Hate Fuck: part two (2 page)

“Don’t call me baby. And I don’t have anything because you guys tampered with a crime scene. And since I have
that
, it’s not nothing after all.”

“If that was the charge, you’d have arrested us all. Instead, one of your goons paraded Cole in front of the media—”

“I think your partner likes the cameras just fine. This morning’s stunt will bring you more clients hungry to cover up murders—”

“You should worry more about the wide-spread corruption and uniforms on the take than—”

“Than a woman’s murder? You’ve lost all perspective—”

I stand up, shoving my chair back hard enough it bounces off the desk behind me. “Enough!” I yell it, because seriously, these two need to find a fucking room. “Am I free to go?”

“We want to question you…” Kendra purses her lips. She’s killing time.

I brush past her and scoop up my belongings before I point to John Grant, our entirely respectable attorney standing a few feet behind Tag. “Contact my lawyer when you figure out what it is you want to ask me. I don’t suppose I can have my guns back?”

“Ha. We’re going to be running those ballistics through
all
the systems before you ever get them back.” She sighs. “Cole…” Frustration rolls off her. She wants the Assistant U.S. Attorney on duty to charge me with something—anything. But there’s nothing that will stick because I haven’t done anything wrong.

Today.

She sighs. “We used to be on the same side. If you guys tell me what happened, I’ll probably understand.”

Not a chance.

I nod at Tag. “Let’s go.”

Outside the station, we say a terse goodbye to John, who is, of course, unimpressed with my stunt. Once we’re alone in the car, Tag starts talking. “You need an alibi.”

I have one.
Not for the first time this morning, I worry about Hailey—what she’s seen, what she’s thinking. If she’s worrying about me. God, I don’t want that. But I’ve brought it on myself.
You knew you were going to hurt her. Bravo for being a fucking fortune teller
. I’m not going to use her again, hurt her again. Hailey won’t be how I get out of this, no matter what. “This’ll go away.”

“Kendra’s out for blood.”

“Not as much as the truth. We just need to find it for her.”

Tag’s phone beeps, and he glances at the screen. “Wilson’s got something.”

I nod, then pull out my own phone. I can’t really say anything, but I need to send her
something
. When I type in the password, her photo is on the screen. Just hours ago, and everything has turned upside down since.
Are you okay? I’m going to work now. I won’t be long. I’ll find you after that.
I can’t tell her it’s all going to be okay. I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.

We drive to the office in silence. It’s past breakfast time, I barely got two hours of sleep last night, and haven’t eaten yet. I insist on grabbing food in the lobby, and ignore Tag’s scowl. “Fuck you, I’m hungry.”

“Fuck you, I’m interested in getting you out of this jam as soon as humanly possible.”

“Your wife flashed me her tits just before you arrived.”

For that, I get the door whipped into my shoulder as we arrive on the third floor. I probably deserve it.

“I didn’t enjoy the view, if that’s your problem.”

He doesn’t answer me.

We find the other guys in the board room. Jason is pacing in front of the large screen on the far wall, every inch the patriotic warrior. Wilson’s sitting at the head of the conference table, scrolling through something on his laptop. He glances up as we enter, then presses a key, making the screen come to life.

It’s exactly what I expect to see—a black and white video of me, leaving Hailey’s apartment. Time-stamped ten minutes before four in the morning.
 

I don’t sit. “Turn that off. Where’s Fletcher?”

Jason turns around slowly, facing me across the center of the table. “He’s at home with his family, and one of Grant’s first year associates standing guard.” He points over his shoulder where my face is frozen on the screen, a clear shot because
yes
, I looked at the camera. I always do. It’s an unconscious move now, making sure I’m seen when I want to be, and not seen when I don’t want to be…
Fuck.
 

I’m a hypocrite, thinking in one breath that I won’t use Hailey as an alibi and yet obviously my sub-conscious has no problem. Too fucking bad. “No, we’re not using that.”

“That’s not your call.”

“Yes, it is.”

“As soon as the medical examiner determines time of death, this clears you.”

“That’s the wrong move.” I sift through the possibilities, weighing the risks and benefits. Hailey’s off-limits, but I’m not sure how that’s going to be received by my partners, knowing the lengths I’ll go to protect her. How much she means to me.

Jason narrows his eyes. “Is this about the girl?”

Anger thumps through my veins.
Yes
. I’ve exposed her to too much already. “No. Clearing my name too quickly could shift the focus to any one of you. Or Fletcher. Let’s never forget the client, right? I know I didn’t do it. And since I have a history with the victim, this is perfect.”

A soft gasp comes from behind me, a breathy sound filled with hurt and confusion that I’d recognize anywhere, anytime. I want to punch Jason for asking me that when he knew she was standing behind me. And I curse myself for not hearing her.
 

“Hailey…”

She shakes her head at me and takes a step back.

Fuck me
. I point back at Jason. “You’re a fucking asshole, and this conversation isn’t over. Don’t do anything with that video. It might clear me of murder, but it implicates me in tampering with a crime scene, since I picked up the gun. Silence is our best course of action while we find the motherfuckers who did this. That’s where we need to focus our energy.”

Hailey’s standing in front of the elevator by the time I finish yelling at my partner. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

She looks back at me over her shoulder, her body shaking but her voice clear and cold. “This was a mistake.”

“A
mistake
would be running away before we have a chance to talk. My office.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes narrow but she doesn’t resist when I slide my hand over her hip and guide her down the hall, my arm locked around her waist.

I feel reckless. Out of control.
Not scared
. No, I’m not scared of anything.

Except losing Hailey
.

I’d have to have her to lose her, and I’m not sure she’s mine.

Not sure that’s on the table—now, or ever. It shouldn’t be. I should push her away right now. I just don’t know if I can do that, either.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I have her in my arms, my hands in her hair. I kiss her hard, and she whimpers against me, her arms tightening around my neck as I consume her.

Her lips are faintly salty, like she’s been crying. That rips me up inside. I did this to her.

She kisses me back as we desperately hold on to each other. It’s a long time before we break apart. Her lips are swollen and wet. My chest aches. We’re a mess, and I’m more settled than I’ve been in hours. I never want to let her out of my arms.

“I’m glad you’re not in jail,” she whispers, hugging me tight for a second before pressing her hands against my chest.

I don’t let her go. “You shouldn’t be here,” I mutter against her lips. “Someone might see you.”

“I drove and parked underground. I needed to tell you that I’ll talk to the cops.”

“No.”

“Yeah, I heard you say that to the other guys.” Her body tightens inside my arms as she says it.

“You heard some shit out of context.”

She sighs. “I’m not sure there’s enough context to make me understand your life.”

What the fuck? “It’s not my
life
, it’s my job.”

Another sigh. She tips her forehead against my shoulder. “No, what
I
do is a job. Working at McDonald’s is a
job
. Leaving my bed in the middle of the night and getting arrested for murder…that has to be more than a job or you shouldn’t do it.”

That had been the wrong word choice, but I can’t explain the difference to her. I focus on what I can say. “I didn’t want to leave your bed.”
 

She tenses again, pressing her hands against my chest. Trying to push me way.
Not going to fucking happen
. I lean into her, over her, moving her back the few inches until she’s pressed against my door. I grab her hands and press her arms over her head. She glares up at me as I dip my head to kiss her again.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

She gapes at me for a moment. “I don’t know what to believe,” she finally says, her voice strangled.

Fuck.

I’m not going to hold her against the door—kiss her, fuck her, make her scream—if she doesn’t trust me.

I drop her hands and take a giant step back, my brain scrambling to catch up to the strange feelings coursing through me—possession and fear, yes, but also something else.

Something dangerous. Something I can’t name.

—
three—
 

Hailey

Cole steps back from me, his expression shuttered and his body tense.

I’ve made a misstep, I can sense it in the air.

I go for a flippant response, even though it feels wrong as I say it.

“You know, for someone who’s become famous for being able to talk rich people out of almost any kind of trouble, you’re not doing a good job of it for yourself.” I wave my hand at his face. “Pull your shit together, Cole.”

Like a cat, he moves fast and without warning. He grabs my waving wrist again, and we stand there. Me, in shock, him…I’m not sure. He takes another step back into my personal space, and his other hand slides around my hip, twisting me until my front is pressed against the door. It’s not a
slam
, per se, because it doesn’t hurt, but he’s holding me there. I suck in a breath and hold it, not sure what the hell is going on. I’m not
scared
, but I’m something. Full of feels, Alison would say.
 

“I’ll pull my shit together before we leave this office.” He spits the words out between gritted teeth, and it should be off-putting, this ridiculous testosterone dump. It
is
off-putting to my head. Much lower in my body, I’m consumed by a strange sensation to arch into him and make him feel better.
 

I start laughing at the absurdity of the notion that sex would help. He’d been
arrested
. Lawyers make that better, not fucking. I sigh and twist my head to catch his gaze. “What are you doing? Why did you drag me back here?”

“Stop talking, Hailey.” A thrill runs through me at the sound of my name on his tongue and the look in his eye. He loosens his grip, leaning his forearm on the door next to my head, his fingers just loosely circling my arm now. His thumb rubs back and forth over the pulse point on the inside of my wrist, making my skin tingle in a strangely soothing way. “I’m not doing anything.”

I let out the breath I was holding, and it rattles between us in a shaky exhale. “Then…maybe you should let me go.” I pull my hand free from his grasp and turn to face him. I press my palm against his chest. Even vibrating with tension, touching him feels good.
Right
. Even as I shove against him, pushing him out of my way, I relish the contact. He lets me shift him out of the way. “Whatever is on your mind…just say it.”

He turns his back to me, staring intently at something on his desk. “Now’s not the time.”

I glare at his rigid spine until my eyes burn, which doesn’t take long, then I glance down. There’s a big coffee stain on his carpet, I notice randomly. He should have that steam-cleaned.

Three deep breaths, and I look up. He’s turned back, and whatever that little outburst was all about seems locked down again. Maybe. Barely.

We stare at each other for a minute. I should tell him more. Tell him that I know he’s a good man, deep down, and that I trust him.

But I’m not sure I do. The fear inside me is a sharp, stabbing pain. It feels wrong to doubt him, but within hours of sleeping together, he dragged me perilously close to the edge of scandal.

Not on purpose. I close my eyes, not wanting to see how he clenches his jaw and guards his gaze as he takes in my silence.

From the second he saw me, I’ve known Cole is pissed I’m here. But then he kissed me, and for a second I thought it might work out somehow.

“I didn’t want to leave your bed,” he repeats his earlier statement, his voice rough and raw.

My eyes snap open. “But you did.”

“It’s what I do. I fix shit. Sometimes that means I leave in the middle of the night.”

“And get arrested?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

I shrug right back, my eyes narrowing because it’s totally a big deal. “Now I’m your alibi for last night, aren’t I?”

He snaps to his full height and glares at me. “Nobody needs to know that. I would
never
drag you into this shit.”

“You don’t think anyone’s going to find out you’re sleeping with Morgan Reid’s daughter? You think you’re the only team who can hack into digital data streams?” My voice lifts as I wave my arm over my head in Wilson’s general direction. “The cops—”

“Don’t have the budget for someone like Wilson. And nobody else cares.
We
care because we want to find out who killed Anabeth Fletcher.”

I close my eyes at the name of the poor woman who died.
 

“We weren’t…She and I…” he trails off, and I stare at him, incredulous.

“Seriously? She’s
dead
, Cole. I don’t care if you fucked her.”

His eyes flare at that. “Really? I’d care if I heard on the news that you were having a secret affair with someone. That’s the story that’s being spun, right?”

I can’t help it. My voice raises itself, and all of a sudden I’m yelling at him. “I’d never
have
a secret affair with someone, you asshole! I
date
people, and only one at a time. I don’t have
affairs
. I don’t do anything illicit, or dirty, or
wrong
.”