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“I trust you,” she said. “I don’t know why I do, but for some reason, I do. I know you’ll keep me safe.”
My heart rose and dived at the same time. She was talking about our deal. She was saying she trusted me with her safety, and while I was happy with that, I wanted more.
I wanted her to trust me with her heart.
But that wasn’t something that could be forced, so I would just need to prove to her that I wouldn’t break it.
* * *
The next day,on my way home, I received a stressed-out call from my brother.
“We have a problem.”
“Which is?” I probed, ready to get to the point.
“Kyle Young turned up dead,” he said.
The news had me swearing up a storm in the car. Young was yet another petty enemy of mine. Now dead.
“Shit.”
“It gets worse.” Chris’ voice was morose. “They found something at the crime scene.”
“What is it?” My brother didn’t seem to want to say it, but I got tired of waiting, so I growled, “Spit it out.”
“Remember those custom-made cufflinks I got for your birthday two years ago?”
“Yes,” I said. It was one of my favorite cufflinks. I discovered at a young age that I had a penchant for shiny things, and the more exclusive they were, the better. Those cufflinks were so exclusive that they only made three of their kind in the world, and I owned all of them.
“Please don’t tell me they found them at the crime scene,” I said with a groan, finally figuring out what my brother was probably alluding to.
“They found them at the crime scene,” he confirmed, dashing my hopes.
“Shit,” I cursed. “You sure it’s mine? It could be anyone’s.”
“They have your initials on them.”
“Fuck.” Why on earth did I have a penchant for stamping my initials on everything?
“It’s only a matter of time before they come for you,” Chris warned as if I didn’t already know how fucked I was.
“Yeah, I figure, genius.”
“Did you kill him?”
The question was asked so tentatively as if Chase knew it was a stupid question but had to ask anyway. I paused. “Do you think I would be fucking dumb enough to kill someone and leave evidence behind?”
“No,” he answered. “But all this is starting to look very bad. You need to tell me the truth so I know how to help you.”
“Fuck off before you piss me off,” I spat before hanging up. Then, I started racking my brain. Someone was clearly trying to frame me. But why? If it were one of my enemies, wouldn’t it be easier and faster to kill me? If it were the cops, wouldn’t it be more convenient to plant something and then come and arrest me?
Besides, I didn’t think the cops would go this far. They were scumbags, but killing civilians in cold blood wasn’t their MO.
I needed to figure out who this new enemy was and what the fuck they wanted.
Tension knotted in my neck.
Someone had to have stolen the cufflinks, but who. When did I last see them? For a second, my mind flashed to Emily. Was this her doing? Was she the one framing me?
