Page 21

Crew

L ying has always bothered me. Even if hiding the note left in Olivia’s apartment is the right thing to do, I still hate the taste it leaves in my mouth.

I was right about this job:

Someone’s targeting the Hughes. .. and my gut is telling me Harvey knows why.

Why else would he ask that we keep the note from his daughter?

As soon as we got to the apartment, Olivia showed us the five notes:

A rose is only half as beautiful as you.

Thinking about you.

Do you think about me too?

Always on my mind.

What would Daddy say if he knew you hid me away?

The typed script is carved on thick, creme stationary. I could try to track the penmanship, but tracing the ink or the paper is going to be damn near impossible even if I did know how to do it myself.

The note that was left last night however…

Secrets kill.

It was a warning.

It all points to Harvey, and it means he still hasn’t been honest with me.

I stare out of my car as I drive. The letters burn a hole in the pocket of my khakis. They have since I left Olivia’s apartment last night and went home to research things a bit more. I know what I need to do. Every bone in my body is telling me the same damn thing:

Get out while you still can.

Because it's two times now that Harvey Hughes has lied to me. Two chances, and that’s more than I’ve ever given anyone else. I should tell Taylor what I’m thinking.

As I grip the steering wheel, pulling into the parking garage of Olivia’s apartment, I’m left with another bout of indecision.

What’s keeping me here?

I key out of the car, the gun at my hip a steady weight as I take the stairs to ground level. The market is just waking up, the commotion like the calm before a storm. I know the routine well. I remember opening shifts as a bartender that felt the same. I knew that job like the back of my hand. I’d have a place there if I needed it, but it would be a huge step backward. I steel myself against the thought.

The stairs to Olivia’s apartment feel taller today. I take them slowly, and when I finally key into the apartment, I try not to think about the image of her, wearing a dress of cerulean blue stained with blood.

Taylor stands in the kitchen, lifting his chin in greeting. My eyes track to the bucket of soapy water in the hallway to my left. A scrub pad lays abandoned on the ground, the sound of water running in the bathroom.

“She’s been cleaning all morning. Hasn’t slept,” Taylor says around a swig of water. When he sees a tray of coffee in my hands, he gives a sheepish grin. “You really don’t want to owe me that favor, do you?”

“Not if I can help it.” I deposit the coffee on the counter, rolling my neck to ease the tension.

“What’d you get from Harvey?”

“Not enough.”

“Did he have any clue about the note?”

Just the mention of it makes anger burn in my chest. He isn’t planning on telling Olivia about it, and while I wouldn’t normally get in the middle of family drama, she deserves to know the truth.

“He says he doesn’t know who it’s from. Or what it means.”

“Is he going to tell Olivia?”

“He should.” There’s no hiding the edge to my voice.

“But he won’t,” Taylor finishes, and I grip the counter so hard my knuckles go white. “Got it.”

There’s clanging in the bathroom and the distinct sound of a bucket of water splashing over. “She has a gig at ten, doesn’t she?”

“Yep,” he says, dropping the keys into my hand and taking his coffee. “Like I said, she hasn’t slept.”

It’s seven now. This job will be the death of me , I think with a sigh.

“I’ll see you tonight. I think it’s better if we both cover the events this weekend. I can cover one of your night shifts this week to cover the hours.”

He nods. “Sure. Monday? More time with the wife.”

“Works for me.”

He salutes in departure, and I find myself alone in the apartment with her.

“Shit,” I hear her curse.

I stand in the hall, watching as she mixes some laundry detergent with a cold bucket of water. She’s wearing a pair of shorts that show off her toned legs and a baggy tee shirt that’s covered in stains. It’s now the distinct color of fading blood.

She wipes a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand before glancing up at me with a huff. “Hey.”

She’s not smiling now. I can see the exhaustion, the worry, carved into every soft line of her.

“Need a break?” I ask cautiously, aware that any wrong move could break the delicate dynamic we’ve got going.

She shakes her head. “I need to get her blood out of my carpet.”

I have a feeling if she takes another look at it, she’ll be a lot like she was just nights ago.

“Okay,” I tell her, extending her a cup of coffee before taking the bucket. For a moment, she gapes and then a small smile spreads her lips as I kneel over the stain, wet the spot, and begin scrubbing.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on, Princess. I know you’re not that sleep deprived,” I say under my breath.

Her eyes flicker at the nickname, but she shrugs, smelling the coffee before taking a sip. “I might be.”

“Then drink up.”

I can feel her looking at me, but I refuse to name the look on her face. I have the distinct feeling that if I do, I might rethink quitting this job.

“You know…” I hear her smiling now. “Beneath the whole ‘ I hate everyone ’ ‘ don’t talk to me ’ thing you have going, I think you might secretly be a sweetheart, Warden.”

I shake my head, glad that my face is hidden. “I don’t want to owe anyone favors.”

“Right,” she laughs. “The favors thing between you and Taylor. Somehow, I always end up with a coffee. I love my life.”

“Do you?” I ask before I can stop myself. I glance over my shoulder at her. “Love your life.”

The question catches her off-guard, making her eyes widen. She quickly recovers, kneeling across from me. “There’s a lot to love.”

“Even though you have two bodyguards you hate?”

“Hey, I actually really like Taylor.”

The look on her face tells me she’s messing with me, and at the implication- the idea that maybe I’m not so bad either- I smirk. “He’s a good guy.”

I mean it too.

One of the best men I know.

“Mhmm. Lydia lucked out. He’s one of the good ones.”

So, they have talked. Somehow, the idea is grating .

I clear my throat. “Have you heard anything about Chesna?” I ask abruptly, and she flips her hair back again, sipping her coffee.

“No.” The smile is gone, and I almost wish I hadn’t said anything. “Look, last night-”

“Nothing like that will ever happen again.”

She sighs. “I just don’t understand why it happened.”

I want to tell her the truth. But I can’t. Not without directly defying Harvey- my boss. No matter how much I disagree with it.

“Another conversation for your father. I can’t…” I stop myself from revealing more, from confirming more than I should have.

“He is hiding something then.”

Goddammit.

She must see the look on my face because she nods. “I guess that will be a conversation for later.”

I stop scrubbing to watch the look of acceptance settle over her. “Is he coming by?”

She reaches for more of the soapy water, dumping a handful over the reddened carpet. “He’s bringing dinner over Monday night.”

I can only guess that wasn’t her decision, but I don’t comment on it. Instead, I motion to her, her hands red from scrubbing at this mess all morning. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll take care of this.”

“You don’t-“

She tries to object, but I shake my head, mind already made. “We can spend the next thirty minutes arguing about it or you can shower, get some caffeine, and relax a bit before this wedding.” I eye her, and while she looks entirely ready to attempt the former, she deflates.

“Okay… Thank you.”

I watch her as she stands before I focus my attention on the mess again. “Don’t mention it."