Page 5 of One Kill

“Hal! Give her a minute.”

It would seem he still knows me just as well as he used to. Processing time is something that I’ve always needed. I’m calm, calculated, and always go into any given situation with a plan, but this… this is all kinds of fucked up.

Murphy’s chestnut hair falls into his perfectly chiseled face as he waits for me to react and Hallie huffs beside him, rolling her hazel eyes in a way that makes me smile. For such a sassy little thing, she clearly has respect for her dad.

This isn’t the place to be doing this, to be having this kind of conversation, but it’s happening and I can’t—won’t—run away again.

“You want to come back to our place? Do this somewhere a bit more private?” Murphy leans forward, holding his hands out between us as if he’s waiting for mine to join them.

Another deep breath and I stand, pulling out my wallet and dropping my usual hundred dollars on the table for Alma. “Did you drive? I’ll follow behind on my bike.”

“But I didn’t get my orange juice!”

“We’ve got juice at home, Hal. And don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook for running off this morning.” She smiles coyly and it’s obvious she has him wrapped around her little finger. He smirks and shakes his head as he moves to stand from the booth and I can’t help the inhale at him being so close, the scent of engine oil and mint that is still so uniquely him invading my senses once again. “My truck’s in the parking lot out front.” He gestures for me to lead the way, always the gentleman.

I hesitate for a moment, torn between thoughts of this being an elaborate trap of some kind or believing in the impossible. There’s a flare of hope somewhere deep inside me that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t lose everything that day.

I choose impossible.

Head held high, I lead the way out of the diner; Murphy and Hallie follow close behind and cross the road over to the parking lot. I watch them walk over to a light-blue Dodge Ram and Hallie waves energetically to make sure I see them as Murphy opens the passenger door for her and she climbs in.

If she’s mine… it doesn’t bear thinking about the time I’ve missed, what she’s been through…

Shaking my head, I move to the alley where my Harley’s parked and slide on my helmet, zipping up my leather jacket before throwing my leg over the seat. Pulling on my gloves because it’s cold as fuck, I start the engine and take a deep, fortifying breath. Today is usually my day for mourning what was lost, what was taken from me, and it’s just taken a fucking crazy turn, but I’m nothing if not flexible, able to adapt to any situation.

I can do this.

Twenty minutes later, I pull up behind Murphy’s truck in a cul-de-sac lined with mismatched houses. There’s a small driveway, just big enough for the truck, so I pull up and park on the street outside the single-story cream-colored house.

“This is sooo cool! Can you take me for a ride?” Hallie is already out of the truck and hovering beside me before I’ve had a chance to turn the engine off, excitement clear in her big round eyes.

“Not a chance, Hal. Come on inside.” Gripping her shoulders gently, Murphy spins her and leads her toward the forest-green front door.

I follow, helmet in hand, into the most suffocating environment I’ve ever seen. Or maybe that’s just me. There are photos of Hallie at various ages, of the two of them together across almost every surface, and suddenly I’m not sure I can handle this. The woman who laughs in the face of danger, who blew a man’s brains out less than twenty-four hours ago, is afraid of the family life in front of her.

“Hal, can you give us half an hour to talk? Maybe set up that new PlayStation you opened this morning?” His voice is coming from the next room, which I see is the kitchen as I step further inside, and I watch Hallie’s shoulders sag.

“Ugh. Fine. But it’s my birthday, so don’t forget about me.”

“I could never, baby girl.” She leans into him, wrapping her little arms around his waist, her head level with his chest, and he presses a kiss into her hair before she turns toward me watching like a psycho in the hallway.

“I know you’re my mom.” She huffs and tilts her chin higher, brushing past me and heading through one of the doors into what I’m assuming is her bedroom.

Kid’s got balls.

“Do you still take your coffee plain, no sugar, no cream, Jaybear?” Murphy’s voice calls through from the kitchen as if my whole world isn’t crashing around me, everything I thought I knew suddenly becoming complete bullshit.

“Yeah.” My voice is firm, steady, void of anything that might portray how I’m really feeling, and I step further into the living area, sitting in the single gray armchair to avoid him being able to get close to me.

“Here you go.” Murphy enters the room carrying two black mugs and passes one to me. “Sorry about ambushing you earlier. As you can probably tell, once Hal gets something into her head, I have a hard time stopping her. She’s a lot like you.” He sits on the matching gray sofa across from me, placing his mug on the glass coffee table in front of him.

“See, you keep saying that. But it’s a pretty tough pill to swallow, Murphy. She can’t be mine.” My thoughts are still a jumble of things, trying to decipher what’s real while maintaining a level of calm like no other.

“She is. I found her crying in a pool of blood the day your parents were…” He clears his throat awkwardly, a hint of anger in his tone that he’s trying to hide as he struggles to find the right words, but there are none.

“Murdered, Murphy. The day my parents were murdered.” Snark is my go-to because I’m not sure how to handle the emotions running through me at the thought of that poor baby.

She wasn’t dead.

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