Page 52 of How May I Please You

“He’s Internal Affairs!” she blares, her voice a mixture of hatred and sadness. “Internal Affairs investigates police departments, Evan. They use their own internal investigation procedures to determine the culpability of its officers for misconduct, and make sure employees follow agency standards of professionalism. They fucking sneak in and snoop around, asking questions and trying to get answers about shit that doesn't even pertain to them.”

I don't say anything, but my heart sinks. I know what this means.

That beady-eyed little fucker.

“Summers has been investigating me from the moment he arrived,” she goes on, still wound up tightly and crying through the phone. “That’s why he has been asking all of these questions and looking into our relationship. We practically sealed the deal for him when we took him to lunch that day. He heard your name and immediately began digging, and as soon as he found out that your name was on a search warrant with Winter’s, he latched on and never let go. Sir, he got another warrant to search your house … and they dug up Sierra Cross’s body this morning. IA is asking me to come in for questioning, and they’ve put a warrant out for your arrest. I’m so sorry, Sir. I’m sorry.”

Journey begins wailing, which makes my heart ache because I’ve never heard her cry before. She’s always so strong, confident, and brutal. This has broken her, and while I should be shattered and afraid myself, hearing her cry only stiffens my spine. It only makes me more defiant. I have to protect her, but I’m so fucking upset that I’m not sure exactly what to do. If I don't make a move, I’ll witness my entire life come crashing down right in front of me. I can't just stand still and watch it happen. I have to do something with this anger.

“Journey,” I say before taking a deep breath and settling myself. “Stop crying. I know you're upset, but it won't do us any good. This was bound to happen. If I would've moved Sierra’s body a long time ago, then Summers would've found nothing and we wouldn't be in this place. So it’s on me, not you.”

“But I should've recognized the signs. I should've known he wasn’t a normal detective.”

“No,” I say, cutting her off. “If he’s Internal Affairs, then I’m sure he’s trained to make sure you don't catch on too quickly. That’s why he backed off when you started questioning him. He knew he was showing his hand and you were onto him. You have nothing to be sorry for.

“Now, you need to listen to me. If they’ve issued a warrant for me, it’s going to get hot. Luckily, I’m not in the city. I’m in Wilmington. I want you to meet me here at the Hyatt. I’m in room 2307. Bring as much as you need to live on the road for a while, because there’s a chance we may never sleep in our own house again. When you get here, come straight up to the room. Text me when you're close and I’ll let you in”

Journey sniffs before saying, “Okay. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

“Just come here, Journey. We’ll talk more once we’re together. Okay?”

“Okay, Sir. I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon. I love you, Evan.”

I try to hesitate because I’m pissed, but the truth comes out. “I love you.”

We hang up and I set the phone next to me. I can’t believe it. One simple mistake has cost us everything in one swoop. The entire time I was dating Journey before I told her about accidentally killing Sierra, I contemplated moving the body. Over and over again the idea kept coming to me, and I continued to ignore it. Even after we killed Winter, we decided to keep Sierra in my backyard as her case went cold without any leads. I should've known that secrets don't stay buried forever. It’s my fault. Now I have to do something about it.

Since the warrant for my arrest is brand new, I assume I have some time to move around here in Wilmington without having to worry about being caught. So, I get up and finish getting dressed. I’m going to need to make a couple of stops before Journey gets here. It’s time to prepare for what’s to come.

chapter

thirty-two

When there’s a knock on my hotel door, I don't even feel like the person I was before I spoke to Journey earlier. Prior to calling her back, I was furious over what she tried to do to Trey. I was aggravated by the fact that I had been forced to leave the city I love and find refuge in Wilmington, desperate to be anywhere but the place where I was lied to countlessly. I was sick over it, no doubt, but now … now I’m ready to be everything I was always afraid I would become. Now I’m ready to embrace the beast I’ve always been.

I sit on the edge of the bed staring at nothing, the room darkened by shadows cast on the walls from the glow of the TV and no other lights on. The darkness matches my mood, to say the least. A second knock raps on the door and I force myself to move, the bag on the bed shifting as I get up. I had to go out with a hoodie, keeping my face low as I perused ailes for things I’ll need over the next few weeks. I couldn't even lift my head in case there were cameras above me. What a shitty existence. It reminded me of the way I was before I met Journey—a coward, too afraid to show the world who he truly is. I hated it then, and I fucking hate it now.

When I open the door, Journey stands before me dressed in all-black, two bags in her hands carrying her belongings because she can’t go back home either. She’s all packed and ready to run and hide. Now we’re two cowards prepared to go on the lamb until the end of time.

“Hey,” she says, a half smile on her face from being happy to see me while still hesitant. She knows I’m not over what happened so she’ll tread lightly, but walking soft enough to traipse over eggshells wouldn't save her from the way I’m feeling right now.

I turn on my heel and walk back into the room, Journey following closely. The door to the room closes, and as Journey sets her bags down next to the mini fridge, I reach into my own bag and grip the new rope I purchased for this moment. I squeeze it hard, taking out my anger on the knotted fabric as I turn around to face Journey. When sees me, she glances down at my hand.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What should I do?” I reply, nearly foaming at the mouth from how fucking pissed I am at the situation that forced us into this room.

Journey frowns. “What? I don't know. What should you do about what, Sir?”

“Oh, Sir? Am I your Sir, Journey?” I growl, gripping the rope even tighter.

“Of course you are,” she answers.

“Do you lie to your Sir? Do you keep your Dom in the dark about everything? Do you avoid communication with the person you belong to? Do you fucking sneak—beating up people, burning down buildings, and fucking planning murders without ever thinking of telling the truth? Is this how a submissive acts with her Sir?”

Journey is silent, a look of horror on her face before forcing herself to stutter, “Sir … Evan … I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, quickly eliminating the space between us with two large steps. My nose touches Journey’s as we stand face to face. “You call me Sir and then treat me like I’m just another random person on the street for you to lie to. We were supposed to be partners. We were a team. We have fucking laid people to rest together, Journey, and you lie to me. Me! I may be a savage who has stolen the life from people’s lungs, but since each of us has learned the truth about the other, I have never lied to you. You planned to murder my friend and didn't speak a word of it. Had I not shown up to Trey’s house to apologize and make sure we were good, I never would've been there to stop you. You would've killed him and I never would've known that it was you, and you never would've told me. How the fuck am I supposed to trust you now?”

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