Dial A for Addison

by Piper Davenport

  Piece by piece, I removed each item, examined it, and placed it in my trunk. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been working there long enough to accumulate many personal items. In less than ten minutes I was staring at an empty box, wondering what to do next.

  “Where is it?” Nicolai asked, jabbing his gun at me.

  “I don’t know, okay?” I replied. “This was the only place I could think of. He brought me this box and…”

  Then it hit me. I flipped the box over. Nothing was taped to the bottom of it. I felt the insides, looking for some hidden compartment or something. Nothing. But there was a piece of cardboard taped to the side.

  “Hand me my keys,” I said, holding my hand out to Brian.

  He shook his head, taking a step back.

  I rolled my eyes. “There’s no weapon on them. What do you think I’m going to do with them? Key you to death?”

  When Brian didn’t answer I turned to Nicolai. “Give them to her,” he barked.

  Brian handed me my keys and I used one to cut through the heavy box tape. The flap sprung free, and a torn piece of paper fluttered to the bottom of the box.

  “What’s that?” Nicolai said, looking over my shoulder.

  I set my keys down in the trunk and picked it up. A web address written in Kirk’s handwriting. Below it was his usual username, followed by a series of letters, numbers, and special characters.

  “I think this is what we’re looking for,” I said.

  Nicolai leveled his gun at me. “Good. Give it to me.”

  I didn’t want to. The little paper in my hand no doubt held the information that could clear my name, and more than likely keep me alive. I’d be exonerated and free to kiss Asher as much as I wanted. But as soon as I handed the information over, I’d be dead. Now that I knew Randal White had orchestrated the whole murder, there was no way he was going to let me walk away from this. I could either stand there and let Nicolai shoot me, or I could go down like a badass.

  My heartrate spiked, pumping adrenaline into my veins, and I didn’t think. I just acted.

  “What?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at Brian like he’d said something.

  Nicolai shifted, watching us.

  As I turned back around, I smacked his gun hand toward my car and sprinted for the Cadillac Escalade across the aisle. The gun went off, deafeningly loud in the enclosed garage.

  Fire shot through my arm. I crouched behind the SUV and checked the wound. There was a gash halfway down my bicep and blood steamed down, dripping from my elbow. I slipped the paper between my teeth and angled my arm away from my dress, applying pressure with my hand while trying to figure out my next play. My ears rang and I could feel my heart beating through my wound.

  A stream of expletives ripped from Brian.

  Nicolai joined him, shouting more nonsense. “I didn’t… moved… I… we need…”

  I needed to move before they came for me, but I didn’t want to leave the cover of the Escalade. Besides, my stupid high heels would click against the concrete floor and they’d know exactly where I was. I’d started to slip out of them when red and blue lights created an eerie glow around the garage.

  Addison

  ABOUT TWO HOURS after Asher left me to head to my apartment, I said good-bye to the final dinner guest and stood in the doorway watching the street. I still had no word on whether or not Dylan had been found, if she was safe, nothing. My outgoing texts to both Asher and Jake were reaching stalker levels, but they’d gone unanswered.

  My limo pulled up. I leaned back inside the building to tell Stacy I was leaving, and when I headed out, almost ran into Jake. His bow tie had been removed, he’d unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt, and his previously styled hair was disheveled.

  “Did you find her?” I demanded.

  “Yeah, she’s at the hospital.”

  I gasped. “Is she okay?”

  “She got shot, but—”

  “Shot?” I screamed. “Where is she?” My stomach sank. If she was okay he would have texted me, but instead he was here in person to tell me the news. Fearing the worst, my hand flung to my mouth and tears clouded my eyes.

  Jake caught me and pulled me close. “Sweetheart, she’s fine. Minor flesh wound. She’s getting stitched up as we speak.”

  “Take me to her right now.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my temple. “Just give me a second, okay?”

  I forced back tears. “I really need to see Dylan.”

  “I know, Addison, and you will, but let me hold you for a minute.”

  “I don’t need a hug.”

  “But I do,” he admitted, stroking my back.

  I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, his cologne both a comfort and a turn-on. As he held me, I relaxed a little, the tension of the night releasing just a bit.

  “She’s really okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s take you to the hospital so you can see for yourself,” he said, and wrapped an arm around my waist.

  “I have the car,” I said.

  “Lead the way.”

  We climbed into the limo parked out front and Jake took my hand as we rode to the hospital. He helped me out of the car, sliding his tuxedo jacket over my shoulders as we headed into the emergency room.

  A nurse pointed us to Dylan’s room, and we walked in to find her giggling at something Asher said. She was sitting up in the bed, her arm bandaged, cheeks rosy, and a goofy grin stretched across her face.

  “Oh, Addie,” she crooned, her voice slow and a little slurred. “You’re here.”

  “Of course I’m here. How are you? I can’t believe you got shot. How bad is it?”

  “Pfft. I cut myself worse shaving. But check this out.” She threw back the thin hospital blanket covering her. “Not a drop of blood on this dress. I totally rocked it.”

  “It’s a little worse than a shaving cut,” Asher said, watching her. His eyes were filled with a mixture of worry and relief when they landed on mine. “But it’s a lot better than it could have been.”

  The meaning sunk in, squeezing my chest tight. I took a moment to take in my goofy, crazy friend—unable to comprehend my life without her—before rushing in to hug her. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Are you in pain?”

  Asher laughed. “She’s so high, she wouldn’t know if she was in pain.”

  “He’s right,” she said, giggling again. “I’m sooooo high.” Another giggle. “I don’t know what they gave me, but we should try to take some home. I’ll totally share.”

  Jake cleared his throat behind me.

  “I’m just kidding, Jake, sheesh. I’m keeping them all for me.”

  I sighed in relief and felt Jake at my back. I leaned against him. “When can you go home?”

  “Anytime,” Asher answered for her. “We were just waiting for you.” He stood and joined me on the other side of the bed. Lowering his voice, he said, “Dad called. I filled him in.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it. They said they were glad she was okay and told me to tell her to get well soon.”

  I groaned. “How did we end up with the biggest douchebags as parents?”

  He shrugged. “Lucky, I guess?”

  “Well, we don’t need them. We have our little tribe and that’s good enough for me.”

  “Me too, Sis.” He smiled, hugging me. “I’m glad you’re okay too, you know.”

  I hugged him back. “Ditto.”

  “I’ll go find the nurse and we’ll get Dylan signed out.”

  Asher left the room and I glanced over at my friend who was waving her fingers in the air.

  “Whoa, totally weird man,” she said, then laughed. “I sound like I’m in a Cheech and Chong movie. Totally weird, man.” More hysterical laughing.

  “Super sensitive to drugs, I take it?” Jake asked.

  I giggled. “You have no idea. You should see her after one Tylenol PM.”

  He chuckled and slid his arm around my waist, leaning down to
whisper, “I’m really glad she’s okay.”

  I blinked back tears and nodded. “Me too.”

  After signing Dylan out, getting her meds filled, and loading her into the limo (a hard job, considering she kept trying to get out of the wheelchair to visit with other patients), we headed back to our apartment.

  By the time the limo pulled into the parking garage, Dylan was out, which meant Asher had to carry her up. My brother was built, but Dylan was tall, and pretty much dead weight by that point. So when he scooped her up and pulled her close, I was awed and a little surprised.

  He grinned. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Well enjoy it, because she’s probably gonna kill both of us when she finds out.”

  He carried her to the apartment, with Jake and I right behind him. I unlocked the door and stepped aside. “Set her in her room, Ash. I’ll undress her and then meet you guys back here.”

  “I could help,” he suggested.

  “No, she’s going to freak out that you carried her up to begin with... seeing her half-naked would take her over the edge.”

  “You have a point.”

  He set her gently on the bed, removed her shoes, kissed her forehead, then closed the door as he left. I was mindful of her wound as I rolled her onto her side to unzip the dress. It took a lot of scooting and tugging, but I finally got it off her. She was left in her panties and bra cups. I figured that was good, threw a blanket over her, and sneaked out the door.

  Jake and Asher sat in my living room, drinking beer, but I noticed someone had poured me a glass of wine, which I snagged as I flopped onto the sofa next to Jake, kicking my shoes off and pulling my legs up beside me.

  “You didn’t want to get out of that expensive gown, huh?” Jake asked.

  I sipped my wine and shook my head. “I will. But for the moment, please tell me Dylan’s off the hook.”

  He slid his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Not yet—”

  “What the hell?” I snapped.

  “Can I finish?” he challenged.

  “Only if you’re going to tell me she’s clear of all charges.”

  Asher chuckled. “I warned you.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Jake said. “I’m confident Dylan will be cleared of the charges, Addison, it’s just not going to happen this weekend. They have to book Baranov and Taylor and find out what they know, then the DA can go from there.”

  “Well, if she’s not cleared on Monday, we’re suing,” I snapped. “Actually, we might sue anyway. Unlawful arrest, police harassment—”

  “All the evidence pointed to Dylan,” Jake countered.

  “Did it?” I snarled. “Anyone with half a brain could have seen it was a setup. Goddammit! We’re the ones who solved the case in the end anyway, proving that the police—”

  “Addie,” Asher warned. “Jake’s worked his ass off to prove Dylan innocent, so maybe refrain from finishing your sentence.”

  I sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Jake. I’m tired and frustrated, and coming down off an adrenaline surge.”

  “I get it, Addison.” Jake gave me a gentle squeeze. “But now, I should go. I swapped shifts so I could join you tonight, which means early morning for me.”

  I set my wine down and rose to my feet. “So much for our date.”

  He smiled, heading towards the door. “We’ll find another night.”

  I nodded, pulling open the door. He leaned down and kissed me gently... then he left. No makeout session, no sex, no nothin’. I closed and locked the door and walked back to the living room.

  “You okay?” Asher asked.

  I shook my head, threw myself onto the sofa, and burst into tears.

  Asher swore before sitting me up and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I buried my face in his jacket and sobbed. “She could have been killed.”

  “I know, Addie, I know. But she’s okay.”

  “I can’t believe she believed Mom! God, she’s such a cow. You have to make sure Dylan knows that whatever she said is a total lie.”

  “I will, sissy. I promise.” He stroked my arm. “It’s all over now. I’m going to stay tonight, we’ll get up tomorrow and I’ll make us omelets, you know the ones you like with those gross mushrooms and shit, and we’ll have coffee and hang out like we used to.”

  “Okay, that sounds nice.” I sniffed, nodding against his chest. “Will you make bacon?”

  “I’m not an animal, Addie. Of course I’ll make bacon.”

  “I don’t know if we have any of those things to make.”

  “Then I’ll run to the store.”

  I nodded again and gave him a watery smile. “You’re the best big brother on the planet.”

  “I know.”

  I giggled and let him hug me a little while longer before heading to my room to change.

  * * *

  Dylan

  I woke up to the smell of bacon and knew we had company since there was no way Addison was cooking. My right arm hurt like a mofo, and the sight of the bandage wrapped around it brought back all sorts of memories I wasn’t ready to deal with yet.

  I also didn’t want to deal with company. Couldn’t a girl get a reprieve after everything I’d been through? My traitorous stomach growled; apparently it wasn’t feeling antisocial. Besides, the bacon smelled delicious, so I threw back my covers and stumbled out of bed.

  Plastic bra cups were still stuck to my boobs. I took a moment to wonder how I’d gotten from the hospital to mostly-naked and in bed, but everything after the pain medicine was a blur. Leaving that mystery for later, I attacked the cups, trying to pry them off with my left hand. My skin felt like it was ripping and they were no looser, so I gave up and climbed in the shower. Keeping my right arm dry proved to be even more difficult than removing the damn plastic cups, but washing my hair one handed was what finally did me in. Feeling completely helpless, I threw my head back and cried.

  I almost died.

  The thought blindsided me, crashing into me on a wave of memories. Nicolai pointed that stupid gun at me and told me to give him the paper. Yes, I could have died, but I didn’t. And truth be told, there were hundreds of times in my lifetime I could have died. Like that one time I went night snowboarding with my cousin Ricky and plowed into a rock. Or when Janie Foster convinced me to ride her uncle’s unbroken colt. Or pretty much anytime I rode as a passenger in my father’s truck after he’d had a few too many.

  But I wasn’t dead.

  And I could be a coward sniveling in the shower for the rest of my life, or I could go eat some damn bacon with my best friend and whoever the hell she’d conned into cooking for her. Determined to do the latter, I wiped my eyes, turned off the water, and got out. I dried off, did the best I could at left-handed hair brushing, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt (no bra necessary since the cups were apparently permanent now), and went to go get me some breakfast.

  Asher stood in the kitchen with his back to me. His blond hair was still damp from his own shower, his jeans rode low on his waist, and he was shirtless. The muscle definition of his back surprised me. I mean, I knew Asher was built, but the man had clearly been putting in work at the gym. My fingers itched to explore every hard crevice.

  “Like the view?” he asked, giving me a sexy smirk over his shoulder.

  Heat rose up my cheeks and I bit my lower lip.

  Asher’s eyes sparkled with humor. He flicked off the gas stove and faced me. Turned out his abs and pecks looked even better than his back.

  “You’re frying bacon shirtless?” I asked. “Who does that?”

  “Strong, manly men like me,” he said, puffing up his chest.

  The heat from my face drifted down to the rest of my body. “Oh yeah?” I asked.

  He opened his mouth then shut it, opened it and shut it again, before finally ducking. “I was going to come up with some amazingly witty comeback that would force you to throw yourself at me, but I’ve got nut
hin’.”

  He wanted me to throw myself at him, did he? The idea made my knees buckle. After everything I’d been through, you’d think flirting with the man I loved would be no sweat, but it still scared me out of my mind. What if I gave him my heart and he ripped it out of my chest and stomped on it? What if he rejected me? What if he realized I wasn’t good enough for him?

  “Stop,” Asher said.

  I looked up at him, wondering if my out-loud voice had given away my internal thoughts again.

  “Your face shows exactly what you’re thinking,” he said, closing the distance between us.

  “It does?”

  He nodded and pushed a wet strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah. It’s one of my favorite things about you. You’re never fake.”

  He smelled like the expensive body wash he used and bacon. The combination was making me a little lightheaded. Or maybe that was pain from my arm. I’m pretty sure it was time to take another pain pill. His bare chest was inches from me, making it impossible to think.

  “I have lots of other favorite things about you.” He took the same lock of hair he’d just tucked behind my ear and twirled it around his finger. “In fact, there’s nothing about you I don’t like. Which is saying a lot, since I think I know you pretty well.”

  “You think you do, huh?” I asked

  The heated look he gave me stole the oxygen from my lungs. “I know I do. And I’ve let you run and hide from me for a long time, but you need to know that I’m over that now.”

  I swallowed, unable to look away. “Over what, exactly?”

  “Over you running every time you get scared, hiding whenever my mom says stupid shit to you. You know I want more than friendship from you, don’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Now what do you want from me?”

  Such a loaded question. An honest answer could scare the crap out of both of us, so I forced down the butterflies in my stomach, gave him a cocky smirk, and said, “I don’t know, this whole shirtless-in-the-kitchen look you’ve got going on is kinda working for me.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, stepping to me. When his hard, incredible chest pressed against me, he moved the hand which had been playing with my hair to the back of my head. He held me there as he slowly inched toward my lips. When we were breathing the same air, he whispered, “No more running, Dylan.”