Page 20 of Behind the Scenes

As if on cue, loud sirens broke through the night air.

“And would you look at that,” Harley said and forced my head to look back into the dark alley. “It’s all on camera. So be careful about what you tell the cops when they find you here.”

I could see the small red light flickering in the darkness.

Are you fucking kidding me?

“The footage doesn’t show anything damning,” I forced out. “It was done before I even showed up here. I didn’t touch?—"

“Really?” she asked, her voice dropping. “Or does it show you and your lover colluding to murder him?” As if to emphasize her point, she leaned forward and dragged her lips across my neck.

“You know what those detectives will think,” she whispered in my ear. Her voice was seductive, her tone playful. She knew she had me. “You know how much they hate you. They will look for any way to bring you down.”

Adrenaline pumped through my veins. My mind went intooverdrive. I had no friends in the NYPD. Not with a career like mine. They would love this.

Harley was forcing my hand. If she went down, so would I.

So many things pointed at me, but what was going through my mind wasn’t even my own safety. It was Ax’s.

This wasmyspot. He was a prosecutor onmyclient’s case. And without me, she would lose.

I couldn’t leave.

I dug into my bag and pulled out a scarf and my keys.

“Meet me at my apartment,” I said. “This is… mutually beneficial. Don’t think youhaveme in any way, shape, or form.”

She gave me a shit-eating grin as she pulled away.

“Whatever you say, darling.” She grabbed the scarf from me and wiped the blood off my face with it before wrapping it around her neck.

She leaned forward, her lips brushing across my forehead, before turning and disappearing down the alley. Her actions had my face aflame.

I took a deep breath, centering myself.

The things I do for my clients.

Then, I let out a blood-curdling scream.

laura

. . .

By the time I made it to my apartment, my feet were aching, and I had a pounding headache. All I wanted was to go to bed.

I had almost forgotten that I had invited the psychopath in.

Low music was playing. The house smelled like fresh rain and linen, one of my favorite candles.

And there was Harley, in all of her glory, sitting at the table with two glasses of wine in front of her and a tray of cheese and crackers.

She looks very at home in a stranger’s apartment.

And not at all like she had just killed someone.

I didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed. Especially after the cops had grilled the ever-loving shit out of me.

I had a notoriously bad relationship with most of them. I didn’t keep my hate for them hidden. They were useless and most of the time just made my job and my clients’ lives harder.