Baited Truth

by Hype, Jenn

  Contents

  Chapter One - You Don't Know Me

  Chapter Two - Bust A (Knee) Cap

  Chapter Three - Who Dat Is?

  Chapter Four - Gimme A Gun

  Chapter Five - All Tied Up

  Chapter Six - The Dream Team

  Chapter Seven - Can I Get A Little Privacy

  Chapter Eight - Temptation In A Towel

  Chapter Nine - Tag, You're It

  Chapter Ten - You Used To Call Me On My Cellphone

  Chapter Eleven - Hit The Road, Jack

  Chapter Twelve - Get Away, Getaway

  Chapter Thirteen - Pillow Talk

  Chapter Fourteen - Early To The Party

  Chapter Fifteen - Don't Sweat It

  Chapter Sixteen - Crash and Burn

  Chapter Seventeen - Scarface Returns

  Chapter Eighteen - Search Party Of Five

  Chapter Nineteen - I Got Mind Control Over Deebo

  Chapter Twenty - Here Comes The Cavalry

  Chapter Twenty-One - See, What Had Happened Was

  Chapter One

  You Don't Know Me

  Brooke

  "Here I am."

  The dim lighting in the bar cast shadows across the face of the man sidling up next to me. I turned to look at him, assuming he was talking to someone else. When I saw he was staring directly at me, I moved my body to fully face him. He didn't look too drunk, but since I didn't know him and hadn't planned to meet anyone there, he was obviously mistaking me for someone else.

  "Sorry, I-"

  "What are your other two wishes?"

  O-kaaaay. Maybe he was drunker than I realized.

  "Something's wrong with my eyes."

  "Ummmm..." I honestly wasn't sure what to do. Dispelling advances and turning down men wasn't difficult, but until he started making sense, I wasn't even sure how to respond. Not that I was opposed to just being a giant bitch and walking away while he was talking, but he'd caught me so off-guard I was having a hard time figuring out a reaction.

  "I can't take them off of you."

  "Right, well. It's been real. See ya around." I didn't make it one step before he spoke up again.

  "You're so sweet."

  The guy must have been off his meds.

  "Listen. You seem like-"

  "It's giving me a toothache."

  Ahhh. Pickup lines. The giant pauses in between each line was confusing. It only made the already cheesy lines even worse with the horrible execution. Knowing he wasn't insane, just a horrible flirt, I finally walked away from him, not bothering to stop as he called after me.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket just as I reached the other end of the bar. I answered without looking at the caller ID, thankful for a distraction.

  "Brooke, sweetie, where are you?"

  It was hard to hear over the loud music, so I plugged one ear and tried to make out what my mom was saying. It was only a little after nine at night, but she still never called me this late.

  "Mom? Is everything okay?"

  "Yes, of course, everything is fine. Just hadn't talked to you in a few days and wanted to check in."

  I'd just talked to her earlier in the day. Was she drunk? No, of course not. My mom didn't drink. Maybe I just misheard her.

  "Okay. Are you sure? Because I just talked to you-"

  "Like I said, just checking in. Where are you dear?"

  Mom never called me dear. Even with the loud music I could tell it was her voice, but something definitely sounded off about her. The way she was talking, not making any sense, using words I'd never heard come out of her mouth before. All of it was giving me a bad feeling. I made my way towards the bathrooms where it was quieter.

  "I'm at that new bar downtown, but I'm coming to you, mom. It's only like a five minute drive to your house and I haven't even finished a drink. You don't sound right, and-"

  "No!" She shouted before speaking again with a forced calmness. "I mean, no dear, no need for that. I'm perfectly fine."

  I didn't believe her. Not even a little bit. The music was still thumping through the walls, but inside the restroom I could hear the shakiness in her voice. Filled with foreboding, I pushed the bathroom door open and headed for the exit.

  "It's fine, mom. I was bored and about to head out anyway. I'll grab us a couple smoothies and we can watch one of those dreadful girly movies you love so much."

  "Brooke Lynn Jackson!" Mom shouting my full name made me feel like I was five again, despite my very adult surroundings. I hated my full name. Mom always blamed the drugs and sleep deprivation from a twenty-nine hour delivery for my ridiculous name. Brooke Lynn. Seriously. Someone should have stopped her.

  Someone plowed into me from behind. When she yelled my name, I'd stopped dead in my tracks, not even taking note of the people around me. After muttering an apology, I stepped out of the way. The girl who had slammed into me rolled her bloodshot eyes as she pushed out the door. I hoped she called an Uber or something. She kept rolling her ankles in her high heels that could double as stripper shoes. No way she could drive home.

  The cold air whipped me in the face as the heavy door slammed shut.

  "Honey, just stay and enjoy yourself. I'm pretty tired from work and planned to go to bed early anyway. Raincheck?"

  Okay, she was seriously starting to freak me out. Honey? Dear? Planning to go to bed early? Mom didn't talk like that, and she worked second shift. Before I could force her to fess up, she spoke again.

  "Remember to be safe, K?"

  The line went dead. What the hell was that?

  I reclaimed my spot at the bar, pushing aside the drink I'd left sitting there when mom called. No way was I drinking it after it sat unattended. Besides, I still planned to head to mom's. Despite her weird reassurances, I could sense something being off. After I settled my tab, I would head out and make sure nothing wonky was going on at home.

  The bartender approached me, but before I could ask to close my tab, he handed me a drink. "From the guy at the end of the bar," he said with a nod in that direction.

  I shook my head and pushed it back towards the bartender. "Tell him thanks, but no thanks. I need to settle up and head out."

  With another nod he walked away, drink in hand, and I watched as he gave it to the guy who'd ordered it. It was some pink fruity concoction that I would never in a million years drink anyway. The guy obviously hadn't bothered to figure out what I'd been drinking and had assumed I would want some cliched girly nonsense. He glanced at me when the bartender handed him the drink and the message, but he didn't take the hint. Instead he grabbed both it and his own drink and made his way towards me.

  I had to bite back a groan. The bartender smiled teasingly at me. He must have seen the frustration on my face. I didn't have time for niceties. If the guy couldn't take a hint, I'd give it to him straight. As soon as he was within earshot, I made it clear he didn't have a shot.

  "Not interested. At all. I'm actually leaving, and that frou-frou looking drink isn't something I would ever drink anyway, so find another unsuspecting woman to give it to."

  Signing the receipt and slipping my card back into my purse, I pushed past him without a second glance. Which was my first mistake. I didn't see it coming, and when his hand latched around my arm and tugged, I stumbled backwards. It didn't hurt enough to leave a mark, but it was definitely more forceful than necessary. I expected to see an apology in his eyes when I looked up at him, but instead was met with ones so cold, dark and ominous that I shivered involuntarily.

  "Stay for a drink, Brooke. I insist."

  The shock of him knowing my name took a backseat to the creepy way he said it. Out of my periphery I saw the bartender watching. He looked concerned and ready to intervene at any second. While I appreciated it, it wasn't
necessary. I could take care of myself.

  Yanking my arm out of the grip of the cold, clammy hand clutching it, I took in the stranger who knew my name. He was dressed casually, but it looked forced. Expensive jeans and a black henley fit his form well, but he looked uncomfortable in them. Whether it was because he felt dressed up or down, I wasn't sure, but it was clear he was out of his comfort zone.

  In the dim light of the bar he almost seemed attractive, but my eye caught a scar along the ridge of his jaw. It was the same color as his skin, so it would be easy to miss, but the jagged, puffy angles of the scar tissue still stood out. A quick scan of the rest of his face showed another similar scar on his forehead near his hairline. His hair was gelled and styled nicely, but it went past his ears and too far down his neck, like he'd missed a few haircuts. There was also a dark spot near his left ear that looked like hair dye. Made sense, because that midnight black color didn't look right at all with his complexion and features.

  He reached for my arm again, and this time I let him take it. I took note of his battered knuckles, cracked and scabbed in places. Fingernails slightly too long with a ring of dirt underneath them.

  Every detail I took in told me he was bad news. The smart thing to do would be to get the hell out of there. As if sensing my thoughts, his grip on my arm tightened. He wasn't going to let me go easily. Lucky for him, I never shied away from danger. I wanted to know how he knew me, and why the hell he thought it was okay to put his hands on me.

  "One drink," I offered.

  Thin lips curled into a smile that bordered on a snarl. Why did I get the feeling he would have preferred I put up a fight?

  "What'll you have then, Brooke?"

  I heard his accent then. It was faint and I couldn't make out what it was exactly, but it was definitely there. When I looked up at him, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo behind his ear. He turned his head before I could see it completely, but it looked like it might have been a dinosaur. Weird.

  The bartender eyed me warily while handing me another bottle of beer. Weird Tattoo Guy still hadn't let go of my arm, and his hand clamped down around it was starting to piss me off. I figured I had a better chance of getting answers out of him though if I played along. For now.

  "So, how do you know my name, oh mysterious one?"

  He smirked, but not in a flirty way. It was like he was trying way too hard to be friendly when what he really wanted to do was strangle me.

  "I know your parents."

  Parents. Plural. Funny, since I didn't even know my dad. He didn't seem to know that, though, so I played along.

  "Oh really? How did you meet?"

  He rubbed his chin with his free hand, seeming to think it over before answering. "We go so far back, it's hard to remember exactly how we met."

  "Hmmm," I hummed as I pretended to take a sip of my beer. Something told me he wasn't actually lying about that part. He knew them somehow. Unfortunately, that just made me want to get away from him even more. I didn't know a damn thing about my dad, and didn't care to. Whatever he might inadvertently tell me was more information than I wanted.

  He was watching my mouth when I pulled the bottle away from it. Not in the way a guy does when he's thinking about kissing you. His eyes flickered to the bottle in my hand and back up to my lips.

  The asshole drugged my drink. I didn't know how or when since I'd been standing right there the whole time, but I'd bet my life that he had. Good thing I only pretended to drink it. I only did that because I planned to drive to my mom's as soon as I got away from him and didn't want any more alcohol in me, but it worked out. The nerve of this guy. Whatever his intentions were in approaching me, they obviously weren't genuine. I needed to get out of there. Fast.

  "I need to use the ladies room. Could you watch my drink for me? Make sure nothing happens to it?"

  I may have overdone it with the sweet girl act, but he didn't seem to notice. He let go of my arm and grabbed my drink as if to show he would keep an eye on it. I knew he would follow me, and I could feel his eyes on my back the with each step I took. Discreetly, I pulled my purse in front of me so he couldn't see me pull out the mace I carried around. It was the heavy duty stuff that would get me in a ton of trouble if I ever got caught carrying it around, but who cares. If it saved my life just one time, it was worth the risk.

  Just as I predicted, as soon as I got to the hallway leading to the bathroom, he came up behind me. I knew without turning around that it was him. His cologne was strong enough to take down a baby elephant.

  Luckily, no one else was around. I didn't want other people to get hurt in the crossfire, and the mace would affect anyone within a several feet of us.

  I pushed the door to the ladies room open, but instead of walking in, I turned around and sprayed. With my eyes squeezed shut and my hand covering my nose and mouth, I had no idea if I'd gotten a direct shot, but I heard him yell out. With eyes still closed, I reached out and grabbed his shirt and pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. I heard a thud and knew he'd hit the floor.

  Hands outstretched, I navigated my way blindly through the crowd until I got a safe distance away. My eyes still burned and watered, but it was tolerable. Not anything close to the kind of pain he would be in for the next day or so. It wouldn't completely debilitate him though, and if he had friends at the bar that I didn't know about, they would be coming after me as soon as they found out what happened.

  I plowed my way through the crowd which had grown more dense since I'd first arrived. People yelled and glared at me, but I didn't care. Soon I was out the door and running for my car. Because I'd arrived early, I was only about a block away from the bar.

  When someone yelled my name from behind me, I kicked off the stupid heels I'd worn and sprinted faster. As soon as I hit the lock button from inside my car, the man from inside the bar yanked on my door handle. His fists pounded the window. I didn't waste any time gunning it.

  I pulled away from the curb without looking, ignoring the car horns blaring at me. Glancing into the rearview mirror I saw the stranger pull a gun from the back of his pants and aim directly at me.

  Multiple gunshots rang out. None of them hit my car. Not surprising, considering when I saw his eyes as he was pounding on my window they were bright red and watering so badly he had tears running down his cheeks. At least I knew he wouldn't follow me. No way could he drive in that condition.

  After I checked on mom I would go to the police and file a report. Before anything else, I needed to know she was okay. That my getting attacked right after getting a strange phone call from her was just a coincidence.

  Yet, as much as I wished for it to just be paranoia making me link the two events together, I doubted it was. My intuition had never failed me. From a young age, Officer Knowles made sure I trusted it, and it had yet to fail me. Officer K had been big on instincts and trusting your gut.

  Officer K.

  Something mom said came back to me with a punch to the gut.

  "Remember to be safe, k?"

  Officer K had practically helped raise me until I went to college. Having retired early from the force due to an injury, he spent most of his days teaching me self-defense, hand to hand combat and how to take care of a gun. Once I was old enough for mom to feel comfortable, he taught me how to shoot. We spent hours at the range, and by the time I was old enough for a gun permit, I was an expert shot.

  I considered joining the force and following in Officer K's footsteps, but I'd never been great at obeying orders. Instead, I joined a private investigative firm where I'd been working since graduating from college. I didn't get nearly the action I would have liked, but my boss pretty much stayed out of my way and let me do my job, so it was worth it. Plus, no frumpy uniforms. I'm no girly-girl, but I like to have a good range of motion. How cops move around in those uniforms with all that crap attached to them is a mystery to me. Much easier to kick ass if I'm in jeans and my favorite pair of Chuck Taylors.

  Being able to easily
defend myself was something Officer K had started drilling into my head before I could even walk. Remember to be safe was something he said to me almost every time I left the apartment building I grew up in. How did I not put two and two together? She even said 'K' just to drive home her point, and I was too distracted to realize what she was saying.

  I pulled up to the curb in front of mom's house, and saw the front door was slightly ajar.

  Then I heard a scream.

  Chapter Two

  Bust A (Knee) Cap

  Brooke

  Pain was the only thing that could make someone cry like that. What was worse? Those cries belonged to my mom.

  I pounded my fist on the glove box, popping it open and grabbing my pink revolver. Officer K would have given me so much shit over buying a pink gun, which is why I bought it. Giving each other a hard time was regular for us, so buying the thing felt like I was paying tribute to his memory.

  Leaving my car running on the street and the door wide open, I leapt out and ran to the door, barefoot and heart pounding out of my chest. The ranch-style house my mom had been so proud of buying a few years ago, the first home she'd ever owned, was completely trashed.

  I stupidly left my phone in my car, so I couldn't call 911. Tempted to run back out and get it, I stopped when I heard a scream come from the back of the house. The house was only one story, but it was over three thousand square feet with high ceilings. The sound of another cry echoed all around me.

  Screw it. By the time the police got there, it could be too late.

  "Your little bitch daughter just signed her own death warrant."

  The angry words, followed by a loud smacking sound, halted me right before I rounded the corner to the kitchen. I peeked around the corner and saw an exceptionally large man gripping my mom by her hair as she sat on the kitchen floor, her hands behind her back. There could have been twenty other guys in the room, but all my attention was on my mom's face, contorted in pain. It wasn't until he smacked her that she cried out again, but even then, you could tell she was holding back. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.