I falter and stop walking without warning. Sebastian, who takes another few steps and inadvertently tugs me along before stopping and releasing me to turn and look at why I stopped in my tracks.
Emily.
I forgot. I forgot she'd be here. Seeing her face chips away at my nerves. I'm so glad to see her. She's not the type of friend who tries to talk you out of a bad decision. She's the type of friend who jumps in recklessly to help you.
She comes in to hug me, and once at my ear, she whispers, "Holy shit. You got in. What's the mission code name?"
I pull back from her hug instantly.
"Hey," I say, aware that Sebastian is watching us both expectantly. "Where's Owen?"
"He's over there," she says, gesturing to a corner of the room.
At first I see only a hoard of uniforms, but then I spot Owen. He's hard to miss, tall with wide shoulders and thick arms. I've met him plenty of times before, but never in uniform.
Emily's eyes snap to Sebastian for the first time and her expression turns sly in an instant.
"Well, hello, I don't think we've met. I'm Emily. Emily Stone. I'm here with Officer Grant."
She nods over to Owen who, at that very moment, looks past the men speaking to him and locks eyes with Emily. She winks and his entire demeanor relaxes, his lips turning up in response.
"Grant. Yes, I know him," Sebastian says.
"And you are…?"
"Sebastian Reed."
He extends a hand and Emily shakes it, her smile widening as she looks over to me. She opens her mouth to speak but I head her off.
"Should we go say hi to Owen?"
"Sure, come on."
Emily walks off to her boyfriend and tugs at his arm to get his attention. Owen turns to face us, his attention on Emily at first before rising up to greet us.
"You remember Amelia, right?"
While Sebastian's presence is imposing, Owen's physically large, easily the largest man in the room. Yet the hand he rests at Emily's waist is careful, like a giant handling a feather.
"Of course," Owen says.
Sebastian shakes Owen's hand.
"Detective, I met your partner earlier. O'Brien. Did she leave already?"
"She did."
A server walks up with a tray of drinks. Sebastian grabs one and offers it to me. I take it gladly, the glass cold in my hand. When the server holds the tray out to Owen, he simply shakes his head.
"We're fine, thank you," Emily says, but watches the woman stride off through the gathering crowd. She collects herself and looks to Sebastian again. A storm of curiosity builds in her green eyes. Knowing her, I fear the things threatening to spill from her lips. Knowing me, she avoids my warning glare. "How come I've never heard of you before, Sebastian?"
"It's been an eventful two weeks, as I'm sure you're aware."
Realization clicks in Emily's eyes and she glances at me in time to catch the warning in mine. The last thing I need is her mentioning my assault case aloud. I'm sure it's the last thing Sebastian wants as well. It's not like anyone here is likely to know who I am.
Except, of course, for the mayor. But Sebastian doesn't know that.
I bring the champagne flute up to my lips and scan the room, peering past various uniforms and suits, until I spot the mayor standing in the wide doorway of what looks like the kitchen area. He's in conversation with a blonde woman in a red dress, his smile is carefree and posture is inviting. He seems comfortable and unconcerned with his surroundings, which makes me suspect he's yet to notice my arrival. I need to get into his office before he realizes I'm here.
"I didn't realize you were dating anyone," Emily says to me.
And I'm mortified, cheeks heating up like I've fallen backward a dozen years. Sebastian's eyes twinkle with amusement at the way I blanch. I bring the glass up to my lips in an attempt to hide my face. He leans in to whisper something in my ear and I forget to breathe.
"Relax," he says, "your shoulders are up to your ears."
The way he comes in so close, his breath tickles my ear and rolls down my neck in a pleasing shiver. His tone is playful and I know what he's thinking. He thinks I'm nervous to be here with him, that I'm intimidated by the idea of a date. I glance at the ground, wishing briefly that the circumstances were different. Wishing I wasn't who I was and didn't want the things I did. This is why I've been single for so long. I'd choose a story over a man any day of the week, and I do.
I am.
I'm doomed to want things that are opposing ends of each other.
"Well? Are you two a thing?" Emily asks.
Sebastian takes an unhurried sip from his own drink and as he does so, his free hand moves from the small of my back to my side, nudging me closer to him.
"Do we look like a thing?" he asks.
"You do."
"Good. Because we are."
Owen settles a finger under Emily's chin, turning her to him so he can plant a small kiss on her lips. She doesn't quite smile, but her face lights up in amusement, as though she's just received his silent message.
Darling, you're doing that thing again.
Owen mercifully strikes up a conversation with Sebastian. About work. Life. Bullshit. Emily slips away from her boyfriend's side and comes to stand by me.
She nudges me when I refuse to look at her, a smile threatening to burst on my face.
"You've been holding out. My ovaries nearly combusted shaking his hand. You hitting that?"
"Emily," I warn, through a nervous laugh. "Shut up. I need help."
I get a glimpse of the back of the mayor's head disappearing past a wide archway leading to the next room. Scanning the crowded space around me, I calculate my next move. There's a large staircase by the entrance, leading up to a landing. No one seems to be upstairs or anywhere near the staircase. If the mayor's office is upstairs, I'm in trouble. No way I'd be able to sneak up those long stairs in these heels without attracting attention.
"What is it? What do you need?" Emily asks.
She's eager, always eager for trouble.
"His office," I whisper, maintaining a casual expression in case anyone's looking our way. No one seems to be, and the party sounds around us are loud enough that it's doubtful anyone can hear me.
Emily lifts her hand to her collarbone and fingers a necklace there. A pretty infinity symbol with tiny diamonds on it. "Pretend we're talking about my necklace," she says quietly.
I almost snap at her to take this seriously until I understand what she's doing. With the charm of her necklace between her fingers, no one looking our way would think much of the way we whisper with our heads bowed.
"There's a door to the left of the stairs," she says, keeping her eyes on her necklace. "That's his office."
The majority of the party guests are gathered around the large living room, which happens to face right in the direction of the staircase and the solitary door right underneath it. This isn't good. No guests linger around the staircase, but most everyone faces in that direction. Someone's bound to notice me slipping into the room.
"Are you sure that's the office?"
"When Owen and I got in earlier, I saw him coming out of it and caught a glimpse of a desk inside." I don't know how long until the mayor will come back this way. The moment he sees me; the jig is up. He will know I'm up to something and at best, not take his eyes off me, and at worst, have me thrown out. I'm prepared to take the fall for getting caught, but how will this effect Emily and Owen?
Sebastian…
My stomach sinks. If the mayor was really behind my attack, I might be putting all of them in harm's way.
"Emily, go with Owen. It's better no one knows we're close, just in case."
"What are you…?" She trails off, frowning. But she knows she can't ask me questions. Instead, she takes my arm and ushers me to the entryway, closer to the staircase, as though needing to lean on it to fix her heel. But in a lowered voice, she says, "Go get closer to that door, in thirty seconds no one will see
you slip right in."
"What? No, Emily—"
In my relief to see her, I'd forgotten the reason I haven't told her about the anonymous gifts. About the photograph sent through the printer to taunt me. I wanted to keep her out of it. Keep her safe. And now here she is, offering to jump in headfirst for me.
Before I can finish my rebuttal, Emily Stone walks off, heels clicking against the entryway floor as she makes her way back into the crowded living room. She stops suddenly and grasps the shoulder of one of the waiters carrying a tray of appetizers.
I hold my breath, silently begging her not to do anything too stupid, or too dramatic.
Don't, Emily. Don't…
Her legs seem to give out from under her, and the waiter is forced to drop the tray to try to catch her. She collapses in a dramatic heap, along with the tray of tiny food plates crashing onto to the floor in a deafening clatter.
Without pausing to look at the reaction of the commotion, I hurry toward the door a few feet away from the staircase, and slip inside the room.
I press my back to the door, breathing fast. And despite the way my heart seems intent on punching a hole through my chest, I still manage to cover my face and laugh.
I love that crazy bitch.
Gathering myself, I refocus on my surroundings. The room is dimly lit compared to the house beyond the door. The brown walls and dark wood furniture probably meant to give it a cozy feel, instead lend to the notion of entering the deepest part of a cave.
I hurry forward, passing the black leather couch to reach the wide, mahogany desk. My heart rate increases even further, nerves clouding my mind until I have to verbally remind myself what I'm here for.
The Polaroids. Polaroids.
Where would he keep the Polaroids?
The desk must have a half-dozen drawers and I start opening them, one by one, and rummaging carelessly through their contents. The floorboard creaks outside of the door and I snap the drawer shut and stand upright.
The doorknob turns. I dash to the front of the desk, just as the door opens, bringing with it a rush of sounds from the party outside, as well as a man I know quite well.
"What the hell are you doing in here?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Reed
I SHUT THE DOOR the moment I step into the room, not interested in having to explain to anyone why Amelia and I have wandered into the mayor's private home office.
Not until I get answers myself.
Amelia's rooted to the spot, staring at me wide-eyed. Her mouth parts in response to my question, but she doesn't have a chance to speak. Footsteps sound from the other side of the door.
Someone else is about to join us.
If possible, Amelia's eyes round even further, and fear blares within them. Instinct drives me forward. Snatching her arm, I pull her through the only other door in the room, hoping it will lead us to another room. Instead, we step into a closet, luckily one just big enough to fit us both inside. I pull the door closed, plunging us into pitch darkness, just as the other door's handle clicks open.
Footsteps carry into the office. Multiple sets.
Something brushes past my uniform sleeve and, not being able to see a damn thing, I reach out, setting my palm flat against…her stomach?
She goes still and we listen to a voice rising up from an indiscernible whisper to a hiss.
"…because someone recognized her. Now I want you to find her and escort her out of my house. Quietly."
"Of course, sir."
A pause.
One set of footsteps seems to cross the floor, and the door opening and shutting suggests they've left.
Just one person left. Footsteps move farther into the room and away from this closet. There's a creak of furniture.
I squeeze the space between my eyes. It's ridiculous to hide in the damn closet instead of trying to come up with a decent excuse as to why we'd be in here in the first place. Had we stayed in the office, perhaps we could've pretended to have been drunk and stumbled in for some privacy. It would've been less embarrassing than being caught like this.
A loud exhale sounds from the office, and a string of mumbling I can't discern. This is followed by another creak of furniture and footsteps. The door creaks open again, and the footsteps mix in with the sounds from the party before the door closes, cutting it all out.
Her head lands on my chest, bringing up the sweet smell of her shampoo. I go to open the closet door, but she seems to anticipate my move and says, "No, wait. Just wait."
I feel my way up to cup her face, my fingertips land on the soft spot under her ears and are met with frantic pulsing under her skin.
She's terrified.
"What's going on?"
My question makes her sag against me and my arms wrap around her instinctively, giving her a soft squeeze. She breathes in, long and shaky.
"Fuck," she says on another exhale.
She's still trembling. I lower my face to the top of her head, unsure why she's so upset.
"Were they talking about you?" I ask, my voice so low it might as well be a rumble.
She goes still.
"I don't know." The moment she says this I know it's a lie. "Fuck, I can't stop shaking."
I reach past her before she can stop me and open the closet door a crack. The dim light from the office is enough to fill the small space, illuminating her terrified face.
The moment the light lands on her, she springs into action. She pulls away from me to rush back into the office, jogging behind the desk and rummaging through the drawers.
I'm taken off guard, staring at her. She's searching through the drawers in a frenzy, not caring about disrupting what's inside and giving away that she was here.
I stand at the office door as a dozen thoughts tick in my head.
She lets out a sudden gasp.
"Oh my God," she says, holding up a stack of pictures.
She stuffs them into her purse and hurries back to my side. My chest rises and falls in steady intervals, as I try to contain my anger. At first, she doesn't look at me, too focused on slipping off her shoes.
She pulls open the office door a sliver to peer out, then looks at me and says, "We need to get to your car."
"Not until—"
But she doesn't wait for me to finish. She slips out into the hall, and by the time I come out, she's hurrying down to the front doors without a glance back to check who could be watching.
I curse under my breath and follow her.
"Where'd you park?" she asks, barely slowing to put on her shoes.
I snatch her purse away and she makes a sound of protest, but falls in step alongside me. When I pull out one of the pictures she took from the mayor's desk, I nearly drop it.
I'm not sure what I was expecting. But it wasn't this.
A naked woman lies on her back, legs spread wide and back arched in invitation of the man's hand at the corner of the frame, penetrating her with the top of a champagne flute.
The woman's face is partially obscured, and not having confirmation of who it is makes a fist clench at my gut.
Amelia walks ahead of me, searching for my car.
"Who is this?" I ask, surprising myself with the way I bite out the words.
"Where's your car?" she asks, impatient.
I check over my shoulder in time to see the silhouette of someone in the front doorway of the mansion.
I pull my car key from my pocket and hit the unlock button, eliciting a double beeping noise and turning on the headlights. Amelia half-jogs to the car and I have no choice but to follow. When I reach her, she snatches her purse back and slides into the passenger seat. I get into the driver's seat, start the engine, and peel away in an angry squeal of tires.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Amelia
MY HEART THUNDERS IN my chest, bringing a surge of energy that makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs. I can't believe I pulled it off.
That was such a fucking rush.
&
nbsp; Sebastian's car speeds down the highway, his hands clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. Despite his anger, my own cheeks burn under the strain of the ear-to-ear grin threatening to split my face.
"Do you realize the position you just put me in? You need to start talking," he orders, without glancing my way.
I know he's upset, but the raw intensity coursing through my body only gains traction as I watch him. The lights from the road wash over him in waves, accentuating the sharp edges of his masculine face. The sight of him in his uniform kindles a bottomless craving only one thing could quell. He is beguiling. Sadistically attractive. The type of good-looking that tortures my insides and twists me into a feverish, gluttonous mess. Vivid memories flicker through my mind, bare flesh and panting breaths, and my skin prickles in carnal anticipation.
"Pull over," I say, my breathing working up to a pant.
He shoots me a look, eyes narrowing at the low and tempting way the words drift from my lips. His jaw remains locked in displeasure, but his stern expression only turns me on even more. He takes the next exit, and a few miles down the road, pulls into a darkened store parking lot, abandoned this time of night. Sebastian barely has the car in park before I lunge for him, taking his earlobe into my mouth and sliding my hand over the front of his uniform pants.
"I need you," I breathe out, not caring about anything but the flames tickling the skin between my thighs.
But Sebastian takes hold of my hand and forces me to look at him. His expression should intimidate me, would make anyone else cower in a corner. He's furious and waves of anger drift off of him. But in my enraptured state, it's only gasoline to an already dangerous flame.
"Is it you in the pictures?"
His question crashes into me and I instantly freeze.
"What? No…"
His shoulders sag a fraction as though this had been his biggest fear. I barely have the capacity to register this, my need for him is excruciating, wrapped around me like vicious tendrils. He releases my hand and it falls back to his lap, where I caress over his pants as I continue to kiss him.
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