Page 101 of The Lies We Tell
Weicker leans back in his chair. “You’re giving up an exceptional career, Ryker.”
I smile. “Let me ask you that question again. If this were your wife, how far would you go to keep her safe?”
Davis blusters into the room. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he shouts.
I don’t answer. I simply look to Weicker, to see if my friend will come through for me, or whether he will protect himself.
“Well?” Davis says, walking closer. “We’re having to clean up this mess, talking to prosecutors to see what we have that is worth charging because you recklessly blew your cover.”
I still don’t say anything.
Weicker draws in a breath and looks at me with a stare that conveys that while he obviously thinks I’m an asshole, he’s here for me. “Sit down, Davis. There’s shit you don’t know.”
“There better fucking had be.” He grunts as he sits.
And from there out, I let Weicker lead.
Four brutal hours later, it’s settled. Before my resignation is official, I’m going to update all my reports, which I plan to amend to minimize all intelligence. I roll back what I know, anything I can feasibly get my hands on. I know the rules of evidence tampering, but I also know how to do it so subtly that it will go unnoticed for years, which is how long it will take to arrest, charge, and then await trial. By then I’ll be long forgotten and out of the system.
When I get back to her apartment, Briar is sitting at the small round table by the window, her tablet in front of her. She’s sketching some scene for what looks like a book cover.
“One Day Like This?” I ask, peering over her shoulder before kissing her neck.
“Hmm” she says, tilting to the left so I can get the spot behind her ear that always makes her shiver. “It’s a rock star romance. Best friend’s little sister.”
“Is that what it sounds like?” I slide my arms around her.
“If you think it means the rock star hero fucks his best friend’s little sister, then yes.”
I laugh. “I don’t want to think of anyone fucking my little sister.”
“Which is why the trope works.” She places her pencil, a stylus that she gushed about having pixel-perfect precision, down on the table.
When she smiles at me and touches my cheek, my heart trips like it always does around her. “How did it go?”
“We have a plan. And I’m out at the end of the week.”
I feel the air leave her lungs. “Good.”
“Why don’t you go put on something nice? I’ll even trim this,” I say, smoothing my hand over my beard.“Then let me take you out for dinner.”
Briar glances out the window, a frown on her face. “Is it safe to do that?”
I shrug. “The Outlaws don’t hang here. Cillian lives over in Brooklyn. It’s a coincidence he saw us that day. I want a date with you. A normal one. We don’t need to go far or fancy.” I take her hands. “Just come make a memory with me, Bri. One that doesn’t involve anything other than the two of us.”
She softens at my words, then looks down at the leggings and the hoodie of mine she’s wearing. “I should shower and change.”
I tug the hoodie over her head. She’s naked beneath. Not even a bra. Does it make my cock hard to think of her nipples brushing up against my hoodie all day? You bet your fucking ass it does.
“I’ll do you a deal. You clean me and I’ll clean you. Then I’ll take you out to dinner.”
Briar smiles as her tension eases. “Okay. Deal. As long as that’s a euphemism for shower sex.”
I take her wrist and lead her to the small bathroom. “It can be a euphemism for whatever you want it to be.”
36
BRIAR
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