Chapter Seven

RAYA

After spending the night with Maxwell, I woke up feeling both comforted and conflicted. The warmth of his body beside mine, the strength in his arms as they held me close, made me feel secure in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. But as much as I wanted to stay cocooned in this temporary sanctuary, I knew I had a decision to make—a decision that could change everything. One thing had become clear to me as I lay there, listening to the rhythm of Maxwell's breathing: I was done being controlled. Done letting fear dictate my actions. I had come too far, overcome too much. I wasn't that scared, broken girl anymore. I was stronger now, and it was time to start acting like it.

Carefully, I slipped out from under Maxwell's arm, trying not to wake him as I gathered my clothes from the floor. I dressed quietly, my mind made up. I was going to confront Burt. Tell him I was done. Whatever the consequences, I'd face them head-on. I wouldn't let anyone use my past against me anymore. And as for Maxwell…I wasn't sure what the future held, but I knew I was falling for him. I could feel it in every fiber of my being, and I was done pretending otherwise.

Maxwell stirred as I finished dressing, his eyes blinking open as he reached for me. "Raya?" His voice was thick with sleep, a soft smile curving his lips. "Where are you going?"

I leaned down to kiss him, a brief, tender press of my lips against his. "I have to take care of something," I said softly, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. "See you later?"

He frowned, his brows drawing together in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just…something I need to do. I'll explain later, okay?"

He didn't look convinced, but he nodded, his hand trailing down my arm to catch my fingers in his. "All right," he said. "Your car is in the garage. I'll have someone bring it around front whenever you're ready," he said, his voice still laced with sleep.

I nodded, feeling a pang of guilt twist in my stomach. I didn't deserve his kindness, not after everything I'd done, everything I'd hidden from him. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth, at least not right now.

As I slipped out of bed and gathered my clothes, I could feel Maxwell's eyes on me, watching every movement. I dressed quietly, the morning air cool against my skin. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, his bare chest exposed, and I had to force myself not to get lost in the sight of him.

I had to stay focused. I had to remember why I was doing this.

"I'll call for your car," he said, sliding out of bed and pulling on his pants. "Unless you'd like to stay for breakfast?"

I shook my head. "No, I should go." My voice was barely above a whisper.

Maxwell didn't push, just nodded and reached for his phone. A few moments later, he told me my car would be out front when I was ready.

***

The drive back to my apartment was a blur. The city rushed past me, a wash of colors and sounds that barely registered. All I could think about was the decision I had made. I wasn't going to let anyone control me anymore, not Burt, not the FBI, not my past, and not my fear. I had to take back control of my life, no matter the cost.

When I got home, Trina was still asleep, her bedroom door slightly ajar. I slipped into the bathroom, trying to gather my thoughts, trying to figure out how to tell Burt that I was done spying on Maxwell. I splashed cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

By the time I finished getting ready, Trina was up, yawning as she shuffled into the kitchen. She ignored me at first and started making coffee, her movements slow and deliberate. I watched her, feeling a pang of guilt. She was my best friend, and I had dragged her into my mess when she didn't deserve it.

"Morning," she finally said glancing up at me, her voice rough from sleep. She poured herself a cup of coffee and offered me one. I shook my head, my stomach too knotted to even think about drinking anything.

"Morning," I replied, my voice tight.

She gave me a curious look. "You okay?"

I nodded quickly, too quickly. "Yeah, just…I've got a lot to do today."

She didn't press further, but I could tell things were still off between us. I needed to get out of the apartment, needed to clear my head. I grabbed my phone and sent Burt a text, telling him I needed to see him urgently. His reply was quick, telling me to come by his office with whatever I had.

As I headed out the door, Trina called after me, "Have a nice day."

I looked back at her and forced a smile, nodding as I walked out. I wasn't sure if she meant it in a general sense or if she knew more than she was letting on. Either way, her words echoed in my mind as I drove to Burt's office, the knot in my stomach tightening with every mile.

But when I got there, I was met with flashing lights, police cars blocking off the street, and a crowd of onlookers gathered around the entrance. My heart plummeted, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong…Something was very wrong.

I parked my car and got out, weaving through the crowd, trying to get closer. I could see the black and yellow crime scene tape, the officers keeping people back. My heart pounded in my chest, a sick feeling rising in my throat.

"What happened?" I asked a woman standing nearby, her face pale as she clutched her purse.

"They said…they said someone shot themselves," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Shot themselves? My mind raced, my thoughts colliding into each other in a frantic mess. No, it couldn't be. Burt wouldn't…he wouldn't do that.

I pushed my way closer, ignoring the officers' warnings to stay back. My eyes locked on the stretcher being wheeled out of the building, the body covered with a blood-soaked sheet. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All I could see was the blood, the crimson stain spreading across the white fabric.

And then a corner of the sheet fell back, and I saw his face. Burt's face, pale and lifeless, the wound in his skull glaring at me like an accusation. I stumbled back, my legs giving out as I hit the pavement. No, no, no. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

But it was. Burt was dead. And now I knew for certain that Johnny's death hadn't been accidental. He'd been murdered, and now someone had just killed Burt too, minutes before I arrived.

I scrambled back to my car, my hands shaking so badly I could barely get the keys into the ignition. My mind was racing, trying to piece together what was happening, but nothing made sense. Who was behind this? Who would want Burt dead? And why?

Maxwell's face flashed in my mind, the way he had looked at me this morning, so kind, so understanding. But what if it was all an act? What if he was behind all of this? My heart ached at the thought, but I couldn't ignore the possibility. I had seen the photos, the armed men. Was he working with the cartels after all? Had Burt been right?

I pulled out my phone and texted Maxwell, my hands trembling as I typed out the message:

Something's happened.

His response was almost immediate:

Where are you? Are you all right?

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. Could I trust him? Should I tell him where I was? But before I could decide, my phone rang. It was Maxwell.

I hesitated for a moment, then answered the call, my voice shaky. "Hello?"

"Raya, what's going on? Are you okay?" His voice was filled with concern, and it made my heart twist.

"I'm…I'm fine," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Raya, listen to me," Maxwell said, his voice firm. "Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"No," I blurted out, panic rising in my chest. "I don't…I don't want to see you right now."

There was a pause, and I could hear the confusion in his voice when he spoke again. "I don't understand. What's happened?"

I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They spilled down my cheeks as I confessed everything, my words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "An FBI agent named Burt Stamford caught me trespassing on your property. I was picking raspberries for my cocktails, but I didn't know…I didn't know what I was getting into. He uncovered my past, used it to blackmail me into spying on you. I'm sorry, Maxwell. I didn't see another way out."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and I held my breath, waiting for his response.

"I knew you were sneaking around," he finally said, his voice quiet. "I just didn't know who you were working for, or why. But I knew you were innocent, Raya. Someone was using you, and I was just waiting for you to trust me enough to tell me the truth, to allow me to help you."

My heart ached at his words, and I could feel the guilt gnawing at me. "I'm so sorry, Maxwell. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

My voice cracked, and the tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. My mind was spinning, a chaotic whirl of fear, guilt, and confusion.

"Raya, listen to me," Maxwell's voice was firm but gentle, a steadying force in the storm raging inside me. "This doesn't change anything between us. I told you before, I'm falling for you, and that hasn't changed. But I need to know…what was Burt looking for? What did he want from you?"

"I don't know," I whispered, shaking my head even though he couldn't see me. "He never told me exactly what he was after. All I know is that is wanted information about your business."

Maxwell was silent for a long moment. I could hear him breathing, could almost picture him running a hand through his dark hair, trying to piece together what this all meant.

I gulped, my hand trembling as I pressed the phone to my ear. "And now Burt is dead."

"What?" he asked. "How? How do you know this?"

"I…I was going to see him…To tell him I wouldn't let him use me anymore to do his dirty work. That I was done working for him and I didn't care if he went to the press with my past or not. But I…I never got a chance. They're saying it looks like a suicide, but I don't believe it, not after Johnny's death."

"You think I was behind the killings, don't you?" he asked, his tone unreadable.

The question hit me with the force of a battering ram. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the terrible doubt that had been gnawing at me since I saw Burt's body, lifeless on that stretcher. "I don't want to, but I don't know what to think anymore," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I'm terrified, Maxwell. I'm in way over my head."

"Raya, please don't do this," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You need to trust me, now more than ever."

"I want to," I cried, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I really do. But I need time to figure things out. I need to get my head on straight."

He was silent for a moment, and I could hear the pain in his voice when he spoke again. "What are you saying, Raya?"

"I don't want to see you right now," I said, my heart breaking as I forced the words out. "I just…I need some space."

"Raya, no," he protested, his voice urgent, desperate. "Please, don't do this. You could be in serious danger, and not having me by your side… you're putting yourself at risk. I can't let that happen."

"I can handle myself," I replied, though the words felt hollow. "I don't need you to take care of me."

"I'm not trying to take care of you, I'm trying to protect you," he insisted.

"I need time," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Raya…"

I hung up before he could say anything else, the sound of the disconnecting line echoing in my ears. I dropped the phone onto the passenger seat, my hands cold and shaking as I gripped the steering wheel. My heart was racing, my chest tight with the weight of everything that had just happened. I felt like I was drowning, suffocating under the pressure of it all.

Zayn had asked me to come in early to Sweet Cocktails to restock the VIP room bar and meet with him afterward to discuss future promotions for my raspberry martini. I drove to the bar, grateful for the distraction of having somewhere to go and something to do. I needed the familiarity of the place, the routine, the escape.

When I arrived, the parking lot was nearly empty. It was still early—too early for the regulars to start trickling in. I parked in my usual spot and made my way inside, the familiar scent of alcohol and polished wood hitting me as soon as I stepped through the door. It was a comfort, in a way, a reminder that there were still things in my life that hadn't spiraled out of control.

Anything to keep my mind off the horrible house of mirrors that had become my life. I grabbed a box of glassware from the storeroom and headed upstairs, the silence of the empty bar pressing in around me.

As I started restocking the shelves, I tried to focus on the task at hand, to lose myself in the simple, repetitive motions. But my mind kept drifting back to Burt, to the image of his lifeless body on that stretcher, to the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of my stomach.

***

I was so lost in thought that I didn't even notice when I knocked a tray of glasses off the counter. They shattered on the floor, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet room. I cursed under my breath, kneeling down to pick up the pieces.

As I reached under one of the tables, my hand brushed against something small and hard. I frowned, my fingers closing around the object as I pulled it out to get a better look. It was a tiny device, no bigger than a matchbox, with a small antenna protruding from one end.

A chill ran down my spine as I realized what it was—a listening device. Someone had been spying on Maxwell and his associates last night.

I gasped, dropping the device as if it had burned me. My heart was pounding in my chest, a sick feeling of dread settling over me. Who had put it there? Who had been listening to their conversations, and why?

"Raya?" Zayn's voice startled me, and I jumped, the broken glass scattering across the floor. I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his dark eyes locked on me, on the bug in my hand.

I felt a cold sweat break out across my skin as I stared at him, realization dawning on me with terrifying clarity. It was him. It had been Zayn all along.

"You found it," he said, his voice calm, almost casual, as if we were discussing the weather and not the fact that he had been spying on me.

"Why?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "What were you after? Did you kill Johnny? Burt?"

He didn't answer, just stepped closer, his hand slipping into his jacket. I saw the glint of metal, the gun, before he pulled it out and pointed it at me.

My breath caught in my throat, fear flooding my veins. "Zayn…please, don't do this."

But he just smiled, a cold, cruel smile that sent a shiver down my spine. "It didn't have to be this way, Raya. It really didn't. But now you've given me no choice."

I screamed and turned to run, but he was faster. His hand closed around my wrist, yanking me back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of me. I struggled against him, but he was too strong, his grip like iron as he pulled me toward the door.

"Let me go!" I cried, my voice hoarse with panic.

But he didn't listen. He just tightened his grip on me, his other hand still holding the gun, the barrel pointed directly at my chest.

My mind was racing, desperate for a way out, but there was none. I was trapped, alone, and completely at his mercy.

"Please," I begged, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. "Please don't do this."

But he just smiled again, that cold, heartless smile that made my blood run cold.

"You should have stayed out of it, Raya," he said, his voice low and menacing. "But now, you're going to pay the price."