by Emily Bishop
I have a phone call I need to make.
I turn back to face Isaac and shake his arm. The muscle underneath is rock hard, even when his arm is slack, and I ponder whether we have time for a quickie before we head out. You know, to boost morale. Worked last night anyway. Our fight effectively ended, right?
Isaac blinks open his eyes, focusing in on me. “You all right?”
I laugh. I can’t help myself. “Do you know how many times you’ve asked me that in the past week?”
He shrugs, his powerful shoulder lifting and sinking back into the mattress, shifting me a little closer with the movement. “You’ve been pretty not okay a few times this week. It’s a logical question.”
I can’t disagree with him there. “Come on. Let’s see if we can get anything from that other bug before we go.”
He nods, the two of us rising and stretching before we make our way out of the small bedroom and back toward the kitchen. We don’t get that far. Wallace is sitting in the living room with a steaming cup of coffee and his laptop up and running. He looks up as we enter, and I notice Buster is at his feet.
“Good morning. Your canine friend and I have just been having breakfast. I saw you managed to secure the other bug, so I took the liberty of hacking it this morning. Would you like to hear a recording?”
Isaac and I sit across from him on the loveseat again, and he takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. We lean in as Juice pulls up the file and clicks the play button. There is more shuffling, sounds of movement, then a phone rings.
“Gareth Briggs.”
My eyes widen, and the breath leaves my body. I am hollow as I continue to listen to his one-sided conversation.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. Just shut your mouth and follow orders, okay? I’m just finishing up a job. Oh, because you never take a phone call on duty? Shut the fuck up, man. I’ll see you later.”
His tone is jovial, like he is talking to a friend. There is some more shuffling around before we hear the door close, and the recording ends. It’s like I’m dying all over again.
I don’t want to look over at Isaac because I’m scared of the smug expression I can just imagine on his face but when I work up the courage to do so, there’s nothing but a dark glower on his chiseled face.
“I’ve wanted to punch that guy’s face in from the moment I saw him. Now I know why.”
Wallace lifts a furry eyebrow at us. “I take it you know this man?”
I nod, still feeling cavernous inside. That empty space begins to fill with fury, a slow, boiling rage that will not be tamed. I rise, unable to sit another minute. “Professor Wallace, I can’t thank you enough for your help. You’ve been a literal lifesaver.”
Wallace shrugs, rising as he faces Isaac and me, and he holds out his hand. “I’ll be a lifesaver if you don’t have to come back a third time,” he corrects me warmly.
I blink. “I’ve been here before?”
Wallace nods with a sad smile. “A couple weeks ago,” he explains. “You needed a tracking device deactivated. Here’s hoping the third time is the charm.”
I want to hug him but I remember that Wallace was never a big fan of hugs. He shakes Isaac’s hand before checking the television prompters in his safe room, deeming it secure for us to depart.
He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a gun, holding it out to us. “In case you want extra protection.”
I stare at the weapon, considering, but Isaac shakes his head.
“We won’t need it. I’m ready to beat the shit out of all of them myself. A gun is the easy way out.”
Wallace shrugs. “Suit yourself. Good luck.”
We thank him one last time before we make our exit, calling a local car service on our walk back, mostly just to have witnesses present to scare off any ambushes. By the time we get there, a tow truck is parked by the ditch, and they remove the truck without issue. When Isaac sits in the driver’s seat, he hesitates, then turns the key. The engine purrs without protest, sounding perfectly healthy. He casts a wary glance at me but we have no other way to get home. I send up a silent wish that we get home in one piece, so that I can tear my betrayers to pieces.
The drive back is just as tense and silent as the trip out. I pull out my phone and find Chantel’s phone number, opening up a text message. I tell her that I need to talk, and can we have tea at the coffee shop down the street from my house? She readily agrees, excited to catch up after I left her the other day.
Fucking bitch.
The familiar streets of Somerville are a welcoming sight, and I’m keen for a hot shower and a new outfit. Isaac pulls into the parking lot across the street and we head inside. Buster sniffs around the yard before joining us but even he seems excited to be home.
Isaac stops outside my door. “We should clear out the rest of the bugs if you plan on going inside for anything,” he says, the paragon of sensibility.
I pull my keys out from my purse and open the door, the two of us silent as we comb through the apartment six or seven times. Once we’re convinced that we have all of them, I leave Isaac to take them. I don’t care if he crushes them. I got the information I needed.
He hesitates outside my door, and I wave him off with a silent thank you. Buster scratches at the door upstairs, calling for Isaac in his own way, and with one last lingering look at me, he disappears. He takes a piece of me with him.
I close the door, glancing nervously around me. I’ve unplugged everything in the apartment, so I shouldn’t get any more unexpected surprises. I make quick work of showering and changing, and by the time I’m ready, Chantel has texted that she’s next door. I make quick work of walking over, opening the jingling door to the smell of warm coffee and baked breads. Chantel is seated at a corner table, and she waves to me with enthusiasm.
I don’t bother to smile back.
I sit in the chair across from her and stare at her silently.
Chantel sips her coffee, watching me with a bored expression. “What are you, hungover?”
I reach into my purse and feel my fingertips wrap around her bug, pulling it from the bag and slamming it on the table. When she sees it, her expression falters.
She stares at it before looking up at me. “What is that thing?” she asks, trying to feign ignorance.
Not today.
“It’s the bug you planted in my apartment. I know because I accessed the cloud and heard your voice on the device. I also found the one Gareth planted, too.”
She stares at me, cogs working behind her eyes. I don’t move, and my expression doesn’t change. She’s not going to lie to me anymore. I already detest her for it.
“So, I’m left with one of two options,” I say, letting the suspense draw out. I want her to sweat bullets. I want her to be afraid after what she did to me. I don’t know how far her involvement goes but I know she’s involved, and that makes her an accomplice to my attempted murder. I let the words hang in the air for another minute before I continue.
“I can call the cops with all the data I have on file and let you rot in prison while I pick up the pieces of my life, or I can take information from you to lead me to the ring leader of this whole show, and let you walk free knowing what a piece of shit you are. Personally, I’m a bigger fan of the first option.”
Chantel pales at my words. I’ve scared her. Good. She leaves her coffee to go cold on the table before she leans in, her voice hushed. “Look, I didn’t want you to get hurt in all this, okay? I get that you’re pissed, and you have every right to be, but I’m not the one you want. The people who were after you are having a confidential meeting tonight. I can get information for you and help you out.”
I scoff. Is this woman for real?
“You think I’m going to trust you to gather information for me? Give me the address. I’ll investigate myself.”
Chantel shrugs a delicate shoulder before pulling out a small notepad and scribbling an address on it. She hands it to me, and I take good care not to touch her as I tak
e the paper. I check the address, which is local, and I look back up at her.
“If this is a false lead, I will have no qualms about going straight to the cops about you. Understood?”
She nods, rising from the table. She looks down at me, sorrow in her eyes. Too bad I can’t believe it. “I didn’t want things to go this way, Scarlett. You have no reason to believe me but it is true.”
I don’t have a reply to that, so I stare at the wall as she walks out, the door tinkling behind her. I stare at her unfinished cup of coffee, and I start to plan. I will be the one going to that meeting. I will find out who did this and I will use that information against them. I will go to the cops, the FBI, I don’t care.
Now that I know where and when to find them, I prepare to take them down.
17
Isaac
I’m sitting on my couch watching TV when there’s a gentle knock at my door. Turning the sound down, I rise and open it, surprised to see Scarlett standing there. I’m so tempted to ask if she’s okay but as she pointed out, I do that a bit more often than I should.
I just want her to be okay. Is that so wrong?
Her eyes are lit up, and I can tell she’s excited about something. She’s wearing a clean pair of dark denim jeans and a baby blue blouse that brings out the oceanic blue of her eyes, and the usual need to bury myself in her surfaces. I do my best to think of old men showering to keep my boner at bay as she saunters in, turning to face me.
“I met with Chantel just now,” she says, her tone laced with triumph.
I lift an eyebrow, waiting for her to go on. “And?”
“And she was willing to cooperate,” she says, nearly skipping toward the couch, plopping down on it as she kicks her feet up. I join her, sitting next to her, wanting to be close to her. Somehow, I’ve developed some kind of addiction to Scarlett, so that when we are apart, I feel an intense withdrawal.
What I need is to get back to my fucking job. I checked my phone six times this morning for a call from Rory, all to no avail. He does know that he’s paying me for nothing, right? The old man can’t be that stubborn.
Maybe he can.
“What do you mean, Chantel was willing to cooperate?” I ask, truly curious.
“I met her in the coffee shop on the corner, showed her the bug and gave her two choices: jail or information. She was smart enough to choose the latter.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She gave me the address for a meeting tonight with the ones who did this to me. I’m hoping that seeing them will jog my memory enough to get to the bottom of all this and bring them to justice.”
Her words wash over me, their meaning sinking in slowly, since I can’t believe she would be this fucking reckless, again.
“When you say that you plan on seeing them…” I lead, and I wait for her to finish.
I can tell she doesn’t like my tone. She stiffens and moves away from me, scooting toward the other end of the sofa.
“I mean that I’m going to crash that meeting and get a full view of my attackers.”
I inhale, holding the breath as though it will keep my frustration and anger inside. When it doesn’t I look back at her only to find her glaring up at me, daring me to tell her not to go.
You want a dare? Let’s dance.
“No.”
Scarlett stands, and I can tell she’s ready for a fight again. I’m fine with that. I’d rather argue with Scarlett alive than attend her funeral because I didn’t keep her from getting herself killed.
“I didn’t ask for your permission,” she says, her words biting.
“I don’t care if you did. You can’t go to that meeting. Are you crazy?”
“Am I crazy for wanting to find out who tried to kill me? I don’t know, maybe I should just live out the rest of my life in fear, knowing that some unknown entity could come for me at any fucking moment. Does that work better for you?”
I stand to meet her where she is, and her eyes narrow as she looks up at me.
“There are reasons why police exist. They have guns and training for this kind of thing.”
“I don’t have enough proof to get the cops involved. I need more evidence before I can bring it to them. They’re not going to listen!”
“What, you mean when you bring a bug to their desk with clear evidence of the people who were involved?”
“I told Chantel that I wouldn’t rat her out if she gave me this information.”
“Who gives a fuck what you told Chantel? You think she’d stay true to her word when given to you? Because she has such a stellar history of doing that?”
“Why don’t you get that this is something that I have to do on my own?”
“Why don’t you get that you’re going to die if you do?”
“I am not some helpless victim here, Isaac. I am a woman capable of solving my own problems! The cops can’t be trusted, okay? I know people like this. They have connections. You don’t think it’s a little weird that nothing has come of the investigation? That Mullins hasn’t even contacted us again? It’s insane! ” She stamps her foot. “I’m doing it on my own. I can handle it!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that you’ve never been tied to a chair in a burning building. I’m sure you can handle anything.”
She knows that what I’m saying is true. Deep down, she has to know it.
“Why do you even care?” she whispers.
Her eyes are hard but deep inside them.
How have I managed to let another woman into my life? It can’t end well. But when she asks me how I can care, I stare into her eyes and ask how I could not.
My body reacts, shutting out my brain and the stupid pile of thoughts that are clouding it. I pull her to me and crush my lips against hers, claiming them, absorbing them into my own. My tongue cracks her lips open and explores her mouth. Lucky for me, her tongue meets mine in the exchange, and my dick hardening as our slick mouths come together.
I hold her ass in my clutching hands and kiss her until we can hardly breathe.
“I don’t know if this means anything but if I can forbid you to go, I forbid it.”
She palms my cheek with her hand. “Isaac, shut up.” She pulls me back down to her, effectively shutting my mouth with her own, kissing me deeply. I decide to take her advice and wrap my arms around her. I press her against me, our bodies connected all the way down.
In the light of day, she looks stunning, her hair shining with little strands of gold between the fiery curls. I run my fingers through it, savoring her. I want to remember this. I want to memorize every detail of her body, so that if this situation tears us apart, I can at least have the memories.
I take a few steps backward until I’m standing on my living room rug. It’s a nice, thick rug, and I scoop Scarlett’s knees, lowering her onto it until she’s on her back, kissing and sucking on her cherry lips all the while. We take our time. Maybe she can feel it, too. There’s a sense of finality here. My fingertips brush along her creamy abdomen, sliding up beneath her shirt until I reach the smooth fabric of her bra underneath. That doesn’t stop me. I reach the top edge of the bra and tug it down, exposing one nipple as I roll it between my fingertips. She arches into my hand, and I give her a little pinch. She lets out a little moan before I move to the next breast.
One must provide equal treatment, after all.
As I circle her right nipple with my fingertips, my other hand drifts to her thigh, sliding up her leg slowly until it meets the heat from her pussy even through her jeans. I run my fingers up and down, pleasuring her top and bottom at once while she arches and moans into my mouth. Finally I stop, pulling my hand from her shirt as I grab the hem of her blouse and pull it over her head, exposing her silky pale breasts, her nipples rock hard. I reach behind her and unsnap her bra, tossing it aside. I want to roll my tongue along those nipples, to get them glistening, but I want to see all of her first.
I unbutton the top of her jeans and roll the zipper down, tugging
the offensive garment all the way down, pulling off her socks and shoes along the way until everything is piled in a heap on the floor behind us. She is laying naked on my living room floor, her eyes glazed over with lust as she stares up at me, asking with her eyes for me to explore her.
And I’m going to.
I run my fingertips up her calves, her knees, her thighs again. Her pussy is shaved and pink and glistening, and I almost lose control then and there.
I slowly pull her knees apart, spreading her, watching her lips open up as I do so. I run my index finger along the length of her slit, circling her clit with my finger a few times before I plunge my middle finger into her entrance, her silky cunt dripping as I slide my finger in and out, looking up to watch her face.
She’s watching me, her eyes glued to her pussy as she sees me fuck her with my finger. I slow the pace, and her hips press forward. I can’t resist anymore. I need a taste of her. I dip my head down and circle her clit with my tongue, pointing it as I recite the alphabet with it.
She’s still watching me. Our eyes meet, and I grin at her before I remove my finger and replace it with my tongue, fucking her with it, lengthening it as long as it will go, tasting deep inside her.
She cries out, arching back as she rides my tongue. I grab her ass and plunge deeper, my thumb moving to her clit and rubbing it as she fucks my mouth. Her legs are shaking as her orgasm builds, and I fuck her deeper, my tongue sliding in and out as she screams.
When she comes, my mouth is filled with her juices, and I lap them up, the taste of her spurring my erection on. I sit back, prepared to wipe my chin, but before I do, she is sitting up, her hands stopping mine.
“Wait,” she says. “Let me use some of this. Lie back.”
I follow her orders, laying where she was, the rug warm. Her juices are still covering my face as she carefully lifts my shirt off my body, following my lead and unzipping my pants, tugging them down and freeing my erection. Our clothes mingle in a pile as she combs her fingers along my dick, running them along my balls, teasing me. I follow her lead and watch, seeing everything perfectly clear in the light of day. She leans forward and places my dick between her breasts, running them up and down the shaft as she looks up at me.
