Page 66 of Mischievous Lies

“Just wanted to check. You never really know with you,” my brother replies.

“Yep, a thing.” I nod in acknowledgment. Did I ever think Ivy would ask me to be a thing? No, but I had high fucking hopes, and now I’m not letting her go anywhere. “Yeah, we talk, you know, not just fuck. Although that’s one of my favorite things to do with her, and–”

Dutton cuts me off. “Okay, so you’re exclusive with Ivy; that’s what you’re saying,” Dutton clarifies as if I wasn’t making any sense. “I have somewhere to be, so if we can torture this fucker now, that’d be great.”

“Way to rain on my parade.” I sulk as I crack my knuckles and loom over the little man about to shit himself in the chair. “Listen here, you piece of shit. You’re lucky. I’m in a very good mood at the moment. Make it easy for me. Give me the name of your employer, and instead of killing you, I’ll beat you into a vegetable that will kindly be handed over to the police, with whom you might live another day. Behind bars.”

He spits at my shoes, and my smile grows. “Excellent.” I punch him in the face, and he falls over, skidding a little along the cement floor. He gasps in pain as I pull him back up and repeat the process. Hit after hit after hit. I’m not even using my gloves this time because I want to feel his blood running between my fingers.

He tried to hurt Ivy. Tried to drug her. As if I’d ever let some asshole like this live. I don’t care what agreement Ivy made with Braxton. And I’m pretty sure Eli doesn’t either. Sure, Ivy might be upset, but we don’t need to hand him over. The moment we’re given a name, that’s all we need.

“Hawke,” Eli says my name, and it’s the only thing I need to hear to clip my raging thoughts and keep me from hitting Jaredagain. I sit him upright in the chair. He’s missing a few teeth, and bruises begin to swell on his face.

He’s gasping for breath.

“A name?” Eli repeats, adjusting his suit. “Or I hand you over to my cousin here, who enjoys writing messages into the chests of men like you.”

Dutton smiles, and it’s fucking terrifying when his mask slips as he comfortably flips a knife through the air. And I’m not in a particular mood to share.

“Waylon Striker,” the man is quick to say.

“From the Boston Delinquents?” I skeptically ask as I turn to Eli.

Eli shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. We’ve reached a mutually beneficial agreement with them in the last year. I know Waylon; he’s above petty shit like this and doesn’t stand for hurting women.”

“I don’t ask questions,” Jared gasps. “I was just told to start funneling it here. I’m not even a main guy. I’m nobody.” He begins to cry. “I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want to kill Makayla, but I had to, or they’d come after me. You understand, don’t you?” The grimy fucker has the audacity to look into my eyes, begging for his life.

The door opens, and guns are pulled and aimed at the intruder. Braxton puts his hands up in the air.

“Boys,” he says, looking directly at Eli, who makes no move to lower his gun.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Eli asks. “I don’t recall us handing you our location.”

Braxton looks at Jared and whistles, impressed by his bloodied face. “No, you guys didn’t. But Ivy did.”

Eli looks at me unimpressed, and I shrug. “I didn’t tell her we’d be here. But she is pretty good at tracking.” Then I smile wide and add, “Oh, Braxton, Ivy, and I are a thing.”

Eli rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he pockets his gun. Everyone follows his lead.

“Will you stop calling your situation a ‘thing’? She’s your woman, girlfriend, many other terms,” Ford suggests with a raised eyebrow.

“But I like ‘thing,’” I reply, and Ford swears under his breath.

“You don’t really care if you get to play hero with this, so why are you doing it?” Eli asks. “This asswipe won’t last a week in prison.”

Braxton smiles. “True. But you’d be surprised how much a politician is willing to pay for his only daughter’s murderer.”

Dutton’s eyebrows perk. “You wouldn’t have known any of that without the information Ivy provided.”

Braxton casually shrugs. “I’m an opportunist when money is involved, and besides, I’m honoring the bargain I made withher.She wanted him to be put on the media, most likely as some way of offering their families peace.”

“In other words, Hope is busting your balls to do as her friend says.” I laugh at him. Fuck me, we’re all pussy whipped.

“I’m somewhat impressed,” Dutton says to Braxton as he stands to take his leave. “We’re done here. He’s given us all we need to know.”

“Wait. So what now?” I ask. “You can’t seriously believe Striker is behind this?” Sure, he’s the president of a motorcycle club and does some shifty shit, but I like Waylon, and we haven’t had any issues working with him this past year.

“We go ask Striker some questions,” Eli growls, clearly irritated by the only answers we were able to get. “At least we’ve found a thread to this recent problem. We’ll see him tomorrow. I want this sorted.”

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