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Hope is smirking as she moves to Braxton’s side, and I curse under my breath at Hawke. “I said play nice.”
“Yeah, Hawke, play nice,” Braxton says with a cocky smile. Oh fuck, this was a bad idea. I forgot how much these two hate each other.
“Is that a threat?” Hawke’s quick to ask.
“Enough. You both have to be real dicks to ruin pasta for anyone. Sit,” I say, pointing at a chair for Hawke to sit in.
He grumbles his complaint, but does exactly as he’s told. Hope giggles as she sits beside Braxton. The two men stare at one another, Braxton seemingly smug as he takes a swig of his beer.
“I’m sorry to hear about your friend. The one on the news,” Braxton begins. I give Hawke a pointed look. I’m unsure how much he’s told him. Hawke’s gaze suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.
“Thank you. I actually might need your help with something related to that. An opportunity for you to play hero,” I suggest as the waitress comes over and offers us drinks. I ask for water, and can see Hope’s surprise at that, but her jaw drops when Hawke asks for the same.
“I’m always interested in maintaining a good reputation,” Braxton says with a conniving smile. The truth is, he’s dirty as they come. But between him and Hope, I have no doubt they’re as bad as each other. Christ, I didn’t even realize she was a serial killer for years. Yet it feels strange to admit my own secrets. I suppose he’s as good as any in the friendship circle.
“I was hired for a job. I received payment, and I was advised to record and send the recording to a particular email address. I don’t usually ask any questions past that, for the record.”
Braxton looks to Hope and then back to me. “A job like you’ve done for Hope?” he asks.
Hawke’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but I ignore him. He doesn’t know what hand I have to play in Hope’s business, and that’s just one example of why I’m a vault. I put my hand on his thigh under the table, and it seems enough to distract him as huge plates of pasta are set in the middle of the table. Hawke’s eyes light up as he sees the mountain of food. I try not to laugh as I wait for others in earshot to walk away.
“Kind of, but not the same,” I tell him. “I still have a copy of the recording, even though I was told to destroy it. I have the evidence of what happened that night. I saw the whole thing.”
His eyebrows raise. “Jesus. That’s some damning information. Can I see?” he asks.
I look to Hawke for reassurance, but I trust Hope’s instincts about Braxton, and if he so much as tried to fuck me over in some way, she’d kill him herself, of that much I’m certain.
I pull out my phone and show him the video. Hope leans over his shoulder as he silently watches it. Hawke serves me up a plate, as if him feeding me is an everyday thing.
“She knew him,” Braxton says.
“Yep.”
“It’s possible you’ve been targeted in this. I don’t know much about your line of… work. But do you think it’s too much of a coincidence that you were the one to watch it?” Braxton asks.
“Have your men been able to track me breaking into your ‘top secret’ things at the station?” I ask rhetorically. A vein pulses in his forehead, and I feel smug with that answer.
“Sure you haven’t pissed anyone off lately? Broken someone’s heart recently?” Hope asks, taking a small bite of some pasta.
An energy shifts between Hawke and me, and we glance at one another before I quickly look away. Why the fuck did he have to make eye contact with me right in that moment?
When I turn back to Hope, she’s smirking, and I’m quick to say, “I’m always breaking hearts, but this is different. I know I haven’t been compromised because there would’ve been at least one alert on my safety measures in place. But we think we know who it is.”
This gets Braxton’s attention, and he leans back in his chair.
“We think it might be her ex-boyfriend. We want to bring him back to town and get some answers from him.”
Braxton looks confused. “So why do you need me?”
“We want to throw them off the scent,” Hawke says around a mouthful of pasta. “I’m not happy about not killing him either.”
I roll my eyes. “We want it to go public that he’s been caught. We want answers. If it’s who I think it is, he’s not smart enough to be behind this. He’s just a tool. Literally. I think there’s more to this than we know.”
“So why are you making it your problem? Didn’t you get the paycheck?” Hope asks. She knows that’s always how I’ve been. I don’t ask questions, and I don’t go digging further. This time it’s different. My throat feels like it’s constricting. Because I now know what it feels like to be helpless and out of sorts. I might not have agreed with Makayla, but she was my friend at one point, and she deserved more than this.
“She was my friend,” I answer. “I know it doesn’t sit right with you either when men take advantage of women. It might just be a hunch, but I feel like there’s more to this.”
“I can understand the sentiment,” Braxton says as he looks at Hope and I know he’s talking about her and the months he tracked her every step, finally uncovering her secrets. “So my role in this is to take him after you get answers from him, and put him on public display, and then take the glory of finding the culprit so the big fish don’t realize you’re on his tail. Correct?”