Page 16 of Forbidden Fruit

“I want to,” I cried, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “I really do. But I need time to figure things out. I need to get my head on straight.”

He was silent for a moment, and I could hear the pain in his voice when he spoke again. “What are you saying, Raya?”

“I don’t want to see you right now,” I said, my heart breaking as I forced the words out. “I just…I need some space.”

“Raya, no,” he protested, his voice urgent, desperate. “Please, don’t do this. You could be in serious danger, and not having me by your side… you’re putting yourself at risk. I can’t let that happen.”

“I can handle myself,” I replied, though the words felt hollow. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“I’m not trying to take care of you, I’m trying to protect you,” he insisted.

“I need time,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Raya…”

I hung up before he could say anything else, the sound of the disconnecting line echoing in my ears. I dropped the phone onto the passenger seat, my hands cold and shaking as I gripped the steering wheel. My heart was racing, my chest tight with the weight of everything that had just happened. I felt like I was drowning, suffocating under the pressure of it all.

Zayn had asked me to come in early to Sweet Cocktails to restock the VIP room bar and meet with him afterward to discuss future promotions for my raspberry martini. I drove to the bar, grateful for the distraction of having somewhere to go and something to do. I needed the familiarity of the place, the routine, the escape.

When I arrived, the parking lot was nearly empty. It was still early—too early for the regulars to start trickling in. I parked in my usual spot and made my way inside, the familiar scent of alcohol and polished wood hitting me as soon as I stepped through the door. It was a comfort, in a way, a reminder that there were still things in my life that hadn’t spiraled out of control.

Anything to keep my mind off the horrible house of mirrors that had become my life. I grabbed a box of glassware from the storeroom and headed upstairs, the silence of the empty bar pressing in around me.

As I started restocking the shelves, I tried to focus on the task at hand, to lose myself in the simple, repetitive motions. But my mind kept drifting back to Burt, to the image of his lifeless body on that stretcher, to the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of my stomach.

***

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even notice when I knocked a tray of glasses off the counter. They shattered on the floor, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet room. I cursed under my breath, kneeling down to pick up the pieces.

As I reached under one of the tables, my hand brushed against something small and hard. I frowned, my fingers closing around the object as I pulled it out to get a better look. It was a tiny device, no bigger than a matchbox, with a small antenna protruding from one end.

A chill ran down my spine as I realized what it was—a listening device. Someone had been spying on Maxwell and his associates last night.

I gasped, dropping the device as if it had burned me. My heart was pounding in my chest, a sick feeling of dread settling over me. Who had put it there? Who had been listening to their conversations, and why?

“Raya?” Zayn’s voice startled me, and I jumped, the broken glass scattering across the floor. I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his dark eyes locked on me, on the bug in my hand.

I felt a cold sweat break out across my skin as I stared at him, realization dawning on me with terrifying clarity. It was him. It had been Zayn all along.

“You found it,” he said, his voice calm, almost casual, as if we were discussing the weather and not the fact that he had been spying on me.

“Why?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “What were you after? Did you kill Johnny? Burt?”

He didn’t answer, just stepped closer, his hand slipping into his jacket. I saw the glint of metal, the gun, before he pulled it out and pointed it at me.

My breath caught in my throat, fear flooding my veins. “Zayn…please, don’t do this.”

But he just smiled, a cold, cruel smile that sent a shiver down my spine. “It didn’t have to be this way, Raya. It really didn’t. But now you’ve given me no choice.”

I screamed and turned to run, but he was faster. His hand closed around my wrist, yanking me back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of me. I struggled against him, but he was too strong, his grip like iron as he pulled me toward the door.

“Let me go!” I cried, my voice hoarse with panic.

But he didn’t listen. He just tightened his grip on me, his other hand still holding the gun, the barrel pointed directly at my chest.

My mind was racing, desperate for a way out, but there was none. I was trapped, alone, and completely at his mercy.

“Please,” I begged, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. “Please don’t do this.”

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