And I know that’s true. I do. But I can’t wrap my head around it so I shake myself a little and crank the engine.
And even though I don’t say anything to him, we both know I’m going to Hazel as soon as I can.
At the station, Eli ignores me completely. He throws himself into research while I fill the Chief in on what we learned and he turns it over in his head.
“Have you heard of Morningstar?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nope. That’s a new one for me. Eli has, though?”
I bite my nail, worrying it for a second while I try to sort through everything. There are too many dead bodies. Too many secrets. Too many things hidden.
I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to be chasing right now.
“Why did you think Eli could do something with the prostitutes?”
“Because he’s been working with them for months. He’s looking for someone down there and the girls know it. Knows he won’t trip them up.”
“Crystal was dating a boy who works for Morningstar,” I say. “So maybe whatever is going on with the prostitutes has something to do with what went on in that house.”
“It’s a stretch,” Billings says.
“I know but it’s all we’ve got for now.”
He gives me a brisk nod. “Chase it down and see what happens. See what shakes out.”
I nod and shove out my seat and go to where my brother is still bent over his research. His shoulders come up a little when I approach and I know he’s braced for my anger and a discussion he doesn’t want to have.
Scarlett and everything to do with her is always gonna be a discussion he doesn’t want to have.
“I’m going to see Hazel,” I say. “You still haven’t heard from Gabe, right?”
Eli shakes his head “No, nothing from him.”
Nothing from either of them.
I nod. “Okay, I’ll be back in a little bit.”
We both need space. I know it and so does he.
So Eli doesn’t protest as I scoop up the keys to the Roadrunner and head out the door.
He stays behind.
Who is he?” I asked my voice shaking.
Michael smiles “That’s not for me to tell you, Hazel. I’ve told you our story now I need you to tell stories that people listen to. I need you to tell her story.”
I shake my head, adamant, “You’re asking me to aid and abet a felon. You’re asking me to go against the law when my brother is the cop investigating you. I can’t do that, Michael.”
“You don’t understand. I’m not asking. I’m telling you that you are going to do this or I’m going to kill everyone you love. You’ve seen my work. You’ve seen what we can do.” He pauses, and he smiles coldly, “Are you going to tell the people a story or am I going to let John loose with his knife?”
“Come near my family and I’ll fucking kill you,” I spit.
“I don’t want to touch your family. Killing people is not what I want to do. It’s a bad side of my business but the fact is I will. Because I need you and this is the way I’m going to motivate you. The ball’s in your court, Hazel. What are you going to do?”
It’s not a question.
He knows it and so do I. I’m going to do exactly what he’s demanding.
Because I’m not willing to risk my family. And because it’s a story and I’ve spent six months chasing one—chasing this story. I can’t walk away from this even if I know that I should. “I need to talk to your sister,” I say and Michael smiles, quietly triumphant.
“You can come by the house tomorrow,” he says.
Behind me, John stirs the first time since this conversation began and Michael started telling me this story about his family and Hanna and everything that’s between them all. A story that I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around.
“Mike,” John snaps, “you can’t just leave her here like this. She knows too much. She’ll tell the damn cops.”
Michael stares at him for a long minute before he smiles, “No, she won’t,” he says. His voice is musing but it turns a little sharper. “I can’t touch your brothers or Nora right now. Not without bringing more heat on us than I can handle at the moment. But Gabriel,” his voice trails off into a lilting question and his smile is dark and devilish.
My stomach drops and twists and I’m shaking suddenly.
“What did you do?” I demand.
Even John looks startled as Michael produces a cell phone. And there he is in bright shiny color, blood on his face. Hands bound in front of him and a gag shoved in his mouth. Still, for all that he has a gun to his head and he’s on his knees, bloody and beaten, my best friend looks fucking furious.
And that helps some.
Knowing that even though he’s in danger, he isn’t broken.
“If,” Michael says, “I see a cop anywhere near me or John between now and tomorrow when you talk to my sister, I’ll kill him.”
“You know I have to see them. My brother and Archer. They’re not going to leave me alone, especially with a murder scene this close to my house.”
Michael nods, “I expect that. They’re good brothers, after all.”
And my stomach twists. What did they think was happening between me and Archer and Eli? Does he think—I shake my head. What I have, this fragile blooming thing between us, it’s nothing like Hanna and John and Michael, blood relations and siblings in every sense of the word.
I refuse to compare the two.
“See your brothers,” Michael says casually. “Just lie to them. You can keep a secret, Hazel. It’s only for one day and then you can tell my sister’s story and it will be all over.”
I nod once because I have no choices here and he knows it.
He stands and finish the last sip of his coffee and smiles at me as he shrugs into his bloody coat. “It’s good seeing you again, Hazel,” he says, as if we ran into each other at the park or the grocery store. My stomach twists, as I remember seeing him in the park and what he said there.
“I told you we should catch up. It’s good to talk things out. To tell each other what’s been happening over the years. I’m glad we did this.”
He gives me a smile and behind me John shifts again, anxious and impatient.
“Mike, we’ve got to go,” he says.
Michael nods and steps past me. “Keep your phone on,” he says.
And then the doors open and they step out before it closes again and I am alone.
For a moment I sit still and quiet, waiting for them to come back.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And then I’m shaking and a scream is building in my throat. I slap a hand over my mouth, biting down hard and only a whimper escapes. Tiny broken noises as all of the fear and anger flood out of me in one near silent scream.
I don’t know how long I stay like that, curled in my chair at the kitchen table, a cup of cold coffee in front of me and Michael’s empty cup across from me. But eventually I realize that I’m filthy. Or maybe I just feel filthy.
I stumble to my feet and almost run from the room stripping out of my dirty clothes as I go. Smith paces at my side, whining, and I’ve pat his ears affectionately, distracted, as I turn on the water to the shower as hot as it will go.
It’s only when I’m under the spray, my hair dripping in my face, that the shaking finally stops and I can breathe and think again.
Eventually I emerge from the shower. Mostly because I can’t hide there forever.
I get dressed in black yoga pants and a tank top and then I wander through the house, cleaning up.
Pick up the messy blankets the boys left on my couch. Toss aside the beer cans and the empty bottles of whiskey. Pile all the dirty dishes in the sink and set them to soak. Archer and Eli both left bloody clothes in my bathrooms and I gather them up before I dump them in the washing machine with stain remover, detergent, and fabric softener. Of course I’m still doing their laundry. Some thing’s I think will never change.
Still it makes me feel useful and right now, I need that.
I’m only a little surprised when I hear the Roadrunner pulling up outside. The heavy rumble that shakes the wood underneath my feet.
I hook my wet hair behind my ears and pad silently to the kitchen. Archer is coming up the stairs by himself. And that alone is enough to make my heart try to jump out of my chest. Never mind that I have had someone threaten me today or that my best friend is being held hostage for my good behavior.
Never mind that he’s a cop and exactly who I shouldn’t be seeing right now.
Never mind that everything between us is up in the air and so complicated that I can’t breathe.
I see him alone standing on my porch, staring at me with those forest green eyes and I want him.
It’s the thing that I haven’t really let myself admit.
I want Brandon Archer.
Good, bad, dirty, all of the things in between I want all of it. I want all of the him. My mouth goes dry and I can’t say anything at all as I push the door open and let him in.
I’ve spent most of my life keeping secrets. Some are little and some are not. Some are harmless, some would devastate everything.
And then there are other secrets. The ones that wouldn’t just devastate—they would destroy.
The thing about secrets is no matter how you deal with them, someone will be hurt when they come to light. And they always do.
That’s the other thing I’ve learned.
I remember the first time someone broke my trust. I was in first grade and my best friend came to my house. I told her about the chocolate that my mother hid in our library and how sometimes when I was really upset with her, I would steal a piece. Later, she got mad at me, my friend, and she ran to my mother and told her that I was stealing chocolate.
Mama didn’t so much care as I was upset with my friend.
The nature of secrets is to be told. Spread. Broken. To be spilled over and shared.
To slice into and break apart.
Four years ago, I slept with my best friend. The boy who had kept my secrets and held my heart. And then I ran away. The truth was—the secret that I hid was—I was going to leave before that night ever happened.
It only happened because I was leaving.
Being in Green County with Archer without being with Archer hurt too much for me to stay.
Running away was the best and worst decision I’ve ever made.
But now I’m home again and secrets are spilling over and piling up and begging to be told, begging to be shared.
It is the nature of secrets to not remain. To find their way the truth. And that terrifies me.
Archer steps inside my house and I fall back a step to let him.
“I thought you’d be too busy to come bother me,” I say crisply, falling back on snark and sarcasm.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” he says, glancing at where it’s sitting on the kitchen table. His eyes narrow. “Did you have company?”
I blink. His voice a little bit annoyed. I glanced over the table and realize that Michael’s coffee cup is still sitting across from mine.
It’s the nature of secrets to come to light.
“No, I woke up in the middle of the night, ended up with two cups. I forgot that I had made one. It doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?” I ask as I scoop both cups off the table and dump them in the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes.
Then focus on the way he’s frowning at me like he doesn’t quite believe me and doesn’t know if he should push.
“Do you remember Scarlett?” he asks.
I frown. “No. Who is she?”
He blows out of breath, frustrated, “A couple years ago, while you were gone, Eli got into some trouble. Scarlett had a lot to do with it.”
“What kind of trouble?” I demand.
Archer shifts, uneasy. “The kind that included rehab and a six month vacation from the force.”
“What the actual fuck? Why the hell would you keep this from me?” I shout, jerking away from the dirty dishes, my mind racing.
Eli was on drugs?
“You were happy in Boston.” Archer says, patiently. “I wasn’t going to fuck that up telling you your brother had a drug addiction and a bitch with her hooks in him. I took care of it. I took care of Eli. Took care of all of them.”
“Taking care of Eli includes me,” I protest. “It always included me. We take care of both of them together.”
“Yeah, well. You left. You left so I had to take care of them by myself and I did the best that I could.”
“Wow,” I say and I give him a fake smile, “Tell me how you really feel, then.”
“Why don’t you tell me,” he snaps, “why the hell you decided that you should sleep with me and then run away for four fucking years?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t want to have this conversation,” I say.
“And we can we only do things on your timetable,” he says, bitter. Frowning, he shakes his head, “Fine. I’ll play your game. But I need your help.”
“With what?” I ask, nerves in my belly. I’m used to seeing a lot of things, but Archer angry…I don’t know what to make of this.
Of him.
He’s never pushed me. Not when it comes to us. If there is an us.
“I need to know everything you know or can find out about Morningstar. You’re a journalist. You can dig deeper than I can, go places that legally, I can’t. He’s connected to this and I need to know how.”
Of course. Of course, he needs to know. Now that I have Michael and John breathing down my neck and Gabriel—. I shake my head. I shut the thought down before it can cross my face and clue Archer in.
“Okay. Give me everything you’ve got and I’ll see what I can find out. I can’t make any promises you know that.”
“Yeah. I get it. Just do your best—that’s all I need, okay?”
“Hey where’s Eli?” I ask, belated, my voice all fake happy.
“He’s at the station doing some research.” Archer goes quiet, and then, “Have you heard from Gabe today?”
I nod. “Yes, he was in meetings with clients all day. If you don’t hear from him, it’s nothing to worry about.”
Archer starts to turn away. It’s the nature of secrets to be shared.
“I left because it hurt too much to stay.”
He goes still, the kind of waiting, watchful stillness that makes me nervous. And makes want burn hot and heavy in my gut.
“What did?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head, helpless, because I can’t answer that question.
Archer curses sharply under his breath and then crowds me against the kitchen counter.
“Stop hiding from me Hazel,” he snarls.
So I take the leap. I say, “It hurt too much to be around you. I couldn’t just stay here and watch you work your way through all the women in the fucking County. While you came to me and told me your secrets. I was the girl who held you together but never the girl that you wanted. I couldn’t do it. I had to leave.”
He’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before.“ Hazel,” he says stunned, “What are you talking about? It was never like that. That’s not what we were.”
“That’s always what we were. We saw each other’s worst sides, Archer, and because we did we could show everyone else the best. I got to see both sides of you—the good and the bad. You know all those girls who fell into your bed love you because of every good thing about you. I hated it then. That’s my secret, my Brutally Honest. I fucking hate it there because they didn’t know you. They knew the best sides of you but they didn’t know everything. And I couldn’t stay here and watch you with them. So I left.”
“Why haven’t you said something? Why did you run away for four years instead of talking to me?” He sounds so hurt and betrayed, it twists my heart up a little.
“What did you want me to say? Okay, I know we can’t be together cuz you know, al
l the reasons, but I’m in love with you—” I freeze and he makes a noise like a wounded animal.
“Hazel,” he almost groans and then he’s on me, his lips on mine and I am lost, completely drowning.
The thing that’s always saved me. I’m drowning in it now.
His hands are in my hair, fingers digging in and holding me where he wants as he kisses me, soft and sweet and slow. Until I snarl against him because it’s been fucking four years and we’re finally alone, without Eli five feet away sleeping, and I’m tired of wanting when he’s so fucking close. I snarl and my hands, on his shoulders, curl into him, nails digging into his broad shoulders and he hisses, breaking away from my lips as he groans.
He likes that, the bite of pain.
“Don’t tease,” I murmur against his lips and he groans.
“No teasing, baby girl. Just us.” he kisses me again, these deep long licks that have me clinging to him and my body reeling. I want more. I want everything.
I don’t get to keep him. I don’t get to keep this but I want it anyway.
He kisses me, and I whimper as he does, and he takes my soft noises, swallowing down my little whimpers, his hands closing around my hips, holding me still and close. He holds me like I’m fragile and precious and like he can’t get me close enough, like he wants to press me into his body, until we’re not Archer and Hazel, and separate.
And with his hands on me like that, his lips eating up every noise I make and the sweet taste of him on my lips, I can almost let myself think this means as much to him as it does to me.
“Hey,” he whispers, pulling away a little. “I’m losing you, pretty girl. Stay with me, huh?”
Tears sting my eyes and I lean into him, pressing open mouth kisses to his throat while I shove my emotions down. I scrape my teeth over his skin and he shivers, just a little.
“Bedroom,” he mutters and I freeze.
The one time we had sex, it was in my bedroom, wrapped in darkness and moonlight and so damn intimate and real it almost broke me.
There is a very real fear that it will, if I take him there again.
So I whisper, “too far,” and jerk away from him. Strip out of my tank top and sprawl across the couch and it’s a dirty trick but it does the job.
Dirty Sexy Secret (Green County Book 1) Page 11