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“Fuck,” I grumble as I make my way back to the living room. “And to think my night was almost over.”
“Oh my God.”
My eyes snap up to find Anna standing in the doorway with her hands cupped over her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes are glued to a painting on the floor. It’s destroyed, but it couldn’t have been more expensive than all the other things combined, but it seems to be her sole focus.
“Was it a Monet or something?”
“Zeni painted that for me.”
On second look, I can tell it’s one of those cheap paint by numbers canvases, but after hearing her, it hits me in the gut like an anvil. Zeni was her cousin, only two years younger than us who killed herself our senior year in high school. They found no note, no explanation or reason why the pretty girl took her own life, and the pain it caused Anna back then was astronomical. It was the only time the girl broke her tougher than nails façade in public. It was the only time I wrapped my arms around her, and she let me as she cried into my shirt. It didn’t last long before Dani pulled her away.
I don’t reach for her now. I don’t think she’d appreciate me touching her, but the longer she stands there staring down at the ruined painting the easier it is to see that she’s still haunted by her cousin’s death even after all this time.
“I’m sure it can be fixed,” I say, almost placing my hand on her back, only to pull it away at the last second.
We both know it will be impossible to repair, but she nods anyway.
“We need to get out of here. The police didn’t do this.”
As if in a trance, Anna follows me out of the apartment. I have my phone out, texting Flynn to come check out both apartments before the elevator opens up in front of us.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks when we climb back inside my truck.
“To a hotel.”
“Can I stay with you?”
Abso-fucking-lutely not. “No.”
“I can’t stay alone.” Her tears haven’t stopped since she stepped inside of her apartment, but it’ll take much more than some crying to get me to let this chick invade my private space. No one, and I mean no one is allowed in my apartment or back on the ranch.
“You’ll be fine,” I assure her. “I’ll book you under a different name. I don’t know who trashed your place, but until we get more info, you can’t use any of your credit cards in case they’re tracking you.”
“They’re all back at the apartment anyway,” she manages through her crying.
I make a mental note to have Wren track Anna’s shit too. I wouldn’t put it past someone petty enough to do that to her belongings to use her credit cards.
“This has to be related to what happened in Dani’s apartment.”
“Impossible.” I almost smile at the fire in her voice. Her anger I understand and can deal with. Crying women have always made my skin crawl.
“And why is that?”
“I don’t have any enemies.” I cock an eyebrow at her because we both know she and I aren’t friends, but she just scoffs. “Everyone loves me.”
I nearly laugh at those words but decide I’m just glad that the tears seem to have stopped for now.
“You can’t be serious.” Her eyes are wide as she peers at the hotel sign.
“They have a complimentary breakfast.”
“I don’t eat carbs and grease any time of the day.”
“Your snobbery is showing.”
“I’m not staying here,” she growls, and right then I know if I go in and book a room it’ll only be a waste of my damn time.
“I’m not paying for you to stay in some five-fucking-star hotel. I can take you to your parents.”
“I don’t want them knowing anything about this. I want to go to sleep. I’m exhausted, and my dad will grill me for hours.”
“Not my problem.” I put the truck in drive and take off toward her parents’ neighborhood.
“Take me to the Four Seasons.”
“I’m not—”
“Fucking bill me for it,” she hisses.
“No one would expect you to be at that other hotel,” I explain.
“Because they know I’ll already be dead if I’m forced to stay there.”
I grip the steering wheel until my fucking hands ache. There isn’t one single thing about this hoity-toity woman that I missed.Chapter 8Anna
After demanding a suite with a view, I practically throw myself on the sofa in the lobby and wait for him to finish booking the room. With the way my luck’s going tonight, he’ll be back in minutes letting me know that his credit card was declined. The lady working the front desk keeps a pleasant smile on her face even as he clenches his jaw so tight, I’m fearful he’ll crack his teeth.
