Unfiltered & Undone

by Payge Galvin

  She’d run halfway to the gun club before realizing if Declan didn’t have his car keys, he wouldn’t have those ones either. Which meant Declan would go get breakfast and wait until enough time had passed for him to call and gruffly say, “I need my keys.”

  There were a few breakfast choices on campus. One was the coffee shop, and if he went there, he was safe from her, because Jess had been circling a quarter mile out of her way to avoid even walking past it.

  The coffee shop.

  Her stomach clenched and she had to lean against the nearest wall. That night was going to haunt her for the rest of her life. Affect the rest of her life, too, in ways she hadn’t realized until this morning. Now, because of it, she’d not only lost a lover but a friend, and that hurt. Hurt so damned much. Yet not nearly as much as knowing she’d hurt him.

  She remembered that look on his face when she’d said this wasn’t the start of a relationship. She’d panicked, certain she’d missed some nuance that would have told her he expected more. The whole walk to the gun club she’d played and replayed the scene from this morning. Finally, she had to admit she’d missed nothing except what was going on in his head. Which didn’t stop her from feeling horrible and taking some blame, because she’d never thought to question what Declan wanted. He was a guy. If she offered casual sex and he took it, that meant he expected only casual sex. He probably presumed she wanted a relationship, because, well, she was a girl. And when neither stereotype turned out to be true? Shock and anger and hurt. All of which could have been avoided with a simple conversation. The failure to have that conversation was as much her fault as his.

  She would apologize for the texts, and make it clear she didn’t see him as stud service. As for the rest, they’d need to talk about that, and a cowardly part of her hoped he was hurt enough to not want a relationship. That would make things easier. Anyone who got involved with her now needed to know she’d killed a man. Yet there was no way she could burden someone with that secret unless they were deeply enough into a relationship that it became necessary. And there, Jess realized, was a Catch-22 that meant she couldn’t be with anyone, at least not until she’d gone away to grad school and no longer feared that at any moment, the police would bang on her door and—

  Her phone buzzed and she jumped, as if hearing that dreaded bang. She saw Declan’s name and hit Answer so fast she almost dropped the phone.

  “Declan?”

  “Jess!” His voice sounded distant, as if he was yelling at her through a tin can and she only caught snatches of what he said. “It’s—get out—townhouse.”

  “Wha—?”

  “Chandler—coming—get out—somewhere safe—public—now!”

  A click. Then he seemed to speak again, but the voice was muffled and she couldn’t make out a word of it. It didn’t sound like Declan, though.

  “Declan? Where are—?”

  The line went dead.

  Jess called him right back, but it went to voice mail. “Declan? Are you okay? Can you call me back?”

  She flipped to text and sent the same thing. Then she stood there, clutching the phone, replaying in her mind what he’d said. No, mostly she replayed how he’d said it, the panic in his voice, which told her more than the words themselves. Chandler must have met up with Declan outside her place. There’d been an altercation of sorts, she imagined, and she winced at the thought of that, of Declan meeting Chandler and thinking, “This is the guy Jess dated for eight months?” and if that was an indication of her taste in men, then it was a good thing she didn’t want to be with him.

  Which was not the point of the call, and not at all what she should be worrying about.

  Declan was panicked, which meant whatever Chandler did or said had freaked him out and he was telling her to get out of the townhouse and go somewhere safe. So that’s what she’d do. As she walked, she called him again, but got voice mail.

  Jess went to the library. It was a fair bet Chandler wouldn’t find her there. She doubted he knew where it was. While they’d dated, she’d always felt a little inadequate, studying so hard to maintain her grade-point average, while he got the same marks and hardly ever studied. It was only after they’d broken up that she’d discovered he got those grades with his bank account, not his brains. In other words, he paid for them. Yes, she’d been naive. Seriously lacking in self-confidence, too. Others might think she was blessed, but all she heard was her parents’ voices, telling her she was smart and she was pretty, but never quite enough of either, not as brilliant as her father or as beautiful as her mother, and those were the only things in life that mattered. Her timid ego had been ripe for Chandler’s subtle bullying, pounding in those same messages. Not quite as smart as him. Not quite as good-looking. Not sexy enough. Not desirable enough. Really, she should count her lucky stars he saw potential in her.

  Fuck Chandler.

  She had the perfect card to play against him. His cheating. At school, that is. The campus police might ignore her accusations of harassment, but the Office of Student Conduct could not ignore her accusations of cheating. Not if she had proof. And not if she threatened to go public.

  Buoyed by her plan, Jess yanked open the library doors. As she walked, she sent a text to Declan. If you get this, I’m in the place I was supposed to be last night. With that, he’d know she was in the library… but if Chandler had somehow taken his phone, he would not know.

  She smiled to herself. Not as dumb as her ex thought. Not at all.

  Jess headed for her favorite spot in the library. Second floor. Periodicals. These days, the old journals didn’t get much use—everything was online. But the library still had its collection, along with some very comfy chairs for magazine browsing. Smart students headed there, and enough of them did that, while it was quiet, it was still public enough to be safe, should Chandler somehow track her down.

  As she walked up the stairs, she sent Declan another text. A longer and more personal one, and maybe he’d never get it, but she had to send it.

  I’m sorry about the texts. You were right. It might have been goofing off, but it was disrespectful, and I apologize. As for the rest…Like you said about me watching you fight, it’s not you, it’s me. I know that’s cliché, but it’s also true.

  She hit send as she headed through the periodical section. It was quiet, as always, not a soul browsing the musty shelves. She could hear the faint rustle of people in the sitting area, though she couldn’t see them on the other side of the shelves. She continued down the hall, passing dark and unused rooms that had once served as private areas for viewing microfiche. She started a second text.

  If I could be with someone, it would be you. But I can’t. There’s something going on in my life that means I can’t bring anyone in. It wouldn’t be fair, and I want to be fair to you, Declan. I know I haven’t been and—

  She heard a shoe squeak in the stacks beside her and glanced over. The blur of a man’s figure lunged toward her. He had her in a head-lock before she could do more than yelp. She dropped her phone. Dragging her under his arm, he threw open the door to one of the microfiche rooms and hauled her inside.

  Chapter 16

  Declan

  There was exactly one cell in the campus cop shop. A holding cell primarily for drunk and disorderly students, but also to hold those awaiting transfer to the city police for proper charges. Apparently, Declan fell into the latter category. Walker was pressing assault charges. Declan wasn’t too worried—he’d faced something similar before, when some moron recognized him outside a bar with Troy and decided to show Declan he wasn’t such a hot-shit fighter after all. Declan had defended himself and the moron’s buddies called the cops.

  The assault charge was not the problem right now. Walker going after Jess was. She’d gotten his call. He only hoped she’d heard enough of what he was saying to understand. She was smart and resourceful, and he trusted that whether she got the message or not, she’d never let Walker into her townhouse. If he tried breaking in
, she’d be out the back door, while dialing 911. Still, he wasn’t relying on that. He needed to get the hell out this cell.

  The entire way in he’d tried explaining things to the campus cops. He knew they got a bad rap—glorified security guards. That wasn’t true. A couple came to the club and they were nice enough guys with full police training. Unfortunately, these two fit the stereotype and wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

  He’d been in the damn cell for almost half an hour. Every few minutes, he’d start shouting and raising a fuss, but no one answered, and he’d begun to suspect he was alone in the building. Damned budget cuts. Two guys on duty and they were off doing what? Not checking out Walker’s story. They’d made it clear they were leaving that for the city police. Not escorting him into that city, either, where he might actually have a chance to talk to sensible law enforcement officers. Nope, they were just gone. Probably on their damned coffee break while Jess—

  He heard a noise from the front room.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Hey! Is someone there? I said I want my call. I’m entitled to a call.”

  He’d tried that when he first came in. They’d refused. He wouldn’t be questioned until he was in the city, so he’d get his call there. Declan didn’t know enough about the law to insist that wasn’t legal, but even if he had, they weren’t paying any attention to the “inked-up” loser who’d been stalking a sweet, innocent coed and then beat the shit out of her upstanding boyfriend.

  “Hey!” he called again. “Please. I need to make a call. I’ll keep it short.”

  The door into the cell area opened, and Declan saw a familiar face, a new recruit who’d been coming to the club to practice.

  “Mike.”

  “Declan?” Mike stepped in, his expression a mix of confusion and wariness. “What’s going on?”

  “Long story. Upshot is that I need to get out of here. I—”

  “Can’t do that, Declan.” Mike started backing out.

  “No, wait! Just let me make a call then. Jess is in trouble. You’ve met Jess. At the club? I was training her? Pre-med, blond—”

  “Sure, I’ve met Jess.” Mike stepped back into the cell area. “What’s up?”

  “I was with her last night and her ex found out—the same ex who’s the reason she’s learning to shoot. Can I call her? Please? I need to warn her.”

  “Shit. Yeah. Okay.” He handed Declan his phone.

  “Thank you.”

  Declan’s call went straight to voice mail. Fuck, that wasn’t good. Not good at all. He left a message, repeating the story about Walker in more detail. Mike listened in as he did. When Declan hung up, he leaned against the bars and exhaled.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Mike said.

  Yeah, there’s an understatement, buddy. Declan looked up. “Can you drive over to her place and check on her? Please?”

  Mike shifted his weight. “I, uh, I’m still in training, and I can’t go out on a call by myself. I can ask the other guys—”

  “I wouldn’t be asking you if they’d listen to me.” Declan leaned forward, and gripped the bars. “I need to get out of here, Mike. I’ll come back. I swear I will. Hell, you know where I work and where I live. I’m not going to run on a trumped-up assault charge. I’ll leave my wallet. I’ll leave my keys. Whatever helps.”

  “I wish I—”

  “She’s taking gun lessons because she’s scared of her ex. Gun lessons. He’s seriously bad news, and you guys haven’t done a damn thing about him, because his dad’s some big important alumnus—”

  “Chandler Walker?”

  “You know him?”

  “I… I heard the other guys talking. They were saying he’s having problems with a girl. He dumped her, and now she’s gone all psycho, accusing him of harassing her.”

  “That’s Jess. Does she seem psycho to you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “I’m sure you’ve met guys like Walker before. Privileged brats who’ve never heard the word ‘no’ in their life. Who think they’re entitled to have anything they want. Including whatever girl they want.”

  He could see Mike wavering and pushed on. “Hey, you know those cameras in the cruisers?”

  Mike looked confused by the change in subject. “Yeah.”

  “Would they have been turned on? When I was in the back?”

  “Sure. They’re always—”

  “Then check that. You’ll hear what Walker said—that he was going to see Jess and reclaim what’s his. By force if necessary.”

  It seemed to take a moment for Mike to process that, and Declan was ready to spell it out for the kid, when Mike said, “Oh. That’s not good.”

  No shit. Declan resisted the urge to grind his teeth and said, as calmly as possible, “Now do you see why I’m so freaked out?”

  “Yeah, but I’m sure he wouldn’t…”

  Declan had to clench the bars to keep from reaching through and shaking the kid. He struggled for calm. Try another tact. “If he does attack her and anyone finds out that you knew and did nothing…”

  “But I can’t do anything.” A whine crept into Mike’s voice. “I’m not supposed to leave—”

  “Then let me out. I’ll punch you if that helps.” God knows, I wouldn’t mind right now. “That’ll give you an excuse to say I escaped and attacked—”

  “No, you don’t need to do that.… .” Mike straightened and squared his shoulders. “I’m an officer of the law. I’m empowered to make my own decisions—”

  “And that’s fantastic. You’re absolutely right. Now, can you get the keys?”

  Mike did. He unlocked the door. Declan burst out, pausing only long enough to say, “I’ll need my phone.”

  He followed Mike into the main room, nudging him when he didn’t move fast enough. Mike handed him his cell then said, “Let me grab your wallet and—”

  “Keep it for collateral,” Declan said, and ran from the station.

  Chapter 17

  Jess

  The man held Jess in a chokehold. When she tried to struggle, his arm tightened, crushing her windpipe and she instinctively fought harder, only to start gasping and choking, and that’s when her brain clicked on, telling her to stop.

  “That’s better,” he said when she did. He flicked on a penlight and set it on the study carrel. “Now, you fight me again, and I’m going to snap your neck. You won’t have a chance to scream, kick, anything. Just one little snap—”

  She nodded, and he chuckled, “Good girl. Now, I want something from you and I’m sure you know what it is.”

  When she tensed, he chuckled again, “No, not that. You’re a pretty little thing, but that’s not my style.”

  “What do you want?” she wheezed.

  “Guess.”

  Her first thought was of the muscular man in the coffee shop, but that made no sense. If this guy wanted revenge, he’d turn her in or kill her. No need to take her hostage for that.

  “Here’s a hint. It makes the world go round.”

  Jess exhaled. “Money. Okay. Sure. I’ve only got a couple of twenties in my wallet, but my watch is a Cartier and my earrings are diamonds—a carat each.” Maybe someone else would try to hide the value of what she was wearing, but right now, it seemed smart to flaunt it. Hand it over and make him happy and he’d leave.

  “That’s nice, sweetie, but I mean the money you stole in the coffee shop.”

  She tried not to flinch, but she must have, because he said, “Good. You know what I’m talking about.”

  “I didn’t steal any—”

  “A guy went into that coffee shop Saturday night. He had over a million bucks with him. He hasn’t been seen since.”

  “If that was your money, I’d suggest he took it and ran because—”

  “It’s not mine. But I plan to make it mine. There were a bunch of kids in that coffee shop. I saw a few of you leave. You’re the one I spotted a couple days ago, coming out of the grocery.”

  That was h
im on the path then. Not Chandler. This guy. Whoever he was. She couldn’t see more than an arm.

  She could give him the money. Not gladly—she’d rather see it go to charity—but she’d hand it over if she had to. That wouldn’t solve the problem, though. If she only gave him her part, he’d realize they’d split it and go after the others.

  “If there was money, I don’t know where—”

  “Where’d you get that fancy watch and those earring, then?”

  “My parents.” She unhooked the watch and held it up. “It’s inscribed, see? For my high school graduation. I got the earrings when I turned twenty-one.”

  “So Daddy’s rich, is he?”

  Damn it. Maybe not the best thing to admit when being held captive. Too late now. She plowed on. “Yes, which means I don’t need to steal anything from anyone. If someone was robbed at the coffee shop, I didn’t see it.” She remembered he’d seen others. She had to protect them, too. “And I was there until closing. It was just a regular Saturday night. Whatever happened to the money must have happened after your friend left.”

  “He’s not my friend, and he never left. I know what was going down in that place Saturday night. I know it was an inside job. You tell me you don’t have the money? Then give me something else. Such as the names of everyone who works there.”

  “Works there?” Jess channeled Chandler and gave a short laugh. “How would I know? They’re employees. They make my lattes. I don’t hang with them.”

  “Then you’re going to wish you’d stepped off your pedestal and tried being sociable, because I’m not letting you go until I’ve got something. The money or the names.”

  “I don’t know—”

  Something sharp pressed against her stomach. She strained against the man’s arm and looked down to see the knife in his hand.

  “Does that jog your memory?”

  “I-I don’t know—”

  “I don’t care. You aren’t walking out of here until I’m good and sure you’re telling the truth. Do you know what the best truth serum is? Pain. You’d better hope your daddy can afford a good plastic surgeon, because when I’m done with you—”