Unsuitable

by Samantha Towle

  Bastard.

  “Is this okay?” I gesture to the cloth in my hand. “I thought I’d give your office a clean while you were out. I didn’t think it was still off-limits, but if—”

  “Of course it’s fine.” His eyes smile warmly at me.

  I stare back at him, and I can’t see anything off in his expression—not that I can usually tell what he’s thinking. He’s so closed off.

  But his warm demeanor is telling me that he doesn’t suspect anything.

  Maybe he just thinks I’m not smart enough to have seen through his lies.

  Fucker.

  Knowing that he underestimates how smart I am actually stings. And it pisses me off even more.

  “I can’t believe I told you not to come in here. I was such a dick.” He walks over to me.

  I put the cloth down and turn to meet him. He wraps his arms around my waist.

  I hide my anger and try to act natural.

  I’m not taking him to court over this until I know what’s behind that door.

  Once I know, I’m going to kick his arse over lying to me. Depending on what I find, of course.

  “Well, I’m not disagreeing with you. You were a dick.”

  He grins down at me, and it leaves a warm feeling in my chest.

  He’s a liar, Daisy. A big, fat liar. There’s a door behind that bookcase to prove it.

  “I promise never to be a dick to you again.” He leans down and brushes his lips over mine. “Only to use my dick for pleasurable purposes when it comes to you.”

  My vagina stands to attention.

  Down, girl. We have a trickster in our midst.

  “How’s the horse?” I ask. My words come out hoarse and husky. I might be pissed off at Kas, but my body likes him a lot, and apparently, all it takes is the mention of his cock to send me off to Sexville.

  “It’s got laminitis. Cooper caught it early, which is good. The vet prescribed an anti-inflammatory. That’s why I came back—to grab my wallet. I’m heading to the vet’s office to pick up the prescription. Cooper’s going to stay with the horse. Do you want to come with me?”

  “To the vet’s?” My lips purse. “But I’m working.”

  “And I’m the boss, and the boss wants his girl to come with him.” He takes ahold of my ponytail and gives it a gentle tug.

  His girl.

  Crap. That totally would have melted me faster than ice in hot water if he’d said it to me pre-lie.

  Okay, truthfully, I have melted a little. But I’m still mad.

  Hopping mad in fact.

  It’s just hard not to want him or warm to him, especially when I’m in his arms and he’s being all lovely and sweet.

  Then, it suddenly occurs to me.

  I could lose him. I might have to walk away from him. Because whatever it is that he’s hiding from me, it might be a game changer.

  Do I really want to lose Kas?

  No.

  But I also don’t want to be a blind fool.

  I have to know the truth, and the only way I’ll find out is of my own accord.

  I’m doing this to protect myself. And Jesse.

  I let him down due to a man once before. It won’t happen again.

  “Well then, I guess the boss gets what he wants.”

  “Good girl,” he murmurs.

  He kisses me again. He starts to suck on my lower lip as his hands find my butt, and my body comes to life. My hands find their way around his neck, and I kiss him back, sucking on his tongue. He groans into my mouth.

  I wind my fingers into the hair at the back of his head. He pulls me tighter into his body. And the kiss goes from sweet to molten in seconds.

  My brain is sending out rapid bat signals, but my body’s totally ignoring them.

  “God, I want you.” He breathes heavily. “Stay with me tonight. I missed you in my bed last night.”

  His words make my heart skip a beat.

  He missed me.

  “But…I’m on my period, remember?” I surprise myself with my quickness to remember to lie. But then it’s not like I could say I had my period for a day, and it was done.

  “Babe…I might want to fuck you right now—I always want to fuck you—but that’s not why I want you in my bed.” Kiss. “I want to sleep with you. Hold you. Wake up with you.”

  Oh God.

  I’m dying here. He’s being so goddamn sweet. It’s confusing me. He’s confusing me.

  Why did you have to lie to me? I want to yell at him.

  Of course I don’t say that.

  He wants me to stay the night, and that means I’ll be here when he’s sleeping.

  It was a rare chance that I got to be in Kas’s office without him here today. I don’t know when I’ll get that chance again.

  But, if I’m here and he’s fast asleep…that would give a girl plenty of time to look around, for say, maybe a key that’d open a door hidden behind a bookcase.

  God, when did I get so devious?

  Probably around the time I found myself serving eighteen months for a crime I hadn’t committed.

  Smiling up at him, I bite my lip. “Well, when you put it like that, how can a girl refuse?”

  He smiles big, and it lights up his eyes. “So, you’ll stay the night?”

  He looks so happy and boyish in this moment. I feel a stab of guilt.

  Stop. I have nothing to feel guilty about. He did this. Not me.

  If he’d been truthful with me from the start, then we wouldn’t be where we are right now. I wouldn’t be preparing to sneak around my man’s house in the dead of night, looking for a secret key to unlock a secret door.

  Reaching up on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his, hiding my own deceit, and I whisper, “Yes.”

  Thirty-Six

  I glance at Kas sleeping beside me.

  My heart is racing. My mouth is dry. My breaths are quick.

  I’m really going to do this. I’m really going to climb out of his bed and sneak downstairs to find out what’s really behind that door.

  My palms are sweating.

  I press them to the bed, trying to dry them on the bedsheet.

  Then, he moves, and I nearly shit my pants.

  Turning in his sleep, he turns to his side, facing away from me.

  Holy fuck!

  Holy fucking fuck.

  I press my trembling hand to my chest, applying pressure, trying to ease the race in my heart. It’s beating so hard and loud that I’m afraid it will actually wake him.

  I can’t wake him now. Not when I’ve just spent the last few minutes easing myself out of his arms.

  It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep after we finished making out.

  Yes, we made out.

  He made me dinner. He actually cooked for me. A guy has never done that before. He lit candles and everything. It was really romantic. Then, we curled up on the sofa with our glasses of wine and watched TV together. Well, the TV-watching didn’t last very long before we started making out like teenagers.

  Kas suggested we go to bed. I agreed.

  And we carried on with our make-out session in here. Obviously, we didn’t have sex because I’m supposed to be on my period. But, God, I wanted to.

  I wanted him so badly. I still do.

  After we finished making out, he wrapped me up in his arms and held me like he never wanted to let me go.

  And I didn’t want him to.

  But I have to.

  I have to know the truth.

  Taking a quiet, shallow breath, I slide out of bed, my bare feet touching the thick carpet.

  I cast a nervous glance back at Kas. Holding my breath, I watch the silhouette of his strong back. His breaths are deep and even. He’s fast asleep.

  And I’m doing this.

  Eyes on the half-open door, I tiptoe out of his bedroom.

  I descend the stairs on silent feet. The light on the outside porch is casting a small glow in the large hallway.

  Feeling a chill, I shiver,
wrapping my arms around myself. I only have on one of Kas’s T-shirts and my undies. I feel like I should be wearing a black cat suit or something equally badass. Not an old band T-shirt of Kas’s that carries his scent. And it’s really distracting because I love the way he smells. It brings warmth and hot memories to mind, and that makes me feel like a total bitch for sneaking around his house like this.

  Then, I remind myself that I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for him and his lying ways. I would have been lying upstairs in his arms, probably having sex right now, if he’d chosen honesty.

  But he didn’t, and here we are.

  Well, here I am.

  I tiptoe across the floor and into his office.

  I quietly close the door behind me, and then I make my way across the room and turn on his desk lamp.

  I don’t waste any time. I start searching through his desk drawers, looking for a key.

  I find one key, but it’s small and looks like it’s for a padlock or something. But, aside from that, there’s no key that would fit that door.

  Hands on hips, I survey the room.

  If I were Kas, where would I keep a key for a secret door?

  I’d keep it with me.

  I do a quick mental run-through of what he was wearing when we went upstairs. Jeans and a shirt, and he put those in the laundry basket, so there definitely isn’t a key there.

  My eyes snag on his jacket, which is hanging on the back of the door. He wore that earlier when we went to the vet’s to get the medication for the horse.

  I walk over to the jacket. I slip my hands in both pockets. My hand curls around a set of keys in the right pocket.

  I pull them out. His car keys. I stare down at them in my hand. There’s his car key, a fob—which is for the garage, I think—a Range Rover key ring…and another key.

  A Yale key.

  Holy shit.

  Blood starts to pump through my veins.

  Oh my God. This is the key. I bet this is the key!

  I rush over to the bookcase, keys in hand.

  I open up the stack, revealing the door. I single out the Yale key, and with my hand shaking, I slot the key in the door. I turn and…

  Click.

  Shit. I’m in.

  I’m actually in.

  Leaving the key in the door, I grab the handle and turn it.

  But I pause before opening.

  Am I sure I want to do this? Am I sure I want to know what’s behind this door?

  I’m not sure of anything anymore. But I do know that I need to know what he’s hiding.

  On a deep breath, I push open the door.

  A light flickers on, making me jump. It must be one of those sensor lights. My eyes adjust to the light, and I see I’m standing in the doorway of a closet-sized room.

  And in this closet-sized room are…photographs.

  Of me.

  “What…the hell?” I whisper.

  My heart starts to beat faster as I step further into the room.

  There’s a photo of me. From the day I left prison. I’m standing outside the prison, a bag in hand.

  Why does Kas have a photograph of me?

  My eyes start moving over the other photos pinned to the wall.

  Me and Cece hugging from the same day.

  Me out running.

  Me and Cece out together, the night of the club.

  Me at the Matis Estate, talking to Cooper.

  Me on the train.

  One of me with Jesse when we went to the beach.

  And…

  Jesus Christ.

  My hand reaches up to the photo.

  It’s of me with Jason. But this isn’t from the other day. This is an old photograph—from when we were together, not long before I was arrested.

  The picture was definitely taken from afar and without our knowledge.

  Jason and I are in an embrace. I’m smiling up into his face, and he’s grinning down at me.

  “Oh God,” I whisper.

  I turn in the room, eyes scanning. Every wall is covered with something—photographs, news cuttings about my arrest, trial, and imprisonment.

  Jesus, he even has my prison mug shot.

  Stepping up close, I run my fingers over the picture.

  I move over, and there’s a map with marked locations.

  One is of my apartment.

  What the hell?

  I don’t understand. Why does Kas have these?

  I move along, and my hip bumps into a table.

  No, it’s a desk and—

  “Oh, fuck,” I breathe, pressing a hand to my chest, as my heart climbs out of my throat, leaving me gasping.

  On the desk is a gun. And lined up beside the gun are four knives in various sizes. Each one looks as deadly as the other.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

  Fingers on the edge of the desk, I sidle around it, staring down at the weapons, like they’re going to come alive and attack me.

  Once I’m around the desk, I turn to the last wall. I see pictures of Haley.

  I focus in on one of the pictures. It’s of Haley and Kas. He looks so much younger.

  He looks happy.

  Pain ruptures in my chest.

  I step back, taking in the photos of Haley along with the news cuttings about her murder.

  I don’t understand what all of this is. What it means.

  Why does he have pictures of me and of Jason in here with pictures of Haley?

  Standing in the center of the room, I turn slowly, trying to take it all in, piece it all together, and my eyes catch on a photo. I didn’t spot it before because my eyes were pinned on the weapons on the table.

  But, now, I’m looking, and I’m looking hard.

  Because there’s a picture of Damien Doyle.

  And on either side of the picture of Damien are pictures of two men I don’t recognize.

  I step closer to the photos, and my stomach empties.

  The photos of the men I don’t recognize have a big red X marked over their faces.

  Damien’s is the only photo that doesn’t have an X.

  Why would—

  Oh God.

  Oh, holy fuck no.

  Just like a blow to the head, it hits me.

  A sick, hollow feeling starts to form in my gut.

  Three men.

  Haley. Kas.

  Rape. Murder.

  Red crosses mean…are they…dead?

  Oh, fuck.

  Damien’s alive.

  Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

  God. No.

  I turn, more than ready to leave this room, and my heart practically falls out of my chest.

  Kas is standing in the doorway.

  His chest is bare, and he’s wearing the black pajama bottoms he went to bed in.

  “Is there any room I can keep you out of?” He doesn’t smile.

  And I nearly piss my pants.

  His eyes run over the room, and he sighs. He folds his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder against the doorjamb.

  His impenetrable eyes meet with mine. Then, he parts his lips and says calmly, “So, I guess you have questions.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Questions?

  Do I have questions?

  Of course I have fucking questions!

  But, right now, I’m trying not to piss my pants, and I need to restart my heart to normal function because it’s decided to stop working properly.

  I part my lips. My mouth is dry, like I’ve been out in the desert for days.

  I…I don’t even know where to start.

  Kas is staring at me with those beautiful, impenetrable dark eyes of his, giving me nothing.

  But he doesn’t need to give me anything because I’m pretty sure I’ve figured it all out by myself.

  Damien Doyle was part of the gang that…

  And Kas has been…

  Jesus, I can’t even say the words.

  I lick my lips, trying to give aid to speech. “I…” I wrap my a
rms over my stomach, my eyes flickering around the room.

  He has pictures of me from before we even knew each other.

  Or maybe Kas knew me a long time before I knew him.

  Oh, fuck.

  “I…you…” I stammer. “Wh-why do you have photos of me? An-and Damien Doyle?”

  “I think you know why.”

  “Oh God,” I whisper, trembling.

  He sighs again. “I didn’t ever want you to find out, Daisy.”

  No fucking kidding! I wish to God I hadn’t found out.

  Me and my snooping fucking nose.

  “Y-you…th-the pictures of those men.”

  “Evan Foster, Levi Betts, and of course, you know Damien Doyle.”

  “Ar-are they…” I lift a shaking, helpless hand to his scarred torso. His eyes squeeze shut. “Are they the men who did that to you and Haley?”

  He breathes deeply through his nose. His eyes open. “Yes.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I whisper. “An-and what do the crosses on Evan’s and Levi’s faces mean?”

  “It means they’re dead, Daisy.”

  Holy fuck.

  I want to cry. And run. Far, far away.

  I swallow past the bricks lodged in my throat. “Ho-how did they die?”

  He adjusts his stance, lifting his hands to the doorframe above his head. His big body fills the doorway. His muscles are stretched out, showing the definition and strength of him.

  I’m trapped in here, and if he wants to hurt me, he can.

  The only things I have to my advantage are the selection of knives behind me and the gun, but I don’t know if it’s loaded.

  And…I can’t believe I’m considering having to defend myself with a weapon against the man I’ve been sleeping with.

  Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, I open a door and find Dexter’s secret lair.

  Kas lets out another sigh. This one sounds tired.

  “Evan Foster slit his own throat. He bled to death in his bathtub. And Levi Betts was stabbed to death in an alleyway. Drug deal gone wrong apparently.” His steady black eyes stay carefully on mine.

  Swallowing nervously, I glance back at the knives on the table.

  Did one of those knives…

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  My pulse is pounding in my ears, my skin prickling with nerves and, most of all, disbelief. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

  I never really thought about what was behind that door. But, in my wildest imagination, I never thought it was this.