Bait: A dark erotic thriller (Hunter & Prey Book 2) (26 page)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

Once more Ray cut her off.

“You can cut the bullshit, as the kids say, Agent Smith. You were present when the police interrogated my dear friend and fellow law firm partner, Darren Hunter. You should also know that my wife is his legal representative, as it would be inane for him to represent himself. That, in turn, should also tell you that anything, and I mean absolutely everything that gets mentioned in that interrogation room lands at our desks the moment some underpaid paralegal has typed it up. You tried building a case against Hunter, and you failed. Now you’re resorting to actions that are awfully close to blackmail and intimidation. With that outburst of yours about Ms. Thompson here being responsible for Ms. Jones’s untimely demise—in front of eighteen very supportive witnesses no less—you have hung yourself quite eloquently. Whatever your game plan was, it failed. Now pack up your beauty case and go.”

“You think you’re so smart?” she chuffed at him, venom dripping from every word.

“I don’t just think so, I know so,” he informed her.

“Well, do you also know that we have this signed statement from your client concerning the past actions of one Darren Hunter here? You should read it. It makes for great bedtime perusing.”

My eyes went wide when she whipped out what I presumed was a transcript of that damn video she’d buggered out of me. I’d known that it was a mistake to let her tape that—no, scratch that, to even tell her—but it had seemed insignificant at the time. Now, not so much.

Ray accepted the stack of papers from her and took his time reading it. I watched his features carefully, but not a single muscle moved in his face. He also didn’t tense, or show any other form of distress. I myself was a lot more stressed about it than he. I was sure that it was all news to him, but he took it calmly—and when he was done, he looked at Agent Smith as if she’d handed him a groceries shopping list.

“Was there anyone present to represent my client? Did you inform her of her rights, and the possible ramifications of giving a statement without legal representation present?”

“No, but—“

“You do realize that it will take me less than twenty-four hours to attain statements from the three leading psychiatrists in the city, if not the country, that at the time of giving the statement, my client was suffering from a mental breakdown, and said statement cannot in any way or form be used against anyone mentioned, let alone to pressure her into any actions?” He gave Agent Smith a moment to reply—which she didn’t as she continued to gnash her teeth—before he turned to me. “Wouldn’t you say that is an accurate depiction of your then mental state?”

I knew that this, more so than taking Ray’s offer of representation, would cement that I had switched sides. Brigitte’s words echoed through my mind again—I had to look out for myself.

“Definitely.”

“Perfect,” he agreed, making the transcript disappear in his case. He got out a few more papers, a slow smile spreading on his face as he turned back to the gathered crowd. “These are not signed yet but I can remedy that within the hour.” He handed the stack to Agent Smith, whose eyes went wide as she scanned them. “These are restraining orders,” Ray explained for the rest. “You are to vacate the premises immediately, and that includes any observation gear you have still planted on the premises, or in my client’s electronics. If you don’t cease and desist with your ill-fated operation right now, you won’t be allowed to get any closer than two hundred yards to my client, on the threat of immediate prosecution. I would also like to inform you that we will take legal actions if you plan or execute any other, let’s say compromising acts toward my client. She is, of course, free to approach you herself, but if you even hint at pressuring her into anything ever again, I will have your asses. Now, if you have nothing else to say, I wish you good riddance.”

I could see in the slight slump of Agent Smith’s shoulders that she knew that she’d lost, but she had to try one more time.

“This is preposterous! If you think you can do that—“

“I have done that, many times before,” Ray informed her. “But I don’t have to, if you remember those oaths that you swore when they first let you into the service. I don’t remember badgering the innocent being part of it. It’s your choice. I don’t think my client will do anything if you just leave her alone. I get the certain feeling that this has been her only wish since returning to the city. To put what happened behind her and move on. You should take a page from her book, Agent Smith. Find yourself a new target that is actually obtainable, and move on. I’m sure that your career will recover from the hit it took. It won’t if you stay on the course you’re on right now.”

Her curt nod was so minute that I already missed it, but before leaving, she stopped in front of me, her eyes boring into mine.

“You never answered that question.”

I knew that she was referring to whether I’d killed Daliah or not. Apparently, that “hell no” hadn’t been enough. Before I could answer, Ray did.

“And she won’t. Leave, Agent Smith. This is your last reminder.”

For the second time that day, she was forced to retreat, and I could almost smell the lingering scent of her anger and frustration in the air. Adam once more pleaded with his eyes, but, again, I ignored him. I hated having to do this to him, but really, what other option did I have? They’d forced my hand—as had I, with my own stupidity. I’d made my bed—and I fully intended to sleep in it, too.

Ray waited another few moments to make sure that the elevator was gone for good, then walked over to the obsolete landline and called reception, informing them to revoke the agent’s status as guest. He hung up and paused before he turned to me, studying me with more seriousness than I had given him credit for in the past.

“That statement. Every word if it is true, isn’t it?”

I waited for some taunt or other, but when it didn’t come, there was no reason for me not to reply. I held his imploring gaze easily.

“Do I have any reason to lie?”

He took a moment to digest that—before he shrugged it off. I started to see why Darren thought him trustworthy enough to plaster him to my side.

“And still you came back. Makes one wonder just how much of a number he pulled on you to accomplish that. But far be it from me to judge.” He chuckled. “Who am I kidding, of course I’m judging you. But you never gave a shit about that, so why start now? I certainly like that new attitude of yours. Not giving a shit about what anyone thinks of you, really. Seeing you cower like you were at that cocktail party where you and me had our little heart-to-heart? Embarrassing, really. I prefer the new Penelope. I’m almost sorry my wife informed me she’d castrate me if I ever got too close to you again. Would be fun to let you bust my balls.” He turned away, looking around the room. “Anyway. You’re here, you either killed the girl or helped him cover it up, and now it’s my pleasure entirely to make sure you’ll get away with it. Oh, the irony. Would you mind spending the night elsewhere? I’ll have to have the entire suite checked for bugs. Your phones and other electronics, too. You’ll get the SIM cards back, but I’m afraid you’ll have to replace the hardware. I’m sure Darren will have suitable replacements ready for you, trackers and all pre-installed.”

There were so many things I wanted to shout at him—and not just to defend myself—but I knew that my calm and collected nod was a lot more annoying to him than anything else.

“No problem. Any preferences where I should stay in the meantime?”

“I’m quite sure that Darren could use some company. After all, he has to pretend to be grieving now, and that must be twice as pleasant between your legs than on his own.”

What, oh what had I gotten myself into?

But now it was too late to change things, and too late for regrets. So I nodded again, handed him my phones and tablet, and left. I wasn’t sure if I would spend much of the day with a need for clothes—after all, Darren still had most of my old ones stashed at his place. How convenient.

Taking a cab over to Darren’s was like a morbid trip down memory lane, right down to the moment when the door opened just before I could reach for it, and I found myself confronted with James’s ever-present sneer. And like in the good old times, I beamed right back at him before I strutted into the house, idly wondering if he would, once again, have my underwear and dress dry-cleaned.
 

Ah, the good old times.

“He’s waiting in the library for you,” James informed me and was gone before I could say anything. Not that I’d wanted to—and his abrupt demeanor spared me a potentially awkward conversation—but I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about this… reminiscing. My stomach certainly did a few flips as I went upstairs and on into the library. The last time I had been in that very room had ended with a prick in my neck, followed by the worst days of my life.
 

And still I was here, to throw my lot in with the man who was responsible for it all.

I couldn’t even say I regretted it, and that scared me more than anything else.

Darren looked up from where he had been perusing something on his computer screen. He was dressed casually, which for him meant a dark polo shirt and khakis—what he would have worn to the country club on any other Sunday. He certainly had that acting like nothing happened down pat.

I couldn’t suppress a shudder as I entered, all too conscious of that would-be break-up conversation that we’d had that fine summer day so many months ago.

“For the record, I don’t think I would have actually run,” I offered, sure that he was well aware along what lanes my thoughts were meandering.

He took that in with a pensive look on his face. “I can see that now,” he agreed. “But back then, not so much.”

“You do know that I know that I shouldn’t be here today, right?”
 

He shrugged as he got up, turning his computer off. “Sanity is such a fluent concept. I think it’s highly overrated.”

Exhaling slowly, I crossed my arms over my chest, glancing at the shelves around us. Like in the bedroom, he hadn’t changed anything I’d brought in here, either—not even the framed picture of me from a few years ago that sat on his desk. I figured it was a recent addition, but still.

“Do you really trust Ray with our secrets?” I asked.

Done, Darren stepped up to me, his sheer closeness making me yearn for his touch. Mirth made the corner of his mouth twitch. “Trust him? Hell, no. But he’s smart enough to be afraid enough of the consequences. And just consider how much more he can gloat at everyone now, knowing what he does and all of them none the wiser?”

Rather than wait for my reply, he reached up to gently cup my cheeks before he kissed me, a slow yet intense “I’m glad you’re here” if ever I’d gotten one. I felt myself melt into his touch immediately, and as much as that gave me pause, it was easy to ignore my mind’s scream for caution. Darren had had so many chances to kill me had he wanted to—and I was so tired of running. Of constantly looking over my shoulder. Of always being afraid. Was it insane to give in? Yes. But if insanity felt this good, why should I fight to stay sane?

Not surprisingly, we spent the remainder of the day—and most of the following night—catching up on all those months that at least I had spent in deadening celibacy. Parts of it felt so achingly familiar that it was hard to remember why there’d been a rift between us. But things had shifted. Things were different now. I could feel it in the way he touched me. See it in the way he looked at me. For the first time in our lives, I felt like we were completely open and honest with each other—and that was liberating in and of itself.

Come Monday, I had to face reality again, in the form of Detectives Donahue and Wessex knocking at the door with some additional questions for Darren. I kissed him goodbye right in front of their puzzled faces and skipped down the driveway to the cab that was already waiting for me there. Just a day ago, Brigitte had told me to take my time to get my shit together. I fully intended that by tonight I would be back in the saddle, to rule the city that was rightfully mine.

Of course, things didn’t go quite that smoothly. For one thing, there were the two panic attacks that happened, one before lunch, the other later in the afternoon when it hit me again what I’d done. It reminded me awfully of the first weeks of my flight with Adam, only that now the cause was a different one, obviously. I also had to wait until two in the afternoon for my new phones, and Ray insisted on coming over to personally go over all the things I shouldn’t comment on without him present—which meant pretty much everything, and when he was there, he would answer for me. I hated that arrangement, but I could see where it was a useful one. It kept me from another visit to the precinct, which I was glad for, so I didn’t protest.

I tried working on my real job for a while, but Brigitte had practically jumped at the opportunity to grab the reins for another few days, leaving me with way too much time on my hands. So I did the next best thing and started browsing all the listings my realtor had emailed me in the last couple weeks. I was sure that Darren had no issues with continuing to pay for my residence here, but as I didn’t need this all-exposed, terribly overpriced option anymore, I might as well invest some of my hard-earned money and carve out a home for myself.

I knew that moving in with Darren was an option, but after my extended stay in that basement I had absolutely no drive to remain at that house for any longer than the occasional distracting sleepover.

So it came that I spent the first week as a murderer without anyone really bothering me, feeling a little like a princess in her ivory tower. I followed the news reports—what few there were. Without question, Alison had the situation under control, and it was a tight ship that she ran. I didn’t hear anything from the detectives, or from Agent Smith. There were no paparazzi staking out the hotel lobby to get a glimpse at me, and the one time Darren took me out to dinner no one batted an eyelash at us. That night, he stayed over at my suite, and we did a good job defiling a few of the better-suited hard surfaces before we ended up in the hot tub. We didn’t talk much, but that was probably for the best. While we were physically close, I couldn’t help but notice that my mental walls were still up—and he didn’t try to tear them down. I’d even go as far as to guess that he was happy that I wasn’t falling right back into that codependent behavior that had soured what we’d had—before things had really gone south. I couldn’t help but resent him for that, but it didn’t change the fact that part of me was glad that he was around to distract me.