Seek: Project Xol

by Amabel Daniels

  “Luke Dixon.” I held out my hand.

  She took it. “Cassidy Shaw. Maybe we shouldn’t wait out here like sitting ducks though?”

  Did she not have faith in what Zero said? We were untraceable now.

  “I’ll open the garage door. Better to hide the car in there.” I pulled at the door handle and welcomed the crisp, cool air from outside.

  “But what if they already know we’re here? I was still on the phone with Zero when we first pulled up here. On my last phone.”

  And if they’d already connected her from Rosa’s apartment to send a guy to her place, they were probably one step ahead and able to trace her smartphone we’d smashed behind the drugstore’s parking lot. She had a point.

  I gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “I’m trying to be optimistic.”

  I exited and walked up to the closed garage. It was an older house and didn’t have an automatic mechanism. A simple reach down, a couple of tugs against the buildup of rust and grit at the hinge, and up it went.

  Once she drove forward and parked the car, I led the way inside. As dark as it was, there was still some light from the moon. Without curtains, anyone could see in. Nothing to see in there, anyway. It was bare. One couch and one floor lamp missing a light bulb remained. Appliances were unplugged and dust flew as we stepped through the vacant residence. In the kitchen, I turned on the faucet and was pleased the water was still hooked up. Not only that, but the water heater must have been plugged in still.

  Another shower was next on the list. I glanced at Cassidy as she poked her head in to view the emptied refrigerator. If she looked like a bedraggled mess from running in the rain earlier, I wasn’t in much better shape. She straightened and faced me with a question in her eyes and I swiped at the grime on her chin, likely from the fire escape.

  “May as well clean up. Again.”

  “I think I’ve got an old towel in my trunk,” she said, and I went with her to get it. She hadn’t voiced her fear of being alone again, but it was a given.

  In the living room, she shivered and rubbed at her arms. Gas must have been disconnected, because it was chilly in here. Now that the humidity from the rainstorm had passed, a late-spring drop in temps had our hideout on the frigid side. “Ladies first again?”

  I nodded.

  As she went to shower, I plopped to the couch and closed my eyes. Time had blurred so fast since I’d trudged up the stairs at home earlier, planning an early night of a deep sleep.

  Home.

  I had none. If the flames from Rosa’s unit hadn’t gotten to mine, it would be a miracle. Those weren’t abundant in my life. Instead of a sense of loss gripping me, I was simply tired. Exhausted. I didn’t have enough fuel to feel about the safe haven of my apartment being destroyed.

  One thing at a time.

  Sighing, I rubbed at my face. No whining. No wallowing.

  I opened my new phone and inputted my brother Jonah’s number, as well as Dale’s. Since the entrepreneur billionaire had sprung me—legally—from prison, I hadn’t had much direct contact with him. He spoke regularly with Jonah, as they were more friends than mentor-alcoholic acquaintances now. Since I was Jonah’s right-hand man for the flipping biz, Dale sometimes directly forwarded me business prospects, like this place that I was bunkering in for the night. We were in touch enough for me to remember his number.

  I wouldn’t contact either man though, too on edge about Zero’s Big Brother watching abilities and tracing calls. I’d never willingly put my brother or Dale in harm’s way. I felt better knowing I still could contact my only sibling if I had to.

  As close as we were, Jonah wouldn’t be mystified by my absence. He wasn’t expecting me back at his gym until the middle of next week. And he’d wanted to wait a couple of weeks before starting the next properties to flip—needing a break to catch up with servicing tools and equipment in his garage. I hoped I’d have more answers about this craziness known as Cassidy by then.

  She exited the bathroom and trembled again. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable in the house without heat, but seeing as she was leaving a hot shower, she was probably feeling frozen. “All yours.”

  I stood and she waved a hand back at the bathroom. Even if she didn’t vocalize her fear about being alone in here, I could tell she was anxious.

  “Come on,” I said and headed toward the shower.

  “I’m…I’m fine. No one’s here. They didn’t tail us out here.”

  “Keep me company anyway. I’ve got a few questions.”

  She followed and propped her back to the wall of the hallway by the bathroom. “Only a few?”

  I almost smiled and entered the room. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her for help in removing my shirt, but the one I’d put on was a little looser and I managed. Once I was in under the water, I groaned. “Coast is clear.”

  She came inside and sat on the closed toilet lid again. Déjà vu. Instead of letting me speak first, she asked, “Why would a police officer have a tranq gun?”

  Face up under the punishing stream from the showerhead, I paused. Tranq gun? “Huh?” I mumbled through the water.

  She explained what she saw when I was getting up and I had no clues for her. News to me. I began to mention the possibility of them wanting to sedate her, and she finished to say the thought had already crossed her mind. Crossed her mind and probably freaked her out even more.

  “Any idea about how this ties into Rosa?” I asked as I rubbed my hands over my skin, no soap to aid with making me feel clean. More than anything, the heat helped to soothe me.

  “No. You?”

  She was asking me? Spoke volumes about how close the women could be. “Wouldn’t you know more about her than me? We lived next to each other, but she was hardly ever there.”

  “She travels a lot. She always has. I’ve never really stayed with her much.”

  “Not even as a kid?” Through the hazy shower door, I watched as she shook her head, her gaze tired and downcast.

  “No. When I was really little, daycares. Babysitters. Then boarding schools from Kindergarten and up.”

  Why would someone adopt a young kid and then abandon them? I stared at the chipped tile ahead of me, zoning out as she continued.

  “I respect her for her decisions. I mean, she’s a genius in her field. And researching for a cure to a debilitating illness is honorable.”

  But you kinda wish she’d been an actual mom, maybe?

  “I learned early on that her life is a private matter, and whenever I’d spend time with her, the majority of her focus was always on her studies. I don’t think she ever stops thinking about it.”

  Devoted. Maybe also obsessive?

  “I’ve always been the outsider looking in, but what I do know and follow from her work, there’s nothing criminal about it. She’s made many breakthroughs in the genetic manipulation in test objects that help to pinpoint key turning points in late-onset dementia.”

  I reared back and arched my brows at her. That was a mouthful. A detailed one.

  She rolled her eyes and lifted one corner of her lips. As she brushed her damp hair from her face, she shrugged. “Okay. I’ve paid attention to what she studies. Like I said, I’m proud of her. But it’s legit and science-y. Not illegal and dangerous.”

  Unless there was something more to Rosa’s life than just her research. “What’s with this key she wanted you to get?”

  Before she could reply, her new phone chimed. She pulled it out and laughed once. “Speak of the devil. Text from Zero.”

  I let her read and tap at the screen for a moment. “Well?” Fine. I was impatient. Always had been and probably always will.

  “He says it’s a key to a safety deposit box at the head Griffin Bank, which is located on Fifth Avenue.”

  I gaped and blinked away water. “As in New York Fifth Avenue?”

  “That’d match the address.”

  I looked back at her as she rubbed at the injuries on her neck. “Huh. He says it�
�s to a joint account opened by Scott Farger and Rosa is listed as someone to access. I was added to the account years ago.”

  “He’s hacking into bank accounts?”

  “I don’t even want to know. All I know is I can take his word.”

  Damn. Hacking into banks? That took balls. “Anything else?”

  “No. He said that was the easiest to look up. He’ll tell us more later.”

  I absorbed the news and said, “So, New York?”

  She stood and paced in the three feet of the bathroom. “I don’t know what she’d have there. She’s never lived there. She’s from Phoenix. I’m not sure she’s ever worked in New York.”

  “What about the name?”

  “Scott—” She checked the screen again. “Scott Farger? Never heard of him.”

  Neither had I. Which meant nothing. I hadn’t heard of Cassidy Shaw before tonight either. It drove in the fact how we were still very much strangers.

  “I’m going to get out.”

  “Right. Right. Sorry.” She hurried her steps out.

  I had to do something about her apologizing all the time. It’d get old fast, and she had no need to be so passive. Polite was one thing, setting up the game for being a pushover was another.

  Like I have any say in how she lives her life. I snorted to myself as I stepped out and dried. I put my boxers and jeans back on, as well as my socks and shoes. No telling if we’d need to run at a moment’s notice. I’d need to tell her to keep hers on, too. I left my shirt off and brought the shared towel with me.

  Cassidy paced in the living room, tapping a half-empty water bottle at her thigh. She stopped short when I entered, and I was too much of an ass to like the way she seemed stuck on my bare chest. Once her cheeks flamed and she fidgeted, I smirked.

  See something you like? I turned. Remember this side?

  She gasped and I faced her again. “Can you help me with this?”

  Nodding, she came closer. “I’m so—”

  I gently gripped her chin. “Stop. I don’t want to hear you say you’re sorry one more time.” I let go and shrugged my other shoulder. “Just a battle wound.”

  She raised her brows and laughed once. “Sure.”

  “But can you help put this on?” Icy Hot was a cheap and inadequate solution, but it’d be better than nothing.

  “Yeah. Sit down.”

  I perched on the edge of the couch as she kneeled behind me and to my side. The pungent stink of the ointment nearly brought tears to my eyes when she opened the tube. Resting my elbows on my knees, I hunched over and waited. She pressed her fingertips to the top of the injured area and I sucked in my breath.

  “Sor—”

  I turned sharply again and turned toward her.

  “Not sorry,” she squeaked.

  Faced forward once more, I fought the urge to flinch or react as she smeared the stuff on my skin.

  She gently said, “I just don’t like causing anyone pain.”

  “Likewise. But I know you did that out of necessity and with the best judgment possible at the time. Not to maim me.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, I sat as still as I could while she rubbed the cream onto my shoulder. Pain waned to mild irritation, and as she kneaded harder, it became something of a gingerly administered massage. I’d relaxed so much that my elbows lifted off my knees and I arched back toward her, wanting more of her hands on me.

  A woman’s touch. I hadn’t felt it since before I went to prison. Hadn’t desired it after, either. I was too messed up to be worthy of a relationship, and being thrust into Cassidy’s care, goddamn did it screw with me. It was way too easy to lower my guard and let her slip under my skin.

  When she lifted her hands from me, I felt the tips of her long hair brushing my bare back. Goosebumps spread and she craned around me. “Any better?”

  I moaned contentedly.

  “You seem…cold. Maybe you should get your shirt on?”

  No, that was all her. Her touch. God, I had to get a grip on myself. She was just doing as I’d asked. Helping me with a wound. Not loving me up. I wasn’t even sure I’d know what love would resemble if it smacked me in the face.

  “Yeah.” I got up and went to the pile of meager belongings we’d brought out of her car. I was too jellied and mellow to want to wrestle with my t-shirt, so I zipped up the hoodie I’d grabbed.

  She went to the bathroom and I heard the water running. I got a tepid bottle of water from the counter and sat on the couch.

  The couch. The single piece of furniture in the entire house.

  I was going from limited human interaction and zero proximity with women to sharing a damn sofa with one. Talk about whiplash.

  When she came back out, she glanced at me without meeting my gaze and sat at the furthest end. Then she got up and went to her tote bag. “I’m going to shove the rest of my stuff in here. For ease of access.”

  Smart. “If there’s room, put everything in it, please.”

  She nodded.

  “Except the butterfly bandages. Can you put one on the cut here?” I pointed to the gash under my eye. There were no mirrors to do it myself. She came back with the box of adhesives and an envelope.

  She kneeled in front of me and secured the fabric to my skin. When she spread her fingers over my cheek, I glanced up at her. As though my gaze scalded her, she dropped her hand and pointed to the paper she’d given me.

  “That’s what Rosa sent me.”

  It took ten seconds to read it, another twenty to reabsorb it. Tell no one. And here she was sharing it with me. Her trust wasn’t something I took lightly, and I was honored she was open about it. The more we—I—knew, the better. “Thanks for letting me see.”

  She returned the Band-Aids and letter to the tote bag and then approached the couch again. Sitting, she said, “You—”

  “I’ll—”

  I rubbed at my mouth after we spoke over each other and tried again. “I’ll keep first watch. Go ahead and get some rest.”

  “But then you’ll be tired.”

  “I don’t know when I’m not.”

  “If you’re tired, you won’t be able to recover. You need rest, too.”

  Truth of the matter was, as beat as I was, physically and mentally, I doubted I could stay up. Already the crash of emotions and anxiety pulled me to a drowsy peace. By the wide yawn she hid behind her hand, she was feeling the impact of the night as well.

  “We’ll compromise,” I said.

  And by meeting in the middle, we ended up doing exactly that. First, we sat in the dark and stared at the nothingness before us. She slunk lower to the cushions, crossing her arms over her chest and huddling into her warmth. I was next, slouching to my left side and slapping my legs on the seating. Her soft breaths hinted at her slumber, and when she dropped sideways to the cushion, she fell into the gap of space between me and the back of the sofa.

  With half-open eyes, I was too tired to care that we were now lying on the couch together, side to side, her hair inches from my chin, her cheek smashed against my chest.

  After a few more deep breaths of her sweet, citrusy scent, I allowed myself to obey the need for sleep.

  ****

  I woke with a jolt of fear. Warmth surrounded me, a foreign alarm for someone unused to comforts. Something prickly jabbed at my conscience. Without moving, I took inventory of my body, registering the basics. All right, shoulder still on fire. Aches and pains minimized. As for where…

  Where was I?

  What had startled me awake?

  I blinked my eyes open and held back a gasp at Cassidy’s face so close to mine. No, close was too large of a gap. She was on me, against me, under me. Everywhere I could see and feel. A groan built in my throat as my morning wood flagged its presence against the apex of her thighs.

  So much for meeting in the middle. I couldn’t tell where she began and I ended, it was like we were one. She still slept, oblivious to my too-awake state. On her side, she was squashed against
the back of the couch and covered by me. My leg was wedged between hers, and her ankle hooked her calf securely on top of mine. Like two threads, we were woven together in a braid of limbs and warm skin.

  Jesus.

  Was this what some lucky assholes had to look forward to when they found a decent woman? Sleeping with Cassidy rivaled every notion I’d ever had of the concept of bliss.

  She sighed and nestled closer to me, rubbing her cheek along my arm that she’d taken over as a pillow. My other arm, I realized, and focused on not moving it, was strapped over her, hugging me to her like I’d found a new favorite pillow.

  Je-sus Christ.

  I swallowed, afraid to wake her. I didn’t want to freak her out at our…our…hell, we were cuddling. If one of us were naked, we’d be—

  Shit. That was not the right train of thought. My dick ached in my jeans and I clenched my teeth to not move a single muscle.

  I lay there frozen with her until I heard it again. The faint thumps of noise that must have woken me to begin with. I’d always been a light sleeper, much to my younger brother’s dismay.

  Footsteps. Careful, deliberate placement of feet. Like someone who wouldn’t want to be caught trespassing.

  Fucking hell. One night was all we’d get of anything like a step ahead.

  I turned my head ever so slightly, eyeing the window above the kitchen across the space. Windowless walls sheltered us, and I was thankful for the secrecy.

  “Cassidy.” I breathed her name, not wanting to risk even a whisper.

  In reply, she snuggled even closer, tucking her face next to mine. Maybe the start of my beard would rouse her, the friction of my stubble against such soft, smooth, creamy perfection? I jerked my chin a little to test the possibility.

  She breathed a naughty sound and spread her palm up my chest to rest around my neck.

  God. Dammit. I squinted my eyes shut as I heard more footsteps. On the cement. Were they looking in the front-door window? Ignoring the heat from Cassidy, I tried to place the sounds.

  “Cassidy.” I spoke it this time, as quietly as I could.

  She turned her lips toward mine and exhaled softly. Her leg slid up mine, anchoring me to her.