more mad. “Put your hands behind your back,” Mr. Authority with the hat says.

“Fuck off,” I snap back.

“I don’t remember you having this much attitude. You seemed far tamer back then,” cap cop notes.

What?

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