by Casey Diam
Twisting my key into the lock, I entered the old-fashioned foyer with its dark wood flooring, quaint furniture, and the burgundy color that accented the entire household’s decor.
The place I used to call home was like a prison.
My father’s voice carried from the room to my left as he shouted, “I warned you. Yet you still did it. You aren’t a fucking kid anymore.”
“It’s just a tattoo. It won’t show,” Brad explained.
“You’re goddamn right it won’t show because, from this point forward, you’re wearing long sleeves on the jobs, even in the summer. It’s either that or you start working at the hotel with Caleb.”
I budged into the living room, and my father looked up.
“I expected this from him. Not you.”
It goes without saying that I am the disappointment. I’m the one evidence gets built against while everyone else gets to do whatever the fuck they want.
Since I’m the one who wants nothing to do with this, I’m the one who will take the fall. Why? Because I’m the one who will most likely make them get caught.
Brad turned his head with a scowl, and I mirrored his expression.
The displeasure was mutual, but it was to my benefit he was here.
“I’ll wait in the office,” I said, walking by them.
Once inside, I opened my briefcase on the floor next to the bookshelf in the corner. I needed to add a small camera to my father’s office, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so. And, from this angle, I could see who else had access to the vault down under. Removing the multitool from my pocket, I pulled one of the black leather-bound books from the shelf above my eye-level and sliced one corner of the thick sheet inside that bound the book together. Continuing to listen in on the conversation outside the door, I used one of the sharp, pointed tools to twist a hole close to the top.
“I’m bored,” Brad complained. “I told you to put me on that old job the others keep fucking up. I’m perfect for it, and you know it.”
“You were perfect for it, not anymore,” Dad responded. “You know how easy it is to give the description of a guy with a spiderweb tattoo on his elbow? You’d be done in no time.”
“It won’t matter. She won’t see it. I could easily take her the same night.”
“Shut up. This is your problem; you talk too fucking much. We’re not taking her.”
“Why not—”
It went quiet for a moment, but I didn’t hear any footsteps. A lump formed in my throat as I got distracted by what they were saying and not saying. It had to be about Paige.
The clock ticked on the wall. He could walk in at any second. Peeling a piece of duct tape, I cut a small part to seal the camera in place and then a larger part to seal where I’d cut the binding in the interior of the book. My heart thumped faster, and sweat beaded on my forehead as I closed the book, set it back on the shelf, and then stood with my briefcase. Letting out a breath, I went to sit in the single chair positioned before the wooden desk, a moment before I felt Alex Connor’s presence in the room.
He took a seat behind his desk, and I wasn’t surprised when I saw the suspicious glint in his eyes.
“What have you been up to? Your brother said you haven’t been around.”
“I haven’t been around because I’ve been taking care of your legal assets,” I said, ensuring the sarcasm in my tone was perceptible. Flicking the switch on my briefcase, I pulled out the brown paper envelope and set it on his desk. “The property in New York is ready, and the concierge is commendable. The helipad accessibility is just as they say. I have the contract for you to sign from the leasing agent and a copy of the key. Everything else is set.”
He pulled the documents from the envelope and signed each page where the sticky plastic arrows pointed. As he shoved the papers back into the envelope, I stood to leave, but as I grasped the envelope, he didn’t let go.
Instead, his face grew hard. “Is it time I remind you where your loyalty lies?”
My jaw tightened as I stared into dark eyes beaded into a clean-shaven face. “What are you talking about?”
“You seem... distracted.”
Knowing what his threat meant, I shook my head and walked out. Alex Connor had the ability to break me, the ability to lead a trail right to my doorstep, the ability to send me to jail in a way that ensured nothing would fall back on him or the others. So, no, I didn’t take those threats lightly because he owned me. Like he owned every one of the men who worked for him.
Once in my car, I threw my briefcase on the passenger seat and scrubbed my hand over my face before pushing the Start button.
When I got to the apartment, I logged into the camera feed to make sure it was working. It was, but the sound was shit, so I couldn’t hear the conversation that went on with either myself and Alex Connor or when my brother joined him in the office after I left. I changed over to the feed from Paige’s apartment and started it from where I’d stopped the last time, which was prior to our arrival back in Boston when I needed to make sure her apartment was safe.
The front door opened, and Paige walked inside with her weapon at the ready. I inclined my head as I watched the feed, wondering if I’d missed something. The time stamp said it was thirteen fifteen, so I assumed this was right after she left downtown. She checked any possible points where someone could have hidden in her apartment before she disappeared into her closet.
My phone rang, and I picked up on the second ring when I saw it was Calvin. “Hey, what’s up?”
“We lost her.”
“What? How? She should be at work.”
“She isn’t. She got off the train, went inside the gym, and hasn’t come out. The gym closed almost two hours ago,” Calvin informed.
“Fuck. Have one of the guys check the bar, but don’t leave your position. She might still be in there. I’ll send her a text to see if she responds.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Paige
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and I could feel my nightgown sticking to my thighs. I’d never climbed up the fire escape this fast or at night. Or in the rain. It made the steel ladder slippery, but barefooted, I could feel the cold, wet metal bruising my feet as it banged against the metal each time I went for a step.
As I reached a little way above the first story, a hand circled my ankle and pulled. The suddenness of it caused only one of my hands to stay secured on the ladder as the man yanked on my leg. I kicked at him with my other leg, trying to get a grip on the frame with my flailing hand, but instead, my other hand slips.
“Paige? Can you hear me? Are you okay?” a deep, mysterious voice asked.
“I—what? My dad. Please, help my dad.”
Blue and red lights flashed in the distance, and a bright light passed over my vision, blinding me.
“Where’s your dad?”
“I’ll show you.” I tried to get up but couldn’t move. What was happening? Why couldn’t I move?
“Paige, baby...” the mysterious voice said again.
“What are you still doing up?” the voice continued, only it kind of sounded like my father’s this time.
“Dad?” I whispered.
“No, Paige.”
My father’s limp physique in the studio chair flashed before my eyes, blood running down his face right before his head lifted to look at me. “Wake up!”
I screamed, grabbing ahold of something, someone. Gasping as if I’d been underwater for too long and was coming up for air.
Caleb.
I was with Caleb. Not back at the house. Not soaked in rain. Not waking up from a concussion at the side of my house. But I was wet and sweating profusely.
A shirtless Caleb sat at the edge of the mattress next to me, watching me.
God, this is so embarrassing.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, picking at the moist tank sticking to my chest. “I can’t believe I sweat like this all over your bed. I’ll bring your sheets to the laundry.”
&
nbsp; “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.”
He brushed a hand over my cheek, and his tenderness was killing me. I’d done nothing but ruin every moment between us since we met. Yet, here he was again, being nice.
“Did something happen to your dad?”
“What? Why would you ask that?” I swallowed, looking around the vacant room as fragments of my nightmare came back. “Was I talking in my sleep?”
“No. Not much anyway. You screamed right after you asked for him.”
“It’s nothing.” Lowering my eyes, I threaded my fingers together.
“TTM?”
I nodded. “What time is it?”
“A little before six.”
“Crap, I need to—wait, you were already up?” I asked, peering at the coffee cup on the floor next to the mattress.
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”
It had been two days since I’d been able to sleep.
The two days I’d ignored his text messages and calls as I hid inside a hotel by myself. Last night, I’d come crawling back to his bed like a motherless kitten because he was right; I did sleep better next to him.
But does he sleep better next to me?
“I’m sorry. Was it because of me?”
He shook his head. “No.” Then he sighed. “I don’t know. What do you want me to do when you’re having a nightmare? Is it worse when I try to wake you from it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to wake you when it happens?”
I nodded because I’d rather be in reality any day than be stuck in a nightmare.
“Do you get them often?”
“Sometimes. It depends,” I said before biting my tongue.
I shouldn’t have said that because it opened up the question of what it depended on, and I couldn’t tell him it depended on how close my gut told me the men were to finding me. He’d think I was crazy—or rather, crazier. Though, shockingly, he never looked at me as if I were crazy. A deep concern was etched in his features every now and then when he looked at me, but that was it.
His next words surprised me. That was what I liked most about him. Caleb didn’t push for answers like the three guys I’d tried to date in the past. He was just there, giving me the freedom to decide what I disclosed to him.
“It makes me feel helpless when I see it happening to you. I wish I could make it stop.”
I bit the smile on my lips as my stomach fluttered. Caleb made dating easy.
Holy crap, I’m dating... Caleb Connor, and it feels... good.
“Maybe you can help. I don’t feel so sore anymore,” I said, lowering my eyes to my pelvis beneath the sheets. Hint, hint.
A smile stretched across his lips. “Oh, Paige, don’t tempt me. Because whoever you’re tutoring this morning before your class will be very disappointed when it’s seven thirty, and you’re still naked beneath me.”
My lips parted, and my body heated as he observed the two tiny peaks poking through my tank top.
Clearing my throat, I muttered, “Whatever. I don’t believe you.”
A wicked grin replaced his heart-throbbing smile, and he leaned over, kissing me before I had time to complain about my morning breath. His hand pulled the neckline of my tank down to expose a nipple that he apprehended with his mouth.
“Caleb, stop. I’m all sweaty and gross.”
He sucked harder, causing my back to arch from the bed.
A low moan commenced my next words. “I was kidding. Please, I need to go.” I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay right here and feel everything.
“Do you really?” he asked, manipulating my other nipple between his fingers.
“Yes,” I panted as an aching need throbbed between my thighs. “Oh my God.”
He stopped, sat up, and then lifted his coffee cup from the floor as he stood.
“No,” I whined. “Why did you stop?”
“I thought you had to go.” He smirked.
“But—” My eyes dropped to the fascinating bulge in his pants, and I threw my head back onto the pillow. “Ugh.”
“Welcome to the world of sexual frustration.” He raised his cup as one would in a toast.
“You’re so... ugh!”
❧
Stilts Bar’s polished wooden tables, brick walls, and the conversational crowd were what attracted me to applying for a job here two years ago. Besides that, the alternative music and top forty blasting the airwaves were as energizing as the tall, gorgeous blonde next to me. I was starting to think red lipstick was her Friday night go-to.
“What’s that look for?” Chelsey asked, popping the caps off two bottles of beer and passing them to the two young college guys at the counter in exchange for the twenty-dollar bill one of them handed her.
“I just noticed, you always wear red on Friday nights.”
“Friday is payday, and red is exotic, confident. Men’s weakness in a nutshell.” She pressed a kiss to my cheek as she turned to the register behind her.
She was definitely working extra for the tips tonight, and I was all for it. After I’d spotted that man on the train, the distressing feeling about my apartment being unsafe was too much to bear, and I wasn’t having any luck in finding a new apartment on such short notice. So, I needed all the tips I could get for hotels.
When our new bartender arrived, Chelsey headed to the back for her break, and I joined her a few minutes later.
“Tell me, what am I going to do when you leave?” I asked, pulling out a chair from the small plastic table.
“I still have a whole year left before my residency starts.”
“I know, but still, what am I going to do?” I pouted.
“Probably switch roles with the new bartender. Frankly, some people have it, and some just don’t.”
“I don’t.” I shook my head, thinking of our manager, John. “Don’t you even put that idea in John’s head
“Look at it this way. There’ll be no tips for you to split if you aren’t the one who takes over.”
I groaned. “Don’t leave me.”
She rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward. “How’s Caleb?”
“Okay, I guess.”
Chelsey chuckled. “Honestly, I don’t know how it’s going to work between you two. You don’t talk much, and he doesn’t talk much.” She leaned back in her chair. “I don’t trust him, by the way.”
I got up from the folding chair and walked to the fridge in the corner. As I removed a bottle of water, I said, “I’ve been staying at his place.” When I turned around, Chelsey’s eyebrows were raised so high, they almost touched her hairline. “What?” I asked, twisting the cap off the bottle.
“I’ve only seen you with that one college dude over a year ago. Now, you’ve just met this guy and... wait, are you not into relationships or something?”
“Uh, what? I don’t know.”
“Do you want a relationship with him?”
I paused, not wanting to answer a question I had only come to terms with this morning. “Why are you asking?”
“Oh, Paige.” Chelsey frowned. “A guy who looks like Caleb, who doesn’t talk about himself, and who is more than eager to have you in his bed the first couple of nights is only after one thing, and it isn’t a relationship.”
The hollow in my chest that had been closed opened, and loneliness took its rightful place.
The first couple of nights? When would he stop wanting me?
My throat dried, and I brought the bottle of water to my mouth and swallowed until my head cleared.
Chelsey stood as I sat down. “I need to get back, but trust me, Paige. Guys like Caleb don’t stick around. If you want more, you should really think about what you’re doing with him.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Caleb
As I parked at the curb for Stilts Bar, I switched off my car lights and waited for Paige. She’d tried to discourage me from picking her up, but I wasn’t giving her the choice.
&nbs
p; Within a few minutes of waiting, a car reversed into the parallel-parking space behind me, and from my rearview mirror, I recognized the face in the driver’s seat as the streetlight gleamed inside at the perfect angle. I lost sight of him again as he pulled closer to my rear bumper. But it all made sense. The guy from the picture in the alley that night with Paige had to be Chelsey’s boyfriend.
The front doors to the bar opened, and the girls walked out along with three other men, the security detail presumably. Paige headed straight toward me while waving at the guy in the car behind me.
“Hey,” she said, sitting and closing the door.
My eyes remained on the rearview mirror as light appeared inside the vehicle behind me. Chelsey’s boyfriend glared at my car, but my tint was too dark for anyone to see inside. Still, it was clear to me, he was undoubtedly asking about Paige.
“How was work?” I asked, raising my hand to cup the nape of her neck.
“Good, just tired. It’s been a long day.”
I leaned over the center console and kissed her cheek before switching on the car lights and pulling out of the parking space. Then, dropping my hand to her thigh, I squeezed, letting the thought of how her legs would be wrapped around me later linger at the back of my mind.
My hand resting on her thigh might have been simple, but the connection to her felt good. And, when she covered my hand with hers, it became even more satisfying because the connection wasn’t just halfway.
“My place?” I asked.
She nodded but then asked the most random fucking question. “You would tell me when you were done with me, right? You wouldn’t just leave?”
“Um, what?” My attention jerked from the road to her.
“Don’t make me repeat it. I know what this is, and I just... well, I don’t know.”
My lips pressed together. She’d never spoken to me like this, sounding all passive-aggressive and shit.
