Hate F*@k: The Complete Story

by Ainsley Booth

  “No, thank you.” I watch her for a moment. My age, probably, maybe a year or two older. Pretty. Capable. Does she know she works for soulless bastards? “I’ll just wait here.”

  “Okay.” She offers me a quiet smile and picks up the phone.

  Twenty minutes later, Jason walks in from the stairwell. He looks intent, busy. Uncharacteristically dressed-down in jeans and a black t-shirt, and I realize that he too probably got out of bed in the middle of the night.

  “Hailey!” His voice is friendly and welcoming, but his gaze is hard and flat.

  My pulse flutters in my neck, and I’m not sure I can actually form words. Maybe this is a mistake. “Where’s Cole?”

  He pulls his brows together.

  “Maybe we should go up to my office,” he says, pointing to the third floor.

  Upstairs, there’s a large conference room in the middle, across from the elevators, and offices are at the front and back of the building. Jason’s is at the front, looking down at the main entrance. I walk to the window. What looks like the entire Washington press corps is now amassed out front.

  Jason doesn’t bother to follow my gaze before saying dismissively, “More of them followed me here.”

  “I got in the back entrance no problem,” My voice trembles, and it’s so quiet I’m not sure he can even hear me.

  “We’ll make sure you get out without being noticed, one way or another.” When I turn around, he’s still standing beside his desk. He waits until I settle in the chair opposite before he sits down himself. “You saw the news today?”

  “I did. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Cole didn’t kill that woman. He arrived at the Fletcher house after I did.”

  “I know. He…he was with me before that.”

  Jason’s dark eyes turn black as I speak, sending icy cold fear down my spine. But when he speaks, his words surprise me. “I’m sorry.”

  I wait for more. He doesn’t give it, and I don’t know what to say. What is he sorry for? He didn’t do anything. If anyone needs to be sorry, it’s Cole, but even then…he’s never hidden who he is. I went into last night with my eyes wide open. A meaningless fuck with a bad boy.

  Obviously, that’s exactly what I got.

  If I’m a suck who can’t handle that, it’s on me.

  “I’m prepared to make a statement to the police.” My entire body is shaking now, but it’s the right thing to do. “I’d prefer to do it as discretely as possible, of course, but—”

  Jason stands suddenly and I cut myself off. He starts pacing as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

  “I mean, the discretion isn’t as important as clearing Cole’s name,” I continue, my mouth dry. I remember the bottle of water Ellie pressed into my hands and I twist off the cap. “It’s just…”

  “You don’t need to do this,” Jason says, now staring out the window. His voice is strong and clear, showing none of the nerves rioting through my body. “If it’s too much of a bother.”

  “Excuse me?” I push myself to a stand. “It’s not a bother. It’s the right thing to do. But I have a right to try and protect myself.” Someone has to. Cole certainly didn’t think about me before walking into the middle of a crime scene and making himself the prime suspect.

  Jason shrugs, and white hot rage replaces the nerves inside me. I cast about for the right words, but none come. I don’t understand what it is we’re doing here, and as mad as I am at Cole, I wonder if anyone here has his back.

  After a beat, Jason turns around, his t-shirt pulling against his straining biceps. Even at rest, he’s a pit bull. Where Cole is big in a safe, protective way, Jason is scary looking. The pissed-off look on his face doesn’t help.

  “Maybe it would be best if you leave before he gets here.”

  “He’s coming here?” I squeeze my hands together, distracted by the thought that Cole is, at least temporarily, free. “So…what does that mean?”

  Another shrug. I really hate Jason’s shoulders right now. “Tag and our lawyer are at the station now. He hasn’t been taken to central booking, as far as I know. He might not be charged with anything today.”

  I don’t understand. Hasn’t he been arrested?

  “All of this is beyond me, and I don’t get why you’re mad at me, when I haven’t done anything, but if I can move that might to a definitely won’t be, I want to help.”

  Jason opens his mouth and pauses before saying something obviously different from his first thought. “Look, you don’t need to worry about Cole. He’s a big boy.”

  Fuck that noise.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I see him.” I sit down and pull out my phone.

  It’s a long, silent minute before Jason grunts. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  —two—

  Cole

  Jail would be better than sitting across a desk from Detective Kendra Browning in the middle of the precinct like I’ve been brought to heel.

  A Russian gulag might be better. Kendra makes my nuts want to crawl back into my body for protection.

  Sure, she’s beautiful. Smart. One of the good guys.

  The problem is, I am not.

  “Mr. Parker, you need to answer my questions.”

  I only want one woman calling me Mr. Parker, and it’s not Kendra. I stare back at her, confident in my Miranda-protected right to shut the fuck up. Being under arrest is a pain in my ass. And she won’t even put me in an interrogation room so I can demand my lawyer and be left alone.

  I’ve been here for an hour, after being transferred from another precinct. I’m not sure why Major Case wasn’t involved from the start, and I don’t really care. I just need to hang tight until one of my partners shows up with a lawyer, then I can go and find the asshole who killed Anabeth Fletcher.

  If it’s my client, that’s going to be awkward, but I don’t think it is. We only had just over an hour with him before the police showed up—presumably called by someone who knew there was a dead body in the house.

  Someone responsible for that death.

  The entire time we were there, he was in shock. Real shock, not an act.

  That’ll happen when you don’t remember falling asleep, then wake up in your den, a gun in your hand and a dead wife upstairs in your bed.

  As soon as we all got there, we knew something didn’t add up—right now, Wilson is getting a private lab to run Fletcher’s blood, find out if he was drugged. The scotch he swears he was drinking before he fell asleep is gone—the decanter, the tumblers, the original bottle in the bar. Vanished.

  So when the cops showed up, I made a gut decision to complicate the scene. I picked up the gun. Maybe it was the wrong call, but it means my client’s not in a cell right now.

  And all of that is none of Kendra’s business, because whatever is going on here is way over the pay grade of a DC cop. She couldn’t unravel this even if she believed me, and she wouldn’t, because she thinks I’m as crazy as her ex-husband.

  When she sighs and looks back at her computer, I reach for my pocket out of reflex. But everything—my keys, my phone, my wallet—is currently on a tray on her desk.

  She notices me eyeing my phone, because I didn’t hide it. She picks it up and twirls it slowly between her fingers.

  “Drop it and I’ll send the department a bill for a new one. Actually, I’ve been meaning to upgrade, so go the fuck ahead.”

  “So you do speak, after all.” She leans in, flashing just a bit of cleavage, which doesn’t work—even if I weren’t mad as hell at how this has gone down, she’s not Hailey. And Kendra’s not available, either. Not really.

  Her tits are nice, though, and so is the try, so I give her the slow, appraising look she wanted. Then I close my eyes and tip my head back against the chair.

  “Who have you been texting, Cole? Mind if I have a look?”

  “Get a warrant, Detective. It’s got a password on it for a reason.”

  Her laugh turns to a sigh as heavy footsteps sound behind me.<
br />
  “Oh great, the cavalry’s arrived.” She pushes back from the desk, shoving it against my arm in the process. I don’t react. “Who let this guy past the desk sergeant?”

  I recognize the hard-edged laugh as belonging to one of my business partners, Tag Browning. Kendra’s ex-husband. “Time to let him go, baby. You don’t have anything.”

  “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.”