Page 36 of Mischievous Lies

I grab my handbag, sliding the strap over my shoulder. Her jaw’s still open in disbelief as tears stream down her face. I pity her. Part of me wonders if she was secretly in love with Lester. Either way, I don’t give a shit. Hawke isn’t the monster. He just does what most are incapable of.

When I turn to leave, she yells out behind me, causing a scene. “Yourfriendscan’t go around doing that. I heard rumors, but I didn’t actually think they were true. You’re not above the law!”

I pause at that last statement. “How does the law protect women from people like your friend?”

“He’s not like that. Stop painting him as the monster when your friend is the real monster!”

My nails curl into my palms. This monster she speaks of—Hawke—is the same man who washed me, clothed me, looked after me until the drugs were out of my system. He’s far from evil in my eyes, and I need to make something very clear. I’m not special because I have him and other true friends and family who would kill for me. I can protect myself. Perhaps it was my mistake for never quite letting that lethal side through as I partied all these years.

“You don’t speak about him again. Do you understand? You’re not worthy of having his name on your lips.” At this point, I don’t even think she remembers his name, and it’s irrelevant because he’s not the only one she needs to be concerned about. I look her dead in the eyes as I lean down, getting in her face.

“The fact that you’re mad at me instead of mad about what yourfrienddoes speaks volumes about you as a person. Keep my family and friends out of your mouth because the ability to make people disappear isn’t only his, Makayla. I can always find you, and I will make your life a living hell if youevertry to approach me or my friends again.”

Tears stream down her face, and I’m not entirely sure if she’s comprehending this conversation right now. But I do. It gives me back some of my power, reminding me of who I am. What I’m capable of. I can’t believe I even hung out with someone like this for so many years. Sometimes it’s fun until it’s not.

I stride out of the cafe and decide to go for a walk. I’m close to Hope’s studio, and though she doesn’t usually like visitors, I’m one of a few she’ll allow in. Not that I intrude on her often. I just need a real friend right now. To remind myself of how blessed I am.

But first, I pull out my phone. I bring up Hawke’s number and call him. He answers on the first ring.

“Hey, lover. I’m not against a midday booty call, but I’m working.”

“My schedule’s full.”

“The only thing you’ll be full of is my cock… as soon as you start replying to my messages,” he says, and I smirk at his attempt to try and banter with me.

“I’ve been preoccupied. Lester…” I trail off. I’ve been intending to speak with Hawke about what happened with Lester because I’m not someone who wants to be left out about the details. I’m not a damsel in distress, and I’ve seen some shit before. But I’d wanted to confront Makayla first. Now that I have, I’m ready to close this chapter in my life. Although it wasn’t my actions directly that led to this, a small amount of blood is on my hands, even if it wasn’t me who took Lester out. I don’t think I’m capable of murder, but I understand it serves a purpose and is sometimes necessary. Especially in the world I was raised in.

“So, no sexy time?”

“No sexy time.”

He sighs, and I hear him mumble something about busting his balls.

“I was surprised it took you this long, my little tracker,” he says. There’s a commotion in the background, on his end of the line. Then, what sounds like a chainsaw revving. I have the good sense not to ask what he’s up to right now. “Ford cut it for a moment.” I hear a scream and definitely know I shouldn’t ask questions. “Worthless piece of shit.” Hawke laughs.

I’m not saying Hawke is innocent—the man is definitely a little unhinged—but I’ll never be able to see him differently after the night he looked after me.

“I’ve known about what you did to Lester for a few days,” I manage to say.

“So why didn’t you call me back?” he asks.

“Be careful, Hawke, you’re starting to sound needy,” I purr as I look up at the building Hope works in. She usually starts around midday, so hopefully, she’s here. “I just wanted to say thank you.” I didn’t think I’d ever be thanking a person for killing another person, but deep down, I’m very thankful.

“You seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”

“What?”

“Thanking me. And I haven’t even been between your legs for weeks,” the cocky asshole says. I bite the inside of my cheek. Dangerous. Very dangerous. “So, does that mean I can come over tonight?”

“Goodbye, Hawke.” I hang up with a smile as I enter the elevator. He tries to call back, but I don’t answer.

I knock on Hope’s studio door. “Who is it?” she calls out from the other side, and there’s a bitter edge to her usual sweet tone. I smile as I open the door because I know how much she doesn’t like being disturbed.

“Sorry, I’m not a six-foot-something detective,” I say in greeting, and her demeanor changes.

“I wasn’t expecting you today. But I guess you’re the next best thing.”

She’s sitting in her usual seat, dressed in overalls, with clay everywhere. She goes to the sink to wash her hands, and I take the opportunity to appreciate her space. A water fountain gurgles in the center of the room, classical music plays in the background, and tons of natural light pours through the skylights. I begin touching things I probably shouldn’t be touching, but she says nothing.

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