Page 84 of Conflicted Lies

“Come home with me,” he says, standing and tossing some cash on the table.

“No.”

“It wasn’t a request. Come home with me,” he repeats, offering me his hand. “There’s something I have to show you.”

I’m conflicted. I can either reach out and take his hand or leave without looking back. I want to go with him, and I’m doing everything in my power not to. I don’t know who or what to trust anymore. For self-preservation sake, I should walk away. I’ve done so many reckless things in my life, but I know Braxton Hero is the one thing that will utterly devastate and ruin me.

It’s precisely why I take his hand. Because no matter what, I have to see where this will end. Even when I’m certain I already know the outcome—him in a body bag.

He asked me what we were, and I had no answer for him. Because, in truth, I don’t know what we are. I’m not sure I’ll ever know. I don’t want to kill him, but I don’t want anyone else to kill him, either. I like the way he looks at me and the way he touches me. Braxton is not a man I ever thought I’d be attracted to in this way. I mean, I want him by my side permanently. I’d never even thought about permanency with someone until he reentered my life.

I make a quick detour to my car to tell the driver to leave. As usual, he’s reluctant, but this time, I take a chapter out of my father’s book. The most effective ways to motivate someone are by threatening them or bribing them. So I throw a thousand dollars in his lap and tell him to enjoy his evening.

Then I allow Braxton to lead me to his car. It’s stupid, really. Every step by his side is leading to the inevitable. But I can’t stay away. I don’twantto stay away. And I want answers just as much as he does.

We sit in silence as he drives us to his apartment. His callused hand holds mine, and I stare down at it, thinking about all the possibilities if we could have a future together. I don’t care about his financial situation; I can afford anything I want in this world. But the one thing I need more than I ever realized is to be understood. I need Braxton to see therealme, but it’s a gamble. It’s torture to love this man. My secret is right on the edge of my tongue, even when I’ve surrounded myself with so many lies.

I want Braxton to know I’m a killer, not just someone who finds inspiration in photos of dead bodies, but who actually craves the high and thrill of sending someone to the land of the dead.

Would he still hold my hand like this, or would he immediately put me behind bars?

When we pull up at his apartment building, Braxton’s gaze narrows, and I follow where he’s looking. His partner is standing out front, smoking a cigarette. It’s almost one in the morning, and visits around this time—unless from a lover—aren’t usually a good thing.

“Stay in the car,” Braxton grits as he undoes his seat belt.

“Am I a dog?” I reply indignantly. I might’ve come here willingly, but I won’t be told what to do.

“What?”

“Don’t tell me where to stay.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters as he gets out. If I know one thing about Braxton, it’s that he lives for the bite. I’m not sure why he expected me to stay in the car because that’s not going to happen. Sometimes, I despise when people think they need to protect me. I’m not helpless.

I don’t need protection. It’s actually other people who need protection from me.

On top of that, if he so boldly claims he wants more from me, then I will not be a secret in his world. I don’t exactly know how it would work, but he needs to prove to me he doesn’t expect me to hide in the shadows.

Because fuck all if I’m scared of a cop, especially one like Lucas.

The moment Lucas spots Braxton, he stomps out the cigarette and heads toward him. That is, of course, until Braxton opens the passenger door and offers me his hand to help me out. Lucas is stunned, frozen in place, as Braxton leads me over by the hand, a clear statement made.

“Are— Are you fucking kidding me?” Lucas fumbles for words.

“You shouldn’t litter,” I say matter-of-factly as I point to the cigarette he left behind on the ground.

“Who the fuck?—?”

Braxton stops in front of me, sizing up his partner. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Lucas’s eyes widen. “Oh my God. You’re in love with her.”

Braxton doesn’t deny nor confirm it. My heart flutters as I realize he’s taking a stand. For me.Withme. Against one of his most loyal colleagues.

“It’s late. Why don’t you come upstairs so we can quickly discuss this?” Braxton replies. “I know how this looks, but I’ll explain.”

Lucas’s mouth opens and closes, a flurry of rage rolling through him. I almost expect him to deny the offer, but then he splutters, “I-I’m not letting her come between us. There’s s-something you should know. I-I think she should leave.”

“She’s not leaving,” Braxton states.

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