“No, I’m sorry,” he said, and I knew what the answer meant. I wasn’t enough.
I’d thought maybe with a fresh start, a real job… But it hadn’t worked out. It was more than a little PTSD and a shitty coincidence at a bookstore. I’d built my life by fucking the men he fought to put behind bars.
“You don’t understand. There’s more to it than just you or me. I can’t risk…”
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. I shouldn’t find him so adorable, shouldn’t trust him. We were enemies, by breed if not inclination. The criminal and the cop, temporarily on a truce, because I couldn’t say no when he had asked me for help. I’d hoped he’d return the favor now that I needed it—more fool me. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. The rules of the street but not for Luke. He followed the law instead.
“Look,” he finally said. “She’ll be as safe at the precinct as anywhere. And you… Let me call this in, and we can go from there.”
“Damn it, Luke.”
“Trust me,” he pleaded.
But I couldn’t. So I plastered on a fake half smile and nodded. Any man would fall for it, and he did. Grimly, I shut him in the bedroom and found Ella rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen. Her expression blanked when she saw me. She lifted her face, like an animal sensing trouble.
“What’s going on?”
Oh, Luke was about to give up our position to his coworkers, some of whom might be on Henri’s payroll. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Yes, lies. What else did we have to work with? The truth had never set me free. None of us were safe. Even Luke could be in danger. If Henri found out we were here, if he sent someone… I peeked out the window and saw only an empty street.
“Shit, you’re making me nervous.” Ella flopped onto the couch.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
I never quite knew why I did it or what I hoped to hear, but I wandered back to the bedroom where the shut door muted the low, strained sound of Luke’s voice.
“Yeah, they’re here. Her and another girl. She won’t give her name, but the description matches.”
Uncertainty unfurled in my belly, but why? Everything was fine, fine.
“Give me an hour. No, don’t send anyone.”
My breath came shorter, and then not at all.
“I’ll bring them in myself.”
I turned to face Ella, whose eyes reflected the fear I felt even though she was too far away to hear. She pointed to the TV. On lead feet, I walked over.
The local news was broadcasting a multiple homicide at an upscale hotel in the city. There were businessmen, and they were dead. Police had two suspects, and then sketches of Ella and me flashed on the screen.
“They think we killed them,” Ella said incredulously. “They set us up.”
It shouldn’t have been possible, but I had underestimated Henri. What better way to punish us than this? And I had overestimated Luke. I felt the betrayal like acid. They must have told him we were wanted for questioning, fugitives, and he would lead them right to us. I was tempted to let him. Let them take me. When I ended up mysteriously dead in the cell, maybe then Luke would see the truth about his precious system. Either way, I would be free of it, bereft of him.
Ella looked to me, her doe eyes frightened and hopeful.
Make this right.
“Come on, then,” I said grimly. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
In two minutes flat, we were out the door, down the stairs, and far away. We were gone, he’d never find us, and I was lost.
Chapter Eight
The streetlights blinked rapid-fire as we hurtled over Chicago’s I-90. I longed to call my best friend, Allie, to hear her daughter babbling in the background, but any contact could put them at risk. Same went for the shelter. We could be followed or traced or any number of scary things, and all I had was a knockoff Prada clutch with my cell phone and two hundred dollars’ cash.
Well, besides Ella. “Are you going to tell me your real name now?”
Her fingers clutched the leather seat. “How about bite me?”
“For someone running low on friends, you’re not very nice.”
“Why should I be nice?” she demanded. “Are you still trying to turn me into a hooker?”
“Still got your pockets full of other people’s stuff?”
She tightened her lips, and then there was only the steady thump, thump, thump as the tires rubbed strips on the road. I drove in a kind of stupor, grateful for the reprieve. I didn’t want to think about the implications of being set up for murder—or how stupid I’d been to trust Luke. I didn’t want to contemplate what my lapse could have cost us, or what it still could if we didn’t get somewhere safe.