Tell Me a Truth: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Coralee June

  “I don’t want to talk about—”

  “Something’s wrong,” he huffed out. The angry haze clouding my brain started to fade and was quickly replaced with anxiety as I looked at him. Max looked terrified, and every damn alarm in my head started going off.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as the toxic thoughts in my head reminded me that he was probably more qualified to help her.

  “She got a weird call about her dad, then disappeared. I think something’s wrong, and even though it seriously pisses me off to have to come to you, I think we need to find her before something bad happens or she does something reckless.”

  “What did the caller say?” I asked.

  “She kept asking what they’d done with her dad. She mentioned something about only being a waitress, then ran off spouting some shit that it was safer if I didn’t know.”

  Fuck. I quickly picked up my cell phone and dialed Lance’s number. He answered on the second ring as Maximillian hovered over me. “Hey, have you spoken with Blakely?” I greeted him with an immediate question.

  “No? Is she skipping class again?” Lance asked with a light chuckle. “She’s been needing a break. You’ve really got to stop meddling. If I were concerned, I’d say something.”

  I ground my teeth before responding. I wanted to tell him that I had every right to meddle. He couldn’t hoard her anymore. “A student just informed me that Blakely got a call about her father and ran out of the school. Apparently, she was really freaked out,” I explained. I was orbiting the black hole in my heart with trepidation.

  “Fuck!” Lance yelled. “I’m in Louisiana, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Please tell me you put a tracker on her phone,” I gritted while gathering my things. Max was watching me move while gripping his backpack. I could tell he felt lost and out of the loop.

  “I did,” Lance answered. “I also have one in her car. I’m going to call the detective assigned to Frank’s case.”

  “Good. Send her location the second you hang up,” I demanded before ending the call. A numbness bred from overwhelming fear settled over me as I started walking toward the door. I settled into the eye of the storm so I could have a clear head while finding her. I couldn’t afford to be irrational, though I wanted to break every damn thing in my classroom.

  “What’s the plan?” Max asked while shuffling back and forth on his feet.

  “You’re going to class. I’m going to find my girl,” I growled before exiting the classroom.

  I was nearly out of earshot when I heard his low response. “About damn time.”

  When Lance told me her phone was pinged last at a pawn shop, my heart sank, and I connected the dots. Whoever called her wanted money. Fast. I wanted to believe that it wasn’t her father asking for cash, but I couldn’t rule anything out. I pulled up to the shop, depressed to find that her car wasn’t parked outside. She wasn’t there anymore, but I went inside to ask. Maybe it could lead me to more information about what was running through her head.

  She wasn’t answering our calls and texts, which pissed me off even more. How did so much change in just a day? I knew we were going through a rough patch, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be there for her. Fuck! Of course she believed that. I’d proven last night that she couldn’t rely on me.

  The shop was cluttered with knock-off purses, electronics, and jewelry. The shopkeeper was tatted and had a creeper mustache and beady eyes. “Hey, man. You here to sell or buy?” he asked in a lazy, stoner drawl.

  “I’m here to ask a couple of questions.”

  His eyes widened, but he quickly forced himself to relax, my intentions having obviously put him on edge. “I’m not answering shit unless you have a warrant, cop.” Anger swelled within me, and I reached across the desk to grab his shirt and yank him over the jewelry cabinet, his torso slamming against the glass. I didn’t even care that he had a rifle sitting beside him. I was a man on a motherfucking mission.

  “I’m not a cop, motherfucker,” I growled. He started sputtering about the weed growing in his backroom and offering me a bag of grow. His musty smell made me want to gag. I didn’t want his fucking pot; I wanted my girl. Every second he rambled was a second she was in danger. Fuck that. I pulled him entirely over the cabinet and threw him on the ground.

  “I don’t want your shitty weed. There was a girl with blonde hair that was just here. What did she want?” I asked.

  He sputtered out his response. “Sh-she sold me a bag, a MacBook, and a watch. I gave her two grand for all of it, and she seemed pissed that I was low balling her but desperate enough to take it.”

  I picked him up and slammed him against the tile floor in agitation. My hypothesis was correct, she was scrambling for cash and selling everything of value she had. His head hit with a resounding crack. I got up while dusting my hands off, then started walking out. “I’m calling the cops, asshole,” he called at my back.

  “You do that. I’m sure they’ll love the weed you’re growing in the back room,” I replied while dialing Lance’s number. I felt so close and yet so far.

  Once outside, Lance picked up the phone. “Did you find her?” he asked.

  “She wasn’t at the pawnshop,” I growled.

  “It says she’s at some used car lot now,” Lance said, his voice far away like he was looking at his phone while speaking. “Why is she in a car lot?”

  “I think whoever called her wants money. Do you have her bank information? Can we do a transfer?” I asked while getting into my car and pulling out of the lot.

  “Do we really want to do that? We shouldn’t negotiate with gangbangers, Decker. Let’s find her first.”

  “We don’t have time!” I yelled into the phone while punching my steering wheel. “I don’t want her showing up there without enough cash. She’s being impulsive, and I wouldn’t put it past her to show up with whatever she has, and them punishing her for it not being enough.”

  Lance went quiet for a moment before answering. “You’re right. I’m still waiting for the detective to call me back, too.”

  “Send me her bank info, and I’ll wire two hundred grand to her account. Do you think that’s enough?”

  “Shit, Decker. That’s a lot of money.”

  “I don’t care. Keep sending me her location. The plan is to find her before she goes to them, but if we don’t find her, we want her to be prepared, okay?” Once again, Lance went quiet.

  “Decker, what’s going on with you and my sister? I know you care, but this…”

  I didn’t have time for this conversation, but now was better than ever to admit what I felt. “I’m in love with your sister, Lance. I’ve been in love with her since the moment she knocked on your door. You’re my brother, but she’s my soul. My fucking soul. We can talk about this later, and you can kick my ass if you want, but I’m going to make sure she’s safe first.”

  Lance didn’t answer me immediately. I knew he was storming with betrayal and trying to figure out how to respond. I could practically feel his hurt through the phone. It killed me that it came out this way, but I was done hiding. I was done thinking I wasn’t good enough and letting anything hold us back. “Find her first, Decker. Then, we’ll talk.”

  He hung up the phone and sent me the address of the car dealership she was supposedly at. Something told me she was selling her Toyota. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed that way. No more waiting on the sidelines. No more cowering. Blakely Stewart was mine, and I’d go to hell and back to save her.

  32

  Blakely

  I blinked at the numbers on my receipt. No fucking way. “This can’t be right,” I said to the bank teller. I sold my car for seven hundred dollars; its only value was in scrap metal. Last I’d checked, I had three thousand dollars in savings. Two grand from pawning off everything of value I owned combined with the cash from my car. I’d been willing the number to magically increase all afternoon, and now that I was at the bank, I wondered if God finally d
ecided to answer my prayers.

  “You had a wire transfer from someone named Decker Harris thirty-five minutes ago equaling two hundred thousand dollars,” the teller said while typing away on her computer. My mouth dropped open in shock, and I had to shake my head to get rid of the disbelief. How did he know?

  A whispered reassurance answered my unspoken question: Decker Harris always knows.

  I started fumbling for my phone and winced when I saw the numerous ignored calls and texts from Lance, Decker, and Max. I felt terrible and childish, knowing that I should have made more of an effort to reach out to them, I just didn’t see any other way. I wasn’t willing to risk my father’s life. I had to play by their rules and pray it worked.

  “Do you still want to withdraw everything?” she then asked, forcing me to snap my attention back to her.

  “Um,” I mumbled, not sure if I wanted to actually use Decker’s money. It felt so incredibly wrong. But desperate people did desperate things. “Just fifty thousand, please. In cash.”

  Her lips pursed as she looked me up and down. She had orange-blonde hair and overly full lips. She was getting on my damn nerves. “I’ll need management approval.”

  “Then I suggest you call your management,” I growled. I was running out of time. I had to be across town in an hour and didn’t want to think of what would happen to Dad if I was late. Every tick of the clock was another second that my father was in danger. An hour ago, my contact sent me another photo of Dad, this time with his hand bent at an odd angle. It looked broken, but I couldn’t know for sure. The words accompanying the text were painfully clear.

  Tell no one.

  “Blakely!” I spun around and nearly fell apart. Decker looked worse for wear as he jogged over to me. Bankers and patrons stared curiously at us as he wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so fucking glad I found you.”

  I welcomed the feel of his skin, his pounding pulse roaring against mine as he squeezed me tightly. The last time I saw Decker was still blatantly clear in my mind, but I pushed it away. I needed this—needed him. But I knew this intimacy was fleeting, so I reveled in it. “How did you know where I was?” I asked.

  “Max told me what happened and then Lance pinged your phone’s location. I went to the pawnshop and the car dealership. I kept missing you and was worried I’d be too late. They want money, don’t they?” he asked.

  “They have him, Decker. They have my dad.” My words were constricted from the emotions strangling me. It felt freeing to share the burden of this news with someone but terrifying, too. “They’re going to hurt him,” I added. My fumbling hands lifted up my cell phone to show him the image that was burned in my brain. He took in Dad’s swollen, bloody face and the dark room he was tied up in.

  “Fuck, Blakely. Why didn’t you come to me?” he asked as the bank teller walked up to her station with a manager.

  “With everything that’s happened, I just…”

  “I will always be there for you, Blakely. I don’t care what is going on.”

  “Ma’am,” the bank teller interrupted us. “We need your signature to approve the withdrawal.”

  I gave Decker a look before signing the paper she had thrust in front of my face. Fifty thousand dollars was more money than I’d ever seen in my life. I couldn’t even fathom the amount. It made me sick as they counted the cash in front of us. Soon, they were placing it in Decker’s briefcase, and we were walking outside.

  “Thank you for that,” I mumbled, pride making a burning shame fill my chest. “I’ll pay you back. I don’t care how long it takes.” Conviction clung to my words as we made our way to his car. I didn’t want to use Decker’s money, but I didn’t see any other choice. It made me perpetually sick to know that I’d owe him for the foreseeable future. Decker hated parasitic people, and I never wanted to be someone that used him.

  “I don’t care about the money, Blakely,” he whispered softly while placing a hand at my lower back. I wasn’t even sure he realized he was touching me. It was just instinctual.

  “But I do. I’m going to pay you back. I promise,” I replied in earnest.

  “We can talk about it later,” Decker said before opening the passenger door to his car for me.

  “Okay,” I replied, feeling numb and helpless.

  “So tell me what your plan was exactly,” Decker demanded the moment we were settled in the leather seats of his car.

  I didn’t exactly know how to answer him without sounding stupid. I knew that I was reckless and impulsive, but I felt trapped. I didn’t know what else to do, but I knew I had to do something. “I was going to show up with what money I had and bargain for my father’s life. Maybe call the police before I go inside. With that plan, I’d at least know that help was on its way while making sure they didn’t kill Dad the moment they saw red and blue lights.”

  I handed him my phone with the address as he pulled out of the bank parking lot. “I want you to look at that plan like a scientist, Blakely,” Decker said while shaking his head. “You overlooked a lot of variables in that scenario,” he growled under his breath in annoyance. I didn’t like his tone or the flippant way he approached this.

  “This isn’t some fucking experiment,” I replied in a curt voice.

  “Exactly! This is your life, Blakely.” The exasperation in his voice was exhausting. “I knew you had a hero complex, but I had no idea how stupid you were,” Decker said before wrenching his face up into a pained expression. “I’m sorry, I know that was rude.”

  “I get you’re mad at me, but can we please focus on the problem at hand? There’s no need to lash out. This is why I didn’t go to you in the first place,” I complained. My eyes kept glancing over at him as he drove. The sleeves of his button-up shirt were rolled up, showing off his muscular forearms. He was biting his lip while contemplating my words.

  “I am focusing on the problem. You can’t just storm in there with a briefcase full of money,” Decker argued. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to come up with a way to make him understand.

  “And I can’t just ignore it, either. I know you’re the type to quietly pretend nothing is happening and pray it’ll resolve itself, but I don’t have that luxury.”

  “Are you talking about our relationship or your father, Blakely? ’Cause I can’t keep up.”

  I gripped my thighs so hard my nails broke skin. I was livid. “What would you do? What would you do if it was Lance tied to a chair with cuts all over his face, two black eyes, and a broken hand? What would you do if they asked for fifty grand in exchange for his life and said they’d kill him if you told anyone?”

  My analogy seemed to work because Decker’s face drained of blood. He looked so pale and terrified. It was easy to be rational when it wasn’t your loved ones on the line, but he had to know it wasn’t so simple. There didn’t seem to be any way out of this that didn’t involve someone getting hurt. Hell, Dad was already hurt.

  I wanted to be rational. I wanted to have time to find a solution that didn’t involve bloodshed, but these men had already proven to be brutal and violent. They didn’t care about Frank Stewart. They wanted their money. Going to the police might have been the smart thing to do, but I wasn’t willing to gamble with Dad’s life.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. We have to be careful,” Decker finally admitted. I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

  “We’re on the clock. I don’t want to know what’ll happen if we don’t get there by five,” I added while anxiously checking the time on the dash. We only had forty-five minutes to get there. I didn’t want to think of what else they’d do to Dad if we weren’t punctual. Visions of his bloodied face assaulted my mind once more.

  “We’ll get there in time,” Decker assured me before grabbing my hand. I let him hold me tight as he drove, stroking my thumb across his rough skin while staring out the car window. The world outside was a blur.

  “And then what?”

  Decker turned onto the highway while letting out a
slow sigh. I knew his mind well enough to know that he was thinking of all the variables. “Then, I guess we’ll save your Dad.”

  “Thank you, Decker,” I whispered.

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  33

  Blakely

  I was expecting a shady warehouse or some secretive criminal hangout, but the address Decker pulled up to was brimming with light and people. We were at a historic hotel in the business district of Memphis about twenty miles away from our loft. It completely contradicted the scary thing we were about to do. A family was sitting outside on a park bench with a mother bouncing her toddler on her knee. I almost doubted Decker and questioned if we were at the right place.

  “This is it,” Decker said while staring up at the building. He pulled out his phone and started typing a message. “I’m sending Lance our location with instructions to call the police in twenty minutes.”

  Mere seconds after Decker hit send, his phone started vibrating in his palm. I glanced at the screen, noticing that Lance’s name was on the caller ID. “Are you going to answer that?” I asked.

  “No. He’s going to ask questions and try to talk us out of this. Hell, I’m trying to talk myself out of this.”

  I placed a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to look at me. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” I assured him. This was my battle. This was my cross to bear.

  “You’ve always had to do this alone. I know this isn’t the hospital or one of your mother’s ex-boyfriends, or any of the other hard shit you’ve done alone in the past. But I’m going to be here for you, Blakely.”

  I leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, not caring that our relationship was in limbo. We stared at one another for only a second, but I felt forever in his meaningful gaze. “You promise you won’t do anything stupid?” he asked. “We trade the money and get out of there quickly. No hero shit, Blakely. I can’t even stomach the idea of you getting hurt.”