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About Tell Me to Lie

There was a time when my debt was the only link we had.

There was a time when I couldn’t tell him how much I loved him and he couldn’t tell me. There was a time when I thought I could never have enough money.

Now, everything is different.

Nicholas Crawford is a stranger who is becoming more strange with every moment.

I used to think I could make a life with him, but now I’m not so sure.

We have been through too much.

But then he takes a step closer.

Then he whispers something into my ear.

Then presses his lips to my mouth.

Suddenly, everything that was wrong starts to feel so right…

Read the EPIC Conclusion to the addictive TELL ME series by bestselling author Charlotte Byrd.

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“Extremely captivating, sexy, steamy, intriguing, and intense!” ★★★★★

“Addictive and impossible to put down.” ★★★★★

“I can’t get enough of the turmoil, lust, love, drama, and secrets!” ★★★★★

“Fast-paced romantic suspense filled with twists and turns, danger, betrayal, and so much more.” ★★★★★

“Decadent, delicious, & dangerously addictive!” - Amazon Review ★★★★★

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Also by Charlotte Byrd

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Wedlocked Trilogy

Dangerous Engagement

Lethal Wedding

Fatal Wedding

Tell me Series

Tell Me to Stop

Tell Me to Go

Tell Me to Stay

Tell Me to Run

Tell Me to Fight

Tell Me to Lie

Tangled Series

Tangled up in Ice

Tangled up in Pain

Tangled up in Lace

Tangled up in Hate

Tangled up in Love

Black Series

Black Edge

Black Rules

Black Bounds

Black Contract

Black Limit

Lavish Trilogy

Lavish Lies

Lavish Betrayal

Lavish Obsession

Standalone Novels

Debt

Offer

Unknown

Dressing Mr. Dalton

1

Nicholas

When they arrest me…

The handcuffs are tight around my wrists but the pain doesn’t come close to the pain that’s surging through my heart. It’s as if Olive stuck an ice pick right through it, splintering it into a million little pieces.

I try to breathe but topple over in pain. The seat in the back of the cop car is vinyl and it feels cool against my body. I look out of the window.

The FBI agents and the local police officers are swarming around my recreational vehicle. I force myself to take another deep breath and search through them for Olive.

Where is she?

Where did they take her?

If only I could get a glimpse of her, then I’d know for sure if she had betrayed me.

Or will I?

They are only here because of her. It was she who has turned me in. It was she who led them here.

At first, I had my doubts about her. I wondered if I should trust her.

I had betrayed her, so what would make me think that she wouldn’t betray me as well? Still, after talking to her on the phone, I got the sense that she believed me.

I run over every word that we said to each other, first on the phone and then in person. I look for clues that she might have been lying, but nothing comes to mind.

It was so nice to reconnect with her. It was so wonderful to hold her in my arms again. I had missed her so much, maybe I had just convinced myself that she was telling the truth.

I close my eyes and imagine my lips on hers.

Her mouth is soft and inviting and everything that she has always been. Was it all a lie? Was our whole relationship nothing but fiction or was it only a lie at the end?

Was this her way of showing me how much I had betrayed her?

It starts to snow.

Big thick flakes fall from the sky. Somebody brings me my coat and boots from the RV. Someone else helps me put them on. Three cops crowd around me as they carefully unlock my wrists, fearing that I’m going to make a run for it.

But I won’t. It would be a suicide mission.

They want to arrest me but they are willing to shoot me.

I may have committed other crimes, but I never killed anyone, let alone my partner or my ex-girlfriend. And I’ll be damned if I let them say that I did, let alone kill me for it.

I may not have much strength now, but I will fight them on this. They will not ruin my name and dirty it up with lies about murder. I never killed anyone and I will not let them put me away for crimes that I didn’t commit.

A cop starts the car and we slowly pull out onto the gravel road. Snow starts to fall faster and faster and the wipers work hard to keep the windshield clean.

Snowplows typically don’t come down this far into the woods and I wonder if the rest of the police force crowding around my RV will get out before the majority of the blizzard sweeps in.

I sit back against the seat and look at the snowflakes dance outside the window. I’ve never been in jail or prison but I’ve heard the stories about lack of outside time.

Will this be the last time that I see the sky?

Is this the last time that I will see snowflakes as a free man?

As we pull out onto the main highway and head toward the police station, my thoughts return to Olive.

What if she didn’t betray me?

What if they were following her and she led them to me by accident?

I unclench my fists and take a breath.

This time my heart doesn’t feel like it’s splintering into a million different pieces.

Okay, I say to myself. Now what?

I take another breath. Deeper this time. The air flows in and out of my lungs and my body starts to relax even more.

Does this mean…what I want it to mean?

Does this mean that maybe she didn’t really betray me?

Maybe they just followed her?

My body certainly seems to think that, and for a moment I let it. But then the rational part of me takes over. This part doesn’t care much for feelings and emotions. The only thing that matters is the likelihood of something being true. And in this case?

Yes, perhaps the FBI did have their eye on her. But would they have followed her all the way from California?

Would she not have noticed them?

How could they have known that she was coming here? We communicated using burner phones so that our calls were untraceable.

My heart starts to tighten again as the truth comes to the surface. Though it’s definitely a possibility that she just led them here, it’s unlikely. What’s more likely is that Olive knew exactly what she was doing. She had betrayed me, on purpose, probably to get back at me for what I did to her.

The interrogation room is as nondescript and empty of all life as the ones you see on television. There are no windows and only one door.

I expect a two-way mirror but they don’t even have that.

Instead, there are two cameras mounted to the ceiling, one facing me (the suspect) and the other facing the interrogator. I’m at the local police station but it is an FBI agent who first comes in.

He is tall and built like a football player, though those days are well behind him. His hair is cut short, straight across the top, a look popular with 1980’s TV movie villains. He asks me a series of questions that I have no intention of answering or even justifying with a response. When he sees that he’s not getting anywhere, he leaves and sends in a replacement.

Scrawny and lean, he doesn’t look much older than thirty and yet I can tell that he has been around the block a few times in his career. He doesn’t give off the same goofy vibe as the other one and appears more threatening with his demeanor. If it were anyone else, perhaps I would have felt that way. The first guy was playing the role of a good cop and this one is definitely the bad cop.

“Listen, you don’t need to try to scare me,” I say, sitting back in the most uncomfortable chair on the planet. “I already told you and the other guy. I want to talk to my lawyer.”

“You don’t have one,” he points out.

“I’m entitled to one, right? This is still America?”

Begrudgingly, the FBI agent nods.

“I would like to call a lawyer and until I have him with me, I’m not saying another word.”

The FBI agent whose name I already forgot folds his arms across his chest and puffs it out in frustration.

“This isn’t going to help your case,” he finally says. “If you talk to us, and explain, I might be able to help you.”

With my arms shackled to each side of the table, I can’t move so I just sit up a little and look him straight in the eyes.

“I don’t think so, kid,” I say slowly and then sit back.

Without another word, he leaves the room.

I look up at the camera and give it a wink. I didn’t get far but at least I didn’t give them anything that they were looking for.

Cops often don’t know as much as they want you to believe they do. So, they want to make their case by talking to you. It’s tempting, of course. You’re in chains and you want to explain how this whole thing is a terrible mistake. But I force myself to keep my mouth shut.

When the doorknob turns, I brace myself for yet another FBI agent.

Good cop didn’t work.

Bad cop didn’t work.

So, what the hell are they going to throw at me now?

“Hello, Nicholas,” Art Hedison says and my heart jumps into my throat.

2

Nicholas

When I see him…

I steel my gaze on him, without looking like I’m scared or even surprised to see him. No, this asshole doesn’t deserve a flinch from me.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

My mind rushes through all of the possible explanations and reactions. What should I say? How should I act?

“I’m fine, given the circumstances,” I say with a casual shrug. “And you?”

“Good, good,” he says, nodding his head.

He stares at me and I stare back.

We both know why he’s here. The first two FBI agents couldn’t get anything out of me, so he’s here to do what they couldn’t do.

He is here to make me admit something.

He’s here to rattle me.

He’s here to break me.

“Are you surprised to see me?”

I shrug.

“I’m sure you are given that you thought that you would never see me again after that day at the mall.”

This is what they call ‘leading the witness.’ I don’t take the bait. I just sit back in my chair and lift up my chin in the air.

“You remember that day, Nicholas?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.

“Are you denying the fact that we met at the mall?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

My thoughts return to our last meeting. It was out in public with lots of people around and, more importantly, with cameras recording our every move.

“Maybe,” I say, tilting my head to one side. “Maybe not. I’m going to tell you what I told the other two agents. I’m not admitting to anything or confirming anything until my lawyer gets here. I know my rights and I intend to use them.”

“That would be a very big mistake, Nicholas. ‘Cause you see, I can help you. I’m here for you.”

Like you were there for me before? I’m tempted to say. What a fucking joke!

“I’m just here to help. I know that you have your side of the story and I know that you didn’t kill anyone.”

He’s tempting me.

He’s saying that he believes me when we both know that he doesn’t.

And even if he does, it’s just a lie anyway. The only reason he’s here is to get a confession.

“I know you didn’t kill anyone,” Art says, leaning closer to me. “The thing is that they don’t know that.”

He nods back at the camera as he says the word ‘they.’ He’s on my side. He’s trying to be my friend again.

“I had a choice, Nicholas. They found out about my little indiscretion and Internal Affairs were after me. The only way I could get out of it was to tell them what I know about you.”

“This doesn’t sound like an apology,” I say, the words escaping my lips before I can stop them.

“I’m sorry. I am,” he says, leaning closer to me again. “But I’m here to help you. For real.”

I run my fingers over the handcuffs around my wrists and feel the smoothness of the metal.

“I saw you on TV,” I say slowly. “You gave interviews to a bunch of different programs always talking about how much of a dangerous criminal I am and that I killed my partner.”

The expression on Art’s face changes from eager to surprise. He wasn’t expecting this.

“What’s the matter?” I continue. “Did you think they were broadcasting to some private channel rather than to millions of households around the country? Or did you just not expect me to see it?”

“I had to do that, Nicholas. My boss wanted me to. We had to create buzz around your case. We had to have the public’s help in finding you.”

I exhale deeply.

“What do you want from me, Art?” I ask.

“I want you to allow me to help you. I know that you didn’t kill your partner or your ex-girlfriend.”

“Really? ‘Cause those charges they read to me say pretty much that exact thing.”

Art stares at me. My eyes meet his and neither of us look away.

“They have a strong case, Nicholas. You were with your partner when it happened. You’d just done a big job, it was worth millions. People have killed their partners for a lot less.”

He was my best friend I’m tempted to say. I would never do anything like that.

But I force myself to keep my mouth shut.

“You have no alibi for that night. There are eyewitness reports of people who saw you in the area. We even have video recordings of you at a nearby convenience store.”

“Is there a reason why you’re telling me all of this?” I ask smugly.

“Of course, there is. I want you to understand the case that we have on you. I also want you to know that you can trust me. You need to tell me what really happened so that I can help you get out of this mess.”

He’s trying to be my friend and, I have to admit, he’s doing a good job at it.

“Once your lawyer gets here, I won’t be able to help you anymore,” he adds.

I laugh.

“What’s so funny? You don’t believe me?”

“You’re just so predicable Art. I thought you’d have a better line than that.”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth,” he insists.

I glare at him again. He waits for me to say something and I wait to gather my thoughts and work out the exact thing that I want to say.

One wrong word can send me to prison for life or worse.

No, when in doubt, keep your fucking mouth shut. That should be the motto of every single person who has ever been arrested.

There is no explaining to the cops.

There is no pandering.

There is no over-extending.

Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, at least in this country. That means it’s in your best interest to stay quiet, no matter how much you want to speak up in your defense.

I’m tempted to question their eyewitness reports and their video recordings. I’m tempted to find out more about what they have but they will only share things that will make me even more curious.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, sitting back in my chair. “I’m making another request to see an attorney. I already told the cop in the car on the way over here, the other FBI agents, and you. I’m entitled to representation and that’s what I want.”

3

Olive

When I see him…

When they pull him away from me and put him into handcuffs, I collapse onto the floor. Two police officers have to hold me up to keep me upright as my legs completely let go. Someone starts talking to me and when I don’t respond, another person pipes in. But I don’t hear a thing they’re saying.

A loud buzzing sound reverberates in my head, blocking all incoming sound. I see their mouths move and I see them tugging at my arms trying to position me here and then there but I don’t respond. It’s like everything is happening to someone else. Is that possible?

Some time passes before some of the shock wears off. The cops gather in clumps outside, holding their jackets around their necks as the snow starts to fall. I look out of the window to try to get a glimpse of Nicholas but they’ve taken him to some car out by the road. I can’t see him and he can’t see me.

What must he be thinking at this moment?

My heart tightens as my breathing becomes more laborious. What if…I don’t let myself go there at first. But then I can’t stop the thoughts from flooding in.

What if he thinks it’s me?

What if he thinks I led them here, on purpose?

Someone talks to me again but his words don’t get processed. When he hands me my clothes, I put them on. When he hands me my coat, I put that on. When he hands me Solly, I take him in my arms and pet his head, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

In all of the commotion, I actually forgot that I was a mother of a cat. Whatever happens, I need to make sure that he is okay.

A strong gust of wind rushes through my open coat as I step outside. Another cop hands me my hat and I pull the zipper closed to keep some of the cold out.

They show me to a car and put me in the back seat.

I buckle the seat belt and don’t bother asking where we’re going. They have questions that they want me to answer. Solly purrs under my fingers as I try to figure out what I should and shouldn’t tell them about Nicholas.

He’s on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.

He has a warrant out for his arrest.

The fact that I was found in his trailer, with him, means that they will want to get me for aiding and abetting a fugitive.

Whether or not they can prove this, I am not sure, but what I say to them will be of t paramount importance.

The interrogation room is small and windowless and they allow me to keep Solly in my lap even offering me something to drink. Freezing to my bones, I opt for some hot tea.

The first FBI agent introduces himself and takes a seat across from me. His eyes look kind as does his demeanor but I know that’s all a facade. They are being nice right now because I have something they want.

But what?

Something to help them make a case against Nicholas.

Whatever I say or don’t say, I know that I have to protect him. I can’t let them frame him for something he didn’t do.

“Your boyfriend is in a lot of trouble,” the agent says, sitting back in his chair.

“Ex-boyfriend,” I correct him even though it hurts me to say the word.

“Is that so? Didn’t you spend the night with him?”

“Doesn’t mean that we aren’t exes,” I say, shrugging. “We broke up and that was just a brief reunion, nothing else.”

The agent nods but makes it clear that he isn’t convinced that I’m telling the truth. My heart starts to race. I rub Solly behind the ears until my blood pressure drops.

“Nicholas Crawford is a dangerous man,” the agent says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insist.

“He is wanted by the FBI he is, in fact, one of our Ten Most Wanted. I’m sure you’ve seen the shows—”

“No,” I say, shaking my head, looking as much as possible like a deer in headlights.

If I can convince them that I know nothing then that’s my best chance of getting out of this mess without any charges.

“There have been programs on 20/20, Dateline, all of the big ones—”

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