When I open my door, I am greeted to a house that is not in the same condition I left it in.
Chills rush down my spine as I stay frozen in the doorway for several moments, trying to take it all in.
“Geez, you love flowers or what?” Declan asks, peeping over me to see my entire house from the view of the door is covered in flowers. Every kind imaginable. The rainbow of colors would be stunning if I weren’t so terrified.
“I didn’t … This isn’t how I … I don’t know who …” Now I’m the one who can’t finish a sentence.
Declan immediately reacts, pulling me back outside before cautiously walking into my house. He only takes a few steps inside, assessing, before he turns back to face me outside. “Stay out here, have your phone in your hands, and be ready to call for help if needed.” He then throws me his keys. “If you get spooked, get in my car and get away from here. Drive to Joey’s. He’s closest.”
I barely take in his words before he turns back around and I lose sight of him.
I shakily grab my phone out of my handbag, gripping it hard enough I’m surprised it isn’t crushed by my hand as I hold my breath and wait for Declan to return.
He doesn’t for several minutes, definitely long enough for me to begin to feel lightheaded and sick. When he finally emerges, I let out a sigh of relief.
He shakes his head while he holds up an envelope with the aid of a tissue between his fingers and the paper. “House is clear. The flowers extend only in there and your bedroom. Found this card on your bed.”
I swallow the bile traveling up my throat as I reach out to take the card. Before my fingers make contact, though, Declan backs away from me.
“You need to be careful not to touch anything with your fingers. I want to dust this for prints in case we can get a lead off it.”
I’m not sure there is much point since we clearly know who did this. Not many people I know can afford this many flowers. Regardless, I nod. Then, with the help of a couple more tissues from my bag, I manage to get the card out of the envelope and open it up for us both to read the typed words together.
Your life belongs to me now.
Chapter 7
As far as creepy things happening to me go, this is right near the top. Due to my college stalker, it doesn’t take top place, but I don’t feel any better about it.
“What the hell do we do?” I ask Declan after silence has descended over us for an uncomfortable amount of time.
“I’ll look into the florist who delivered this; there’s a name on the card,” he points out.
“Okay, and then what? Do I call the police?”
When he hesitates, I don’t understand why. Someone broke into my house to do this. Shouldn’t that be enough reason to call them? Just because they left flowers instead of destruction doesn’t mean this is any less scary.
“Yes, you should file a report,” he finally answers.
“Why do you sound so unconvinced?”
He stares at me for a long moment, almost like he’s assessing me. “I’m not sure how serious the police will take this. There has definitely been a criminal offense here, and from the look of your front and back door locks, it doesn’t appear to show any noticeable break in. All your windows are still locked from the inside, too. I can’t see any obvious point of entry.”
I recall the words Bowen said to me just a couple of days earlier. When asked how he got into my locked room, he said he had his ways.
“That doesn’t even make sense, how did someone break into my house and not leave a trace?”
“Look, leave this with me, and I’ll make some calls. I have a cop who owes me one. I’ll get his advice and get him to file the report. Can you take a look around and tell me if anything looks missing or tampered with?”
I nod, not thrilled about even stepping foot into my house, which annoys the shit out of me.
This is my home. How dare someone enter uninvited and try to take away the sanctuary I have built for myself.
More assuredly, I step past Declan and give myself a moment to take in all the flowers again. Already my home smells like a florist shop. From how itchy my eyes become, I think I have an allergy I never knew about.
“Does everything look normal? I mean, other than the garden of freaking Eden in here.”
I stare past the flowers and glance at the local artwork on my walls, my modest TV screen against one wall, my soft pleather couch I picked up at a garage sale, and my bookshelf full of crime novels and the odd romance, all still where I left them.
“Looks fine,” I finally murmur, following him as he takes me into each room. Nothing looks out of place.
I wince when he asks me to check my underwear drawer, and then take careful note if anything is missing there. I can’t tell if anything is gone. It all looks there, though it isn’t impossible a pair went missing. I don’t exactly have a photogenic memory of every single one I own.
“So, nothing stolen,” Declan murmurs to himself, taking in my bedroom. I assume he is looking around intently in terms of this situation, but then he walks over to a framed photo I have of myself, Joey, Artie, and Zander from when we were younger. I think Zander’s mom took it one time during the summer.
Declan is actually in the photo, too, but half of him is missing to fit it in the frame. I wonder what he thinks, since there is extra room beside Joey I could have cut off instead.
I personally love that photo. I remember we all whined when she demanded we pose, but now I’m so glad she took it.
Next to that one is a newer one of Ava, Cynthia, and me. We are all dolled up at Ava and Zander’s engagement party. I insisted on this photo, not that the girls had to be talked into it.
And the last one is me holding Jensen. He is sleeping soundly in my arms as I glance down at him. I have several variations of all of us throughout the house, including friends I have drifted from. Some of those are either from school or college, but the people framed in my bedroom are my family.
“Dec?” I ask as he places the photo back down, his expression more closed down now.
“I’ll take you back to my place and get you sorted out there. Then I’ll get to work on the florist and what the fuck is going on here.”
“Huh?” I mutter stupidly. Back to his place?
“Let’s go.” He moves past me, and I scramble to follow him when he doesn’t appear to be planning to explain himself.
“What do you mean? I’m home now.”
“You really want to stay here, knowing someone was able to get into your locked house with no problem?” He stops briefly to stare back at me, his eyebrow rising as if he’s waiting for me to stop wasting his time.
Okay, no, I am definitely not okay with that.
“But, how did you get from that to staying at your place?”
“You have a better idea?” He turns his back to me instead of waiting for my answer, making his way into my once roomy living room that is now cluttered and colorful.
“Yes! I have several! I can stay with Joey!” Although, since he is likely going through breaking up with Kay, which will either be quick and painless, or drawn out and perhaps with some breakup sex thrown in, I’m not keen to be around for that. “Or Cynthia,” I suggest. However, since she lives with Vanessa … yeah, I don’t want to spend any more time around her. “Or …” I can’t crash at Zander and Ava’s since they are away, and I’m pretty sure Zander has their security set up to send SWAT in if anyone so much as opens a window at their place. Where else is left for me? “I can stay at a hotel, or one of my parents’ houses,” I finally finish. Although, since I did rather burn that bridge with Mom before I left, her denying me that will probably be part of them freezing me out.
“Or,” he emphasizes the word to annoying proportions, “you stay with me. And since we’re both hungover as all hell, we don’t waste time arguing about it.”
“That isn’t even a proper reason—”
“Sasha!” Declan growls, and I shut up.
I still think staying with Declan is an extreme leap, yet I honestly can’t be bothered fighting. Heavily hungover, and now scared about what the hell this all means, I just nod and follow him out. It’s not like I have much money saved up after paying for the flights for the wedding, so a hotel wouldn’t work for long, anyway.
He picks my suitcase back up and takes it back to the car, which answers what I’m supposed to wear while I’m at Declan’s.
I lock up my house, which feels a little pointless now, and make my way to his passenger side, when an interesting thought enters my mind, making me a little more eager to go with Declan.
I have no idea what his place looks like. Much like he avoided me, I did the same to him. Though, it should be pointed out that I still invited him to things, he just never showed up. However, I did not get that same courtesy from him, likely because I would have shown up.
That leaves me to wonder what Declan’s place looks like.
I already know he lives in an apartment, and that it’s near Zander’s old place.
I can’t help wondering if I might get a little insight into Declan by viewing it.
My head is still pounding, yet my mind is still worried about my new dilemma, and my stomach is still queasy, yet I also discover I’m a bit excited.
I come up with ideas on what to expect, and they mostly center on a bachelor’s dream home. I assume there will be some mess involved, with dirty dishes left out and a mostly empty fridge where the only occupants are beer and a few takeout containers.
I think of dark colors, comfort over style, and a huge TV screen. I think of a pool table somewhere, or some sort of gaming system. I think of an unmade bed with clothes thrown over an overfilling hamper. If there is any artwork about, it is likely to be of the female form.
I glance over at Declan as he drives and consider how handsome he is. I know he was able to give me an orgasm with very little work, and he definitely has some cuddle skills. It makes me wonder how many women he has brought back to his place. Should I expect the odd bra and panty set thrown about? Condoms in every conceivable nook and cranny? Should I assume he will keep this behavior up, even if I am staying with him?
Obviously, whatever happened between us before is now dead and buried. There is no way we can maintain any sort of relationship now we are back in Chicago. Not even a sexual one. Although, now that he’s given me a small taste, I wish we had indulged in each other while we had the chance.
However, the fact remains that we fight way too much to work on any level, and there is definitely too much baggage between us. I think even trying to be friends would be a stretch.
“Here we are,” Declan breaks through my thoughts.
I glance over the nondescript building, seeing no doorman, the inside looks clean, and an older lady greeting us at the door wears a warm and friendly smile.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask to break up the strange vibe between us as things feel weirder the closer we get to his level.
This isn’t a big deal, right? Friends do this all the time. And even though we are not friends, we are basically family. Declan is just being a nice, decent guy. He would do this for Zander or Joey, and it wouldn’t be a big deal. There is no need to think this is more than it is.
“Five and a half years. I moved in after I started working for Zander,” he answers, placing his hand on the small of my back to move me forward.
Okay, not an intimate touch, just a friendly one.
Don’t overthink this and make it weird, Sasha!
“I’ve always been meaning to ask why you and Joey moved into separate places.”
Joey and Declan moved in together straight out of college. They did odd jobs, with Declan working for a different P.I business, while Joey was a handyman who picked up odd jobs before they both started working for Zander. I think they lived together for a few months before Declan moved into his own place.
He answers me as he opens his front door, and I almost miss his answer since I’m so shocked at what I see.
And that is a home, not a crash pad.
Paintings of haunted forests and twisted trees hang on the walls. The house takes the darker colors of chocolate, deep purple, and creams, while the floor is covered in wide tiles. Knickknacks and photos litter every spare inch of space I can see from where I’m standing, and I note I am actually in a few of the photos.
“I moved out because Joey is an awful roommate. He’s messy, loud, and he wasn’t shy about bringing women home a few nights a week. I lost count of the number of naked women I walked in on in my damn living room. I couldn’t look at any surface toward the end without knowing something had likely gone on there.”
I wince from that image and consider how often I have spent time at Joey’s place, feeling a little sick to think of the couch I often find myself sitting on.
Gross!
I place my suitcase down next to his duffle bag, which he leaves by the couch facing a huge TV. I got something right, at least.
“Things were starting to become strained between us, and I didn’t want that. We talked, and there were no hard feelings with me moving out, so I did,” he finishes, apparently unaware of my disgusted look.
“I always knew Joey was … gross,” I lamely say.
“Yeah, things got better with us once I was out.”
I nod, imagining that would have to be true.
I take a few more steps in and see the kitchen to my right. It’s tidy, though there are a few clean dishes in the drying rack. I also notice a few of the shelves with photo frames on them are a little dusty. It seems likely he doesn’t have a cleaner coming around to keep this place in this condition.
“I always knew Zander was a neat freak, and it’s obvious just from Joey’s desk how messy he is, but I never pictured you to be so …” I search for the right word, gazing at another photo of Declan’s grandmother. “… organized.” I walk over to it and lightly touch the top of the frame.
Maude had been Declan’s guardian since he was a baby. She often fed us delicious, homecooked meals whenever we were around. She took a special liking to me since I was the only girl. Many times, she would even pull me aside and ask if I needed anything. I think she knew my parents weren’t there for me, and though my own grandmother was present and nice in her own way, she was strict and not overly approachable.
“She loved the letters you sent her when you were away at college.” Declan’s voice sounds from close behind me. A moment later, I feel his body heat. He might not be touching me, but I get the feeling he is still only a breath away.
“Well, she never had her cell phone turned on,” I explain.
“She didn’t know how to turn it on half the time, let alone keep it charged,” Declan says with a smile in his voice. I know he tried many times to explain it to her.
The nursing home she lived in for the last couple years of her life didn’t allow for individual landlines, so if you wanted a direct line, you had to get a cell phone.
“I always looked forward to reading her replies.” Not that I got many. Maude had trouble with her hands and soon just gave up writing back. She wrote out an apology for her final letter to me, and asked me to continue writing and to visit when I came home so she could give me her responses in person. She died before I ever got to have an in-person chat, though.
He rests his hands on my shoulders as we both look at the photo of her, both remembering times when she was alive.
Death sucks. It’s a horrible thing that no person gets away from dealing with. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier, though.
“She always told me to be nicer to you,” he admits.
“Guess you never listened to that piece of advice.”
“No, I didn’t.” His voice is soft now, and part of me wonders what she would think of me and Declan right now. We are definitely not close to being friends, but something weird is happening between us. Something shifted, even if it was just for a moment. Would she like that for us?
I shake away thoughts of Maude and the melancholy feeling that is shrouding us, and step away from Declan and the photo, brushing by him and hating that I notice him so much at all.
“So, where am I staying?”
“I have a spare room set up,” he informs me, his voice a little gravely. I know it’s because of how close he was with Maude. She was his mom more than his grandmother. She took care of him, though she didn’t have the energy or the money to do that. Regardless, she worked her ass off to provide for him.
I know it killed him to see her working away her retirement, but the love they shared for each other more than replaced any hard feelings for her. And she might have wished Declan’s own parents were able to take care of him, but she never begrudged having such an important role in his life.
He picks up my suitcase before walking me toward the short hallway.
Before I take more than a few steps forward, I notice a piano set up in the corner.
“You play the piano?” I gape at him, wondering who the hell this man is.
“Not really.” He gives me a half-shrug, already moving past it and opening a new door, signaling me to go in.
“What does that mean?” I stand my ground, not understanding.
“I know a couple tunes, but I haven’t been on it for over a year.”
“Why do you have it, then? Pianos aren’t exactly cheap,” I point out, finally stepping toward him and entering his spare bedroom.
It’s nice, plain, and sparse. Sad to say, but my spare room is mostly just a junk room. I do have a spare bed in there, but it’s buried deep under clothes, furniture that I need to get rid of, and other junk that I am unsure where it should go.
“It belonged to Melody,” he finally tells me.
“Who?” I rack my brain for that name and come up empty.
“You know, the woman I dated for a while.”
“I have zero idea about any of the women you have dated. A piano seems a little eccentric. How did she get it in here? Sneaked it in on one of your dates?” I joke while my heartrate steps up a gear. Why am I nervous about his answer?
I Knocked Him Out (Love at First Crime Book 2) Page 9
