Page 6 of Conflicted Lies

“Thank you for your time. The money’s been transferred,” my father tells Rya.

She kicks up a smile, her silvery eyes twinkling as she turns to me. “Our children are growing up faster than we’re ready for, it would appear.”

My father’s jaw tics and I internally wince. He’s so disappointed. Most likely because I got caught. Crue and my father exchange a brief nod, and then my father turns on me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I start.

“It’s fine, Hope,” he says, and his Russian accent is thicker than usual, which means he’s angry.

When I sit in the passenger seat, he closes the door behind me, and I watch him prowl around to the driver’s seat. He looks like he’s considering whether to burn down the building or not.

I gather the courage to speak again ten minutes into the drive. His gloved hands grip the steering wheel tightly, and I know he’s thinking about contingency plans. Most parents would be disappointed at having to bail their child out of temporary lockup, and I hope he doesn’t force me to have some type of security after this.

“You’re angry,” I finally say.

He shakes his head, and when we stop at a red light, his green gaze meets mine for the first time since picking me up. I know he’s seeing eyes that remind him so much of my mother’s ocean blue ones and vibrant red hair similar to my Aunt Anya’s. I’ve been told I look a lot like she did when she was younger, just shorter and plumper with my mother’s figure.

“I’m mad that they would have left anyone else alone, except they knew who you were.”

Ohhhh. He’s mad that they picked on me for my name.

“If you want to go back and take your revenge, I’ll cover you. If you want me to kill any of them, let me know, and it’ll be done by dawn.” He pauses before he says, “Do you understand?”

I try to hide my smile. “Mom would hit you over the head if she heard you talking like that. But I understand, and it’s fine. I was drunk and got caught.”

“We don’t have to tell your mother if we kill someone; it can be our little secret. But speaking of your mother, she’s not going to be happy. She only flew in tonight, and you had her worried.”

The guilt immediately floods me. My mother embraces the dark within my father, but she’s far more the worrying type, and I know she’s probably pacing the house, waiting for my return. It’s moments like this that I feel like a child again.

I explain everything that happened in detail, leaving out one fact—that I know Braxton.

When we arrive at my parents’ house, my mother is waiting at the front of their three-story home. She immediately runs down the stairs and pulls my door open.

“You’re okay?” she asks, a tenor in her tone..

“Yes,” I tell her before she pulls me in for a hug. She smothers me, but I hug her back since it’s been about a month since I last saw her in person. With both of us traveling so much for our respective art, it feels like it’s been forever, even though we FaceTime almost daily.

“Let her get into the house,” my father says, chuckling as he embraces us both and then leads us to the door.

I silently thank him, and my mother laughs, bumping against my hip as if I betrayed her by taking his side. She catches me before I stumble over.

“Oh my, you’re drunk,” she chides.

“We should get her a bodyguard for when?—”

“No!” I yell, interrupting him. “We discussed this. When I turned twenty-one, there would be no more security.”

My mother bites her bottom lip but tries not to laugh as my father practically sulks as we walk back into the house.

“I was worried,” she continues as she pulls me in for another hug.

“I’m fine. Just need a shower and some sleep.”

“You do reek of alcohol.” She chuckles. They seem to find it so hilarious because I don’t go out all that often. But when I do, I always end up like this. Like an alter ego of my usual quiet self comes out.

“I was drinking with Charlotte.”

“That explains it. Let me guess. She left you behind while the police cuffed you up.” When I don’t reply, she shakes her head. “I had a friend like that once. You’ll one day learn they aren’t the best type of people to have in your life. Why didn’t you ask Billie or Ivy if they were free?”

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