Page 42 of Clubs

“That poor woman. She wasn’t out here for long, was she?”

Sparing me a glance before leveling again on Brooke, Tyler shook his head. “Not long at all, no.”

“Oh God, that just makes it worse.” With a deep frown, Brooke held me closer. “If we would’ve been out here, maybe we could’ve helped.”

“Well, it looks like a dump site.” The moment those words left Tyler’s lips, his mouth dropped. Although he recovered, he knew that evidence would destroy his case against me, and he wasn’t sure why he had said it aloud. He cleared his throat. “I don’t think you should blame yourself, is all.”

“Goodness,” Brooke murmured, fingering her necklace again. “Well, as awful as it is, it couldn’t have been Declan then, right? He doesn’t have a car.”

“Do you?”

“Have a car? Oh, sure. Do you wanna take a look at it?” Still so innocent. Still so sweet. “I don’t mind. I could bring it down to the station tomorrow. It’s back at my house though.”

“If you could bring it down to the station tomorrow”—Tyler held out his business card—“when you give your statement, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Detective.” A soft, solemn smile. “Thank you so much for your service.”

He returned the smile, then shot me a glare. “Right. I’ll see you two soon.”

“Hopefully under better circumstances,” Brooke said.

Tyler let out an odd little huff of a laugh. “Hopefully,” was all he said before returning to his car.

As Tyler stepped inside the vehicle and closed his door, Brooke’s hold on my arm loosened. She waited until he was out of sight, driving down the road, barely a blur on the spring brightened highway, to release me. Taking a step back, she propped her hands on her hips. There was still a certain softness in her eyes, but I couldn’t call her dainty anymore. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Let’s talk about how you’re fucking crazy.”

Face screwing up in some combination of pain and annoyance, she harrumphed. “Excuse me?”

I couldn’t even find the words. All I did, all I could do, was shake my head and walk away.

Close behind me, she called, “How am I crazy? What did I do?”

“Seriously? You gonna act like that was normal, Brooke?”

“What are you talking about?” She was only a foot or two behind me when I reached the door. Normally, I would have held it open for her. Today, I didn’t have the patience.

“Declan. I thought you said we were going to talk. Are we not? You’re just going to storm off?”

“Storm off?” Over my shoulder, I shot her glare and continued around the bar. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“How the fuck do I do what?”

Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the back shelf, not so much as waving to Emory in greeting, I poured myself a large glass. “Act like a whole other god damned person. One second, you’re a raging bitch, and the next, you’re playing dumb blonde? Like you don’t know exactly what’s going on here?”

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” she snapped. “And I was just doing what I had to. Yeah, I pretended to be sweet and innocent, because that’s what works. Cops like dumb girls.” She stood on the other side of the bar, grasping either end of it and leaning in. Her eyes were full of fire. Her voice was no different. “What did you want me to do? I did what I fucking had to. You’re gonna call me crazy for that? Act like I’m a horrible person? Like I did something wrong, when I probably just saved your fucking ass?”

“After your sister put it on the god damn fire!” I wanted to scream something else, not giving a flying fuck about all the patrons turning our way. But I chugged the whiskey instead and lowered my voice. “Ria did this. You know that. Don’t act like you’re stupid, Brooke. Might work on a dumb cop, but it doesn’t work on me. Your little sister had something to do with that girl’s murder, had something to do with that Vampire breaking in your house, and you’re arguing with me? Like I’m the villain here?”

“I’m arguing with you because you called me fucking crazy—”

“I called you crazy because no sane person could act the way that you just fucking acted. Psychopaths, that’s who act the way that you just did. Great show, by the way. You should win a fucking Oscar for that.”

“Hang on,” she said, letting out a strained laugh. “You’re mad because I manipulated a cop. Seriously? I’m sorry. I’m sorry that my life wasn’t as cushy as yours. I’m sorry that I had to learn how to do that to survive. I’m sorry that I worked for the Chambers, and they taught me how to do that. I’m sorry that I’m not a little damsel in distress you have to rescue.”

“I swear, you’re the most emotionally inept woman I have ever met in my life.” Laughing, I shook my head. “You really don’t see what I’m upset about. You really don’t get it at all. You always think it comes down to some feminist issue, and it never fucking does, Brooke. It’s always about you. You, being a fucking angel to everyone else, and a raging cunt to me.”

Mouth dropping in disbelief, she shook her head. “How was I being a cunt today? What’d I do? What was so bad that justifies the way you’re talking to me right now?”

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