Only For Him, page 31
“She’s cuffed to the table?” The lawyer looks from the cuff to meet the cops’ gazes.
“She was attempting to harm herself.”
“No, I wasn—”
“Don’t say another word,” the confident lawyer with gray hair at his temples and simple silver-rimmed glasses tells me calmly.
He holds a hand up and waits for me to nod.
“You’re interrupting an interrogation,” the cop on the right says. “That’s obstruction of justice.”
“She was never even checked in.” The lawyer crosses his arms over his chest. “Uncuff my client now or I’ll push the issue.”
“We need answers—”
“You needed to allow her to call her lawyer. That’s the first rule you’re supposed to follow. She’s entitled to legal representation and I am certain she asked for it.”
“We have a duty to conduct the interrogation before she’s released on these charges.”
“Have you filed them yet?” the lawyer asks. “Come on. Let me see the paperwork. Have the charges been filed?”
It’s nothing like the lawyer shows on TV. A full-blown argument ensues. One of the cops yelling over my lawyer who spouts off numbers of some jurisdiction or law. I don’t know and I can’t keep up. I just want to leave. I need to get out of here.
By the time the screaming match ends, my lawyer’s face is reddened and any sense of calm professionalism is out the window.
“That’s what I thought,” my lawyer says. “Uncuff her. If you find the time to actually file these charges, then you can contact me directly. In the meantime, you can look forward to being served.”
“This is an active case,” the short cop points out, but it sounds like he’s fighting a losing battle.
“It’s an abuse of power, and you know that just as well as you know that these charges are bogus. Either book her or let her go.”
The cops exchange another look. Lifting his hands, the taller one surrenders. I don’t know what he’s giving in on, but I hope it’s letting me leave.
Everything happened so quickly, I don’t think I took a breath through it.
The shorter cop stands up with a disgruntled sigh, leans over, and removes the second handcuff.
“This way, Braelynn,” the lawyer says. He puts a steady hand on my elbow and steers me, silently, out of the room and toward the front of the building.
“I did ask to talk to you. They wouldn’t listen.”
“I’m sure you did.” He doesn’t slow his pace at all. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you now.”
We pass the booking desk, where a man is sitting in a plastic chair in handcuffs. He looks far too familiar. My world slows just then as his identity registers. Behind him, another man turns around and everything in me goes cold.
A camera flashes nearby, and there’s another cop being booked.
They’re the men from the hospital. Detectives Barlowe and Hart…my feet stop moving and I stare back as the man who just turned around, sees me, and quickly looks away. They weren’t detectives. They’re being booked. Oh my God. He did set me up.
The cops in the interrogation room were telling the truth. Declan lied to me. They were nothing but a test.
My stomach drops.
“Miss Lennox—” The lawyer tugs at me slightly, pulling me back to the present. I follow numbly, barely cognizant.
We head out into the lobby. Fluorescent lights shine down on yellowed linoleum by the front desk. Several people are sitting in plastic chairs, a couple of them having loud phone conversations. A female cop behind the front desk patiently explains to an elderly woman how to file a police report.
“Come on, Braelynn.” My lawyer’s tone is gentle, but he pulls on my arm. He must want to be out of here as much as I do, but I slowed down. “I’ll take you back to the house.”
Fear paralyzes me. “Are they going to let you do that?”
He barks out a laugh. “Until they’ve filed charges, I’ll do whatever I want. You need to get back to the house.”
“Is Declan there?”
“Not yet,” the lawyer informs me with a pat. “He will be soon though. Let’s get you back.”
Back to the Cross brothers and Declan isn’t even there to protect me. Although at this point, I don’t know if he would. I don't know what’s real and what’s a lie. All I know is that I need someone to help me because I am not okay.
DECLAN
A full day I sat in a cell and all I can think about is her. I’m sick to my fucking stomach and on edge.
The holding cell is just an empty fucking interrogation room. The cold cracked cement floor is coated in dull gray paint. The steel bench is bolted down and the cylinder walls have texture but are coated in the same thick paint as the floor. It’s empty and cold as ice…how fucking fitting.
There’s nothing but the tick-tick-tick of the fucking clock that only seems to get louder.
The only conversation I had was with my lawyer who told me what I already know… They have forty-eight hours and no doubt they’re doing everything they can to pin anything on me or get any warrants expedited.
Whoever signed off on this is fucked. I’ll ruin them. I’m going to destroy not only them but everything and everyone they’ve ever loved.
My head falls back against the brick wall. I don’t know if it’s cold in here or if my body has just given up. I’m at war with myself. Fighting to not respond or react every time I relive what she told me and what she did. I’ve had twenty-four hours of remembering every moment. I could have saved her and walked away—to do the right thing by her.
I hate myself. That’s truly what it comes down to. I fucking hate myself for what I’ve done to her, and all I want is to make sure she’s okay and fix this.
My throat dries and my reddened, tired eyes go heavy.
They won’t even tell me if she’s all right. That’s what I can’t get past. I swallow thickly as I shove every emotion down and it’s then that officers open the door.
I don’t move or react other than to say, “I want my lawyer.”
The metal chair groans against the cement floor as one of them kicks it toward me. It almost nudges against the bottom of my oxfords.
With the crack of my neck and the stiffening ache in my shoulders, I turn to look at him. Fucking bastard cops.
The short one is Angino and the taller one is McKinley. I recognize their names but not well enough. A file must’ve been slipped into someone else’s hand. My jaw ticks as the two of them take a seat at the metal table.
The second I’m out of here, they’re as good as dead and every pocket of the men on my side will be filled.
“Scarlet Miller.”
McKinley talks as I slowly roll my shoulders, intending on sitting at the table if for no other reason than to look these men in their eyes.
As I stand, he babbles on, something about her family, her childhood. As if it matters at this point. As if a man like me could feel remorse for her. She set this into motion, didn’t she?
It’s all I can think as I pull out the chair and take a seat. I still can’t figure out all the pieces, but I know she knew my poor naive girl was in too deep.
His voice gets louder, sterner, as his fist slams down on the table. “Got your attention now?” he questions. Angino’s expression slips into a smug grin.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” I respond, and even though it’s a prick response, it’s also true. So I guess I’m an honest asshole.
“You knew she was undercover. You had her killed.”
I hold his gaze for a good five seconds before reminding him of my lawyer’s name.
“Why not Braelynn? She’s a rat too.” Angino says and I stiffen. I didn’t know I could feel anger like this. With my brothers it’s different. It’s a fear, a sadness even. When the cops come for Braelynn though, all I feel is rage.
I swallow so fucking loud I know both of them can hear it. I’ve been in this room maybe twice. This specific room with my ass in this same uncomfortable chair.
I’ve been in other interrogation rooms maybe a dozen times, I’ve lost track. It was more often when we were younger.
I never gave enough of a fuck to give a reaction. Not until just now. It registers in their expression that just mentioning her name gets to me. There’s an uptick in his asymmetric grin that confirms my intuition.
“My lawyer,” I speak calmly and evenly although my pulse races in my ears.
Every inch of my skin singes and my muscles are coiled. Leave her alone. Leave her the fuck alone. Every time they mention her name, I’m all too aware I’m barely holding it together. I say nothing. Not a damn word as they press for more.
“We told her about Hart and…what was the other guy called?” The one asks the other and my throat dries out. He chuckles as I stare back at him.
Again, I give them nothing. Not a damn thing as they rattle on about how she’s turning on me. How she knows I lied to her. How she almost killed herself because of me.
I hate them. I hate how much of the truth they know. The clock ticks and my blood pressure rises.
“I have your men under oath testifying that you killed two men to cover for your rat girlfriend.”
Anger unfurls inside of me in a way it never has. How dare they use that word with her name. Rat. The back of my teeth clench so hard they nearly break. Everything in me is exhausted and sore, everything dying to let it all out.
More importantly, betrayal ripples through me. Who did it? Who dared to call her a rat? I have no way of knowing if it’s even true but in the pit of my stomach…I believe it is and it kills me. All of this is like a knife to my throat, as I slowly bleed out.
“They said you know she’s a rat.”
They poke-poke-poke, hoping for a reaction. They’ve certainly earned one but it will take time before I can follow through with recourse.
As my blood pounds in my ears, it takes everything in me not to say a damn word.
“They said she must be a good lay for you to turn on your brothers for her.”
Just as I nearly snap and tell him to shut the fuck up and leave her alone, the door slams open.
“This ends now.” My lawyer’s voice is firm, firmer than normal. I’m all too aware that nothing about what has happened this weekend is normal. I swallow down every emotion, waiting for my lawyer to tell me to get up and follow him out. Just as he has every other time.
This time feels different though. It’s heavier…
“We have forty-eight hours to hold–”
“You have a complaint filed against both of you on behalf of several of my clients,” McHale says sternly and that gets my attention. It’s more than obvious that someone has changed the rules of the game, and we’re only just now catching on to that. My lawyer’s gaze never reaches mine. In a cold tone he adds, “I assume you’re done here?”
BRAELYNN
Michael McHale is kind on the surface, professional and quiet. He turns the heat up in his car, a top-of-the-line Lexus, but my body stays numb and shivers run down my spine. My throat is thick with shame and a confusion I can’t seem to shake loose. Outside the car, everything blurs and time passes too quickly; there are streetlights every so often. Blocks go by in darkness. Some houses have lights on, and I wonder about all those people living different lives. People lie to each other all the time, which is to be expected.
Declan wasn’t supposed to lie to me.
If there’s real love there, if he truly loves me, then why does he lie to me?
I’m glad to be away from the jail, but all too soon the lawyer pulls into the driveway in front of the house and I’m reminded of the fear.
“I’ll help you out.” A protest nearly rises to my lips. Somehow it seems like it would be better if he just drove me around until I could figure things out. I don’t trust any of my own thoughts though. I don’t know what’s real or what’s going to happen to me when I step through those doors.
There’s no way to figure it out without speaking to Declan, though. I’ve faced worse things than a conversation, but it feels like the ground has been forcibly moved under my feet.
I wouldn’t mind falling asleep in the car and waking up where nobody knew my name, and all the secrets and lies were far behind me. I wouldn’t mind if I forgot it all. Every reason I had to just jump. To start over. My head falls back as I try to remove that thought. I don’t want to die. I turn my gaze back to the house, but I also don’t know that I want to go back. I’m trapped and I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.
If I left now though, I’d never find out why Declan lied, and I’d never find out if he really loved me, and I’d have to live the rest of my life not knowing.
That hurts more than anything else. I still don’t exactly want to get out of the car when the lawyer opens the door and waits expectantly.
“Thank you.”
The lawyer keeps his hand above my elbow on the walk to the front door, more than likely because my legs wobble, and I’m sure many of my thoughts can be read on my face. My heart races. The truth is behind that door, somewhere. It’s a matter of getting Declan to give it to me, and if he doesn’t…that means our love is a lie, too.
The lawyer knocks lightly on the door, then opens it without hesitating. It’s not locked. They’re waiting for us.
We step inside.
A false sense of relief washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced by the cold, numb feeling I had before. Carter’s waiting for us near the front door with his arms crossed over his chest and a serious look on his face. Declan is nowhere to be seen.
Shivers run down my spine as my gaze drops down the crisp suit and lands on the floor. Breathing is harder feeling his eyes on me.
“Where is Declan?” I manage to whisper to the lawyer, my hand rushing to land on his and keep Carter from holding me. But he doesn’t allow that. He slowly lets me go in the grand foyer of the estate. Handing me over to Carter Cross.
“He’s still waiting to be released.”
“Michael, what is the update?” Carter questions businesslike, without addressing me at all.
The lawyer clears his throat. “Maybe we should discuss this in private?”
Carter nods sharply.
“Lead the way.” The lawyer steps further into the house as my feet remain planted where they are, the door to my back. Once again I’m wondering if I could possibly open it.
Carter begins to follow the hollow steps of expensive shoes against marble, but he hesitates. “Do you need company?” His question is gentle and catches me off guard so much that I peer up into his dark gaze.
I shake my head as I swallow thickly. Without conscious consent, my arms cross over my chest and then I let them drop again, all the while avoiding his monitoring gaze. I’ve had enough of being scared and confused, and it’s not getting better. But all I know for sure is that I want Declan.
Eyes guarded, Carter looks me up and down. “Where will you be?”
My voice cracks, so I clear my throat and start again. “Kitchen.”
He nods, then holds out a hand and gestures toward the kitchen.
A light above the stove is on, giving low light to the space. Time passes so slowly and at first I sit, but then I stand and go about without thinking much. I open cupboards until I find a glass, then fill it in the sink. The cool water eases my dried throat, but it makes me feel a bit sick. I press my wrist to my forehead and make myself drink more water. When the glass is half-empty, I dump the rest into the sink and put the glass down harder than I meant to. I almost expect it to crack, but the glass holds.
It feels less fragile than I do. The kitchen begins to tilt, and damn—if I don’t sit down soon, I’ll probably fall and hit my head on the floor. Then I'd be at the mercy of whoever finds me.
I get to a chair at the kitchen table just as my knees go wobbly and give out. Burying my face in my hands, I feel them shake. Memories of the hospital and the two fake detectives make me feel sick and betrayed. By those two men, for playing a role like that and asking me so many questions, but mostly by Declan.
He lied. It’s all I can focus on because I don’t want to believe it. I remember how he kissed me while I laid in that bed. How he silenced every fear just then.
How much of it was a lie?
Though the lawyer and Carter aren’t speaking loudly, I can hear the murmurs of their conversation through the walls. I didn’t want to be alone, but this is the worst way to be alone. I’m not by myself. I’m with Carter, who I know is going to watch my every move, and I’m not protected.
I swallow thickly as the memories of feeling so safe with Declan rush back into my mind. My eyes burn but I don’t let any tears slip down under my palms. Was I wrong to believe he loved me? It seems from all the evidence the day has revealed that I was.
The refrigerator kicks on, humming away in its spot in the kitchen. Thankfully it blocks out the rumble of Carter’s conversation with the lawyer. I don’t want to hear a word of it. I don’t want to be a part of any of this.
I breathe through my nose and release each breath through my mouth, trying to calm myself. Whatever else happens, I need to stay as strong as I can.
Voices in the hallway tell me that Carter and the lawyer are finished talking. I hear them exchange goodbyes, and then the whoosh of air as the front door opens. It closes a second later and I hear the lock flip.
Then footsteps. Fuck. My heart thumps at the same pace.
I take my hands away from my eyes and sit up straight behind the table. I could pray and beg for that man not to come in here but I know he’s going to. Of course he is.
Carter enters the kitchen with worry in his eyes and comes to me without hesitation, putting one hand on my shoulder. “How are you doing, Braelynn?”
It’s not at all what I expected to happen. An interrogation would be more in line with what’s happened since the police burst into the hotel room. The unexpected kindness from Carter makes me want to let go of all the strength I’ve been holding on to and break down. My chin quivers, but I close my teeth together. If I let the breakdown happen, he’d hold me.
