Page 67 of Mischievous Lies

“And if he’s involved?” Ford asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.

Eli’s jaw tics, but he doesn’t hesitate as he says, “Then we’ll make the problem go away.”

I’m not paid to use my brains like the others, but I have a gut feeling that Waylon has nothing to do with this. And I think Eli has the same feeling which is most likely why he’s coming to address this head on instead of simply sending us instead.

“So, can I take him now?” Braxton asks, interrupting us. “Maybe pump him up with some drugs so I can say I found him overdosed?”

I turn to Eli, who nods his head. I walk over to one of the containers we have and find an old needle.

“Boss?” I say, holding it up.

Eli is watching Braxton. “It could kill him,” he points out.

Braxton shrugs. “I don’t think any of us care about that, do we? We’re just making sure our women are all okay and feeling in charge.”

“Seems like my wife is the only obedient one,” Eli grits, and I throw my head back and laugh.

“I’d love to see you say that in front of Jewel.” But when I see his lethal expression, I’m quick to clear my throat and apologize as I line the needle up with a vein in Jared’s arm.

At the end of the day, he’s just a pawn in a game.

He weakly tries to fight me, but I pin his arm easily to the chair before I stick the needle in. His eyes go wide as I inject him with the contents.

Too fucking bad.

This is far kinder than I’ve been with any asshole I’ve wanted to torture.

His mistake was coming for my woman.

CHAPTER 41

Ivy

“Weren’t going to stop, huh?” I growl at him as he sheepishly walks past me in the bedroom. I’m not that mad because I know Hawke well enough to know he had no intention of letting Jared make it out of whatever dungeon they were torturing him in, which is exactly why I put a tracker on his favorite boots a week ago. I can also track his phone, but this made it easier. The moment he stopped at the location, I sent it to Braxton and Hope.

He clears his throat. “I was just excited by the fact that we’re a thing,” he says, and I roll my eyes as he goes into the bathroom to shower off the blood he’s covered in.

I’m not entirely mad at him. If anything, it makes me feel safe knowing he’d go to such lengths to protect me. But I want Jared’s face to be on the news. I want Makayla’s family to know it was him who killed her. Anything past that, I don’t care, and I’m satisfied that he will be killed one way or another.

I’m under the blankets in Hawke’s bed, wearing one of his shirts, as I flick through the channels. He reappears, totally naked, with a smug expression on his face. But instead of joining me, he leaves the bedroom and heads downstairs. I stare afterhim, curious as to what he’s up to. A few minutes later, he returns with several takeout containers.

“I take it you haven’t eaten today,” he says as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“One cookie,” I say, shifting to make more room for him on the bed. My stomach growls as a reminder. I was so focused on everything that was happening that eating was the last thing on my mind. How this man kills and tortures and still has an appetite afterward will always impress me. It’s past midnight, but I suppose it’s as good a time as ever to have a few bites.

A random movie is playing in the background, but I watch him as he happily spreads the food out in front of us. I try to hide the smile as I think about our earlier conversation. Who would have ever thought that Hawke and I would discuss being exclusive? It was easy—maybe too easy—but that has always been our relationship. Maybe I thought it could never be more because I wasn’t prepared to face my feelings for him.

“What?” he asks with a smile as he snaps the chopsticks apart and offers them to me. He got noodles—one of my favorites.

It’s strange to think of what a future with him might look like, and to what extent? Is it still anowthing? Maybe in a year’s time, we’ll get bored of each other? Or could it be… a forever type of thing?

I can’t help but think about how good of a father he would be. It’s a strange feeling, considering I’ve never looked at a man that way.

“It’s nothing,” I say, opening the box.

“Spit it out, or I’ll tickle it out of you,” he warns, and I roll my eyes. But when I look at him, I see he’s dead serious, and I’m not risking shit.

“I was just thinking you’d be a good dad. That’s all.”

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