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I glance where he points to see Detective Carter glaring at me from across the room. If looks could kill, I’d be goo on the floor. I return the same glare, wishing I could do the same to him too.
“Fine.” I stand up and turn around, placing my hands behind my back like I’ve seen on television shows.
The officer unlocks the door to let Hunter in to cuff me, but he mutters, “Your funeral, man.”
The idea that he thinks Hunter can’t cuff me by himself gives me a small bit of twisted joy. Even down and broken, I’m strong.
Chapter 27
Connor
Poppy is asleep on the floor of the cell when we come out of the captain’s office. Hunter tells me to trust him and that he’ll do right by her, but I know I’m not going to see her for a while. I have to take a step back while Hunter handles things. That’s his job . . . he’s my handler when I’m undercover. And closing this huge case could be career-making for both of us. But that doesn’t matter when I see Poppy curled up on her side, fast asleep.
She’s right. I did that to her.
Before that dinner, she was a successful writer with a little bit of writer’s block, living her best life. And now . . . she’s fighting to stay on steady ground at every turn and still getting blind-sided.
By me.
Worst of all, I know she still hasn’t finished her fucking book. At least I could have let her do that.
I’ve wanted to tell her the truth for so long. Since that first night over pizza, I wanted to let her in. I knew I could trust her, could confide in her. But that’s not the gig, and I know it. This isn’t my first rodeo, dealing with the stress of this life. I’ve lived a series of lies for so long that sometimes it's hard to remember where the truth ends and the lies begin . . . or if they’re all the same thing.
All I’ve been able to focus on is the job and the adrenaline. And then I found her. I remember every smile and frown, every secret shared, and everything I felt. Feel. Everything I . . . feel.
I hate to do it—it physically pains me—but I walk out of the police station to my truck and leave her there. I have to trust that Hunter will stick to his word and get her out of there.
As I walk up to my truck, I remember something . . . or someone.
JP was supposed to be waiting in the truck with Poppy when we got here, but he didn’t come in with her and the truck is empty. My gut sinks, and I scan the parking lot, looking for any sign of trouble. Cautiously, I open the door and get in, checking to make sure he hasn’t lain down in the back seat to hide and fallen asleep like Poppy did. But no.
I don’t see JP anywhere, but I find a scribbled note on the back of a receipt sitting on the console.
Do not look for me. I told you what I know. I am taking my family somewhere we can be safe. We have started over before, and we can do it again. Be well, my friend.
I clench the note in my hand, crumpling the paper. I look around once more, hoping to see JP somewhere nearby. The truth is that people will keep looking for him. Men like Hunter, who deserves his first name in many ways. But part of me hopes that there are always going to be bigger fish to fry than Juan Pablo. I meant it when I told him that men like me and him are minnows, and the people in power want the big fish.
When I don’t see him, I say out loud, “You too, my friend. Be well.”
I hope that somehow, he hears me.
I go to Poppy’s place to let Nut and Juice out. They jump on my legs, but when I give them a few pets, they do eventually piss in the grass. Back inside, I get to work. I have a lot to do while Hunter closes this case.
Poppy
“Are you sure he’s gone?” I ask Hunter. I pat my pockets, but I’m out of gum, and my mouth feels nasty. “Gimme some gum.”
Hunter fishes a few pieces out of his pocket and passes a stick over. He pops one into his own mouth too and nods silently.
He does that a lot. If Connor is the King of the Glare, Hunter is the Silent but Deadly sort. Kind of like a fart, but way worse because when Hunter stays silent, I talk to fill the space, and I think he’s annoyed with me to the point of tuning me out.
