Page 26 of Hate So Deep (Hate #4)

NOW

Lauren

The following morning, I wake with a headache that persists through my shower and hasn’t waned by the time I stumble downstairs for breakfast.

I’m still reeling over the shit my mother spouted and it’s completely shitty because her cruelty ruined the night before Colt’s wedding.

We may not get along but even I know that’s some sick shit and my stomach roils at the implications.

What did she do and does my dad know about it?

To my surprise, I find Dirk in the kitchen when I enter and come to a stop before taking in the real estate.

Wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, my eyes are drawn to a new tattoo that covers his chest and wraps around his navel.

What I presume to be an ancient language of some kind, I can only wonder what it says while I admire his pecs, the lovely skin of his abdominal muscles before stopping on the thin trail of hair disappearing into the band of his shorts.

I touched that skin once…ran my hands over the ridges of his abs and my fingers tingle to recreate the memory when he shifts, and I glance up.

Those deep dark eyes blaze at me and I bite my lip, my veins liquifying.

He takes one step toward me before the refrigerator door, which I hadn’t noticed open, swings closed, and Kayla says, “Should we make breakfast for everyone, babe?”

Of course, as soon as she speaks, the fire in his eyes banks and he turns to her to say, “Sure.”

When Kayla looks beyond his shoulder, her eyes narrow before she says, “Good. We worked up an appetite this morning. I need you ready for round two.”

Does she know that he held me last night after I lost my mind? Did he go to her after?

Maybe he told her about me, and they laughed about the situation…Princess Lauren, finally having her comeuppance.

This is when any residual desire I might have been foolishly harboring blinks out and I back out of the room.

Although Dirk swings around, I avoid his gaze when thank God, my phone buzzes against my ass.

“Hello?” I mumble.

“Ms. Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“This is Detective Adams from Northside PD, do you have a minute to talk?”

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Meeting Dirk’s eyes, I falter before turning away and whispering, “Um, yes.”

I’m halfway down the hall and almost to the living room when I turn and find him practically breathing down my neck.

“We need you to come down to the station,” the detective says while I wave my hand at Dirk.

He merely raises a brow to which I grunt my frustration.

“You okay, Ms. Stark?” the detective asks.

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. I think maybe it’s not a good time to talk,” I rasp, moving toward the bathroom.

“Look, something has come up. We really need to speak in person,” he says.

Did they find out something new? Maybe they finally spoke to Gage and think that I left with my brother that night.

Once I’m in the bathroom, I close the door, smiling with all my teeth when Dirk frowns as I shut it in his face.

“I’m…I don’t think I can today. My brother’s getting married. Maybe tomorrow?” I say, leaning my forehead against the cool wood.

“I really think we should speak now. Why don’t you give me your address, and I’ll come to you?”

Shaking my head even though he can’t see me, I say, “No, that’s not going to work. How about we meet somewhere else?”

After he agrees, I hang up and stare at the door before rolling my eyes.

I’m a grown ass adult. I don’t need an excuse to leave the house but if anyone asks…I’m just getting some coffee. Yep, that’s what I’m doing.

Dirk is gone when I emerge thank god but when I tiptoe around to the front door, I find him standing in the entryway with a feral grin on his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Um, just going out,” I mutter and his eyes narrow while I eye the cup of coffee in his hand.

Better hydrate for round two, dick.

Shit. Focus Lala. You have more important things to worry about.

“Out? Where?” he asks.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I need a latte,” I grit through my teeth.

Cocking his head, he eyes me for a minute before he opens the front closet and pulls out a coat.

When he hands it to me, I say, “This isn’t mine.”

“Don’t care. Put it on,” he says, setting down his cup to grab a pair of slippers.

“Look,” I say. “I-I just need a few minutes.”

After shoving his oversized feet into the tiny fur lined boots, he pulls another coat off the hanger and slides it on as I say, “What are you doing?”

The answer becomes obvious when he opens the door, waving outside, and I shake my head, saying, “You’re not going.”

“Oh, but I am,” he says with a gleam in his eyes. “I find that I’m craving a cup of coffee, too.”

My eyes slide to the coffee on the table, and he grunts, “Good coffee.”

“You look completely ridiculous in that,” I sneer as I shove my arms through the sleeves of the coat.

He does, although even wearing a women’s coat, three sizes too small with fur around the collar doesn’t detract from his sheer half naked masculinity.

Asshat.

Ignoring my petulant comment, he stalks over to his souped-up black truck before opening the door and gesturing inside.

“You don’t need to go,” I say, and he rolls his eyes before picking me up and setting me on the seat.

After he slams the door, I glance down at my slippers with a groan before saying when he gets in on his side, “What’s the damn rush?”

“You wanted good coffee, didn’t you?” he asks, and I cringe away from his flinty stare.

Shaking his head, he starts the truck before backing down the drive.

Once we’re on the road, he growls, “I don’t trust you.”

Tipping my head back I laugh and say, “What are you implying, asshole?”

“Whatever’s going on, better not have anything to do with my friends, Lauren. I fucking mean it.”

What does he think I’m going to do? Hire hit men to take them out.

At the thought, I shiver and turn away.

“Any special place in mind for coffee ?” he sneers, and I give him the address.

It’s silent the first half of the drive until he says, “Where are we really going?”

Eyeing him sideways, I finally ask, “I need to know if you drove me home that night…the night my brother was attacked.”

I have to clarify because he’s a dick who apparently doesn’t remember the last time we had sex.

Asshole.

I wouldn’t be asking at all but it sure would make my life a lot easier if he said yes and we could report it to the police officer waiting for me at the diner.

“No,” he says, and my stomach drops because fuck my life, I am so screwed. “Why?”

Shaking my head, I close my eyes only to blink them back open when Dirk says, “Why, Lauren? What are you not saying?”

“I think I hurt my brother, okay,” I blurt, and the car lurches before he hits the gas again.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

That’s what I’d like to know.

“I was with him that night,” I say, and he frowns.

“So?”

“I–” Rubbing my brow, I drop my head and mumble, “Do you think I could have hurt him?”

“No. Not possible.”

“How do you know?”

While I want to believe him, I don’t know how. He wasn’t there. How could he possibly know?

“For one, you’re not strong enough. Two, if you were as drunk as you’re describing, how could you have gotten to where he was?”

“I don’t even know where he was,” I mumble.

“My point exactly.”

Shaking my head, I stare at the windshield before asking, “How do you know I’m not strong enough?”

Waving his hand, he growls, “Your brother was beaten nearly to death and fucking impaled on something. Unless he was completely incapacitated and you used a weapon, it’s not possible.”

What…?

He was impaled? Holy shit!

Eyeing him sideways I contemplate his words before asking softly, “How do you know how bad his injuries were?”

From the corner of my eye, I see his fingers curl into a fist before he smirks and says, “Your brother heard it from your dad.”

Ignoring the kernel of unease, I shrug and say, “I guess it doesn’t matter what you think. The police do.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” he growls. “Why would they think that?”

“Because, apparently, we texted that night and he agreed to bring me home. The weird thing is that I deleted the conversation.”

When Dirk turns to me, his eyes wide, I laugh helplessly and say, “Why would I delete a text like that?”

“Jesus Lauren, none of this makes sense.”

“I know,” I cry, covering my face and we drop back into silence.

It’s not fair to blame him for my bad decisions but he’s the safer bet and I let the anger curl through me before I blow from the vehicle when we pull up to the curb, annoyed when he’s not far behind.

I wouldn’t have drank half a bottle of tequila if he hadn’t brushed me off again that night. The events that followed would never have happened if the callous dick would just leave me the fuck alone.

Unfortunately, the detective is already waiting and gritting my teeth, I slide into the seat opposite while Dirk grabs a chair from another table and plunks it down beside me.

The detective looks from me to Dirk in his ridiculous outfit before holding out his hand. “Detective Adams, NSPD.”

Dirk’s brows furrow as he introduces himself and once the formalities are over, the detective turns to me and says, “There’s been a development in the case.”

Why he couldn’t tell me this over the phone I don’t know but I don’t want to take my frustration out on the man.

“Okay,” I say, as he steeples his fingers before his mouth.

Eyeing the slight wing of silver at his temples, I shift in the uncomfortable chair, while he seems to gather his thoughts.

I feel Dirk’s curiosity practically vibrating between us but I’m in no mood to slake it. The asshole shouldn’t even be here.

“Here’s the thing, Miss Stark. I don’t think Aimee Holmes ever left your house that night.”

When I don’t answer, frozen with fear, the detective’s eyes slide to Dirk before he says, “Maybe we should have this conversation alone?”

A laugh bubbles in my chest, but I bite that shit back because Dirk doesn’t give two shits about my privacy.

Case in point, he leans forward and says, “Get to the point, detective. We don’t have all day.”

This earns him a stony glare which Dirk ignores, sitting back in his seat and raising a brow.

The detective's gaze drops to Dirk’s coat and his lip curls before he says, “You left some information out of your story, Miss Stark.”

My throat dries and I try to summon some spit to speak. Apparently, I’m not quick enough though because the detective says, “I think you’re lying. I don’t know why but now’s the time to tell it straight because I’m not going to be nice the next time.”

“How about you tell us what you found, detective?” Dirk growls and the detective sighs.

“Who’re you again?”

“I’m the guy who’s gonna call bullshit on this because if you had anything on her, you’d be arresting her already,” Dirk says before pushing back his chair. “C’mon, baby girl.”

“Ah yes,” the detective says with a humorless smile. “Dirk Evans. We’ll be having a conversation real soon, you and I.”

A shiver rolls down my spine as I slowly stand. When Dirk grabs my hand, I follow behind him as he spits, “I’m sure you can find my number.”

The ride back to the house is quiet while I stew over the detective's insinuations. Although I’ve worried over the events of that night, I admit, there was always a part of me that didn’t believe it could be me.

Now, I’m well and truly fucked.

What did they find? I wish Dirk hadn’t gone all psycho on the man because maybe he would have told me. Although I admit, I’m glad he did.

I was too fucking scared to do anything but sit there like a lamb waiting for the slaughter.

These thoughts swirl through my brain on repeat and I’m surprised when we pull up to the house but before I can exit, Dirk grabs my arm and says, “Nothing about this makes sense, Lauren. Why are you so afraid?”

“Huh?” I mumble, still in a daze.

“You should have told that asshole to fuck off…”

Turning away, I stare at the window and shrug.

Should I tell him about what Caro said? Was I drugged?

I don’t know but I have no reason to reveal any of this to Dirk. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not even my friend.

“Whatever,” I finally say, and he slams his fist against the wheel.

“Stop fucking lying,” he says, and tears fill my eyes.

“Who’s the real liar, Dirk? Because from where I’m sitting, you wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the face.”

He rears back at that, and I push the door open. I got my answer and that’s that but now what do I do?

I’m freaked the fuck out and I don’t know what to do which is why I give in and say, “I was covered in blood. Okay?”

“What the fuck are you talking about now?” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Snorting, I root around in my bag because stupidly, I forgot I put it there until now.

Once I find it at the bottom, I throw it at his head and hiss, “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t remember shit about that night. I was probably roofied and I woke up wearing that the same night my brother was beaten to death.”

He shakes out the shirt and I look away from it because the sight turns my stomach. Did I hurt Buck or worse…Aimee?

While he digests what I’ve just said, I rub my aching temple and wish that I could have peace for one goddamn minute.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he rasps.

“Who would I tell?” I whisper, grabbing the dash when he slams his fist against the side window.

“This isn’t some juvenile bullshit anymore. Tell me about the blood. You said you woke up covered in it?”

“Yeah.”

“When? Where were you? What do you remember?” he asks, and I peek at him from under my fingers.

“I just woke up,” I say. “There was blood all over me…the shirt. That’s all I know.”

“What the fuck is going on ?”

“That’s what I’d like to know…”

He stares at me blankly before his phone dings. Glancing at the screen, he shakes his head and says, “Whatever happened, you didn’t hurt your fucking brother. Why do you think you were drugged?”

Heat fills my cheeks at my stupidity, and I mumble, “Because Caro said something about it. I think they were selling it to my brother, too.”

The knowledge fills me with shame even though I’m not responsible for my brother and I look away when Dirk runs his hands through his hair and says, “Fuck.”

Silently agreeing, I exit the vehicle when he says, “Go inside that fucking house and don’t leave. I’ll talk to you later.”