Page 45 of Hooked on Trouble

I shake my head, nearly giving myself whiplash. “No. Discussion done. I won’t do it. Won’t be able to live with it. Josh will know it’s bullshit. He’ll know I broke the law to help him. That’s not okay. Call. It. Off.”

I’m a second from a goddamn heart attack.

Slumping, Alessi backtracks on the phone then jams it into his pocket and passes his beer from hand to hand. The glass bottom drags along the table. “If you change your mind, let me know. Josh may have fucked up, but he’s a good kid. Doesn’t deserve to go to jail.”

He’s got that right, but it’s no excuse. “I won’t be changing my mind. And if you ever suggest something like this again, for any reason, I’ll be asking for a new partner.”

When shit went down with my father and Josh, Alessi never questioned me, never looked at me funny like the guys at the station, wondering if I was dirty, too. I’ve been to his huge family barbecues, and he sat with me in the hospital when Nikki overdosed. He’s even helped make sure she attends her meetings, but backing me into a corner with a decision like this is bullshit.

We have a stare-off, then he nods. “Got it.”

I swish a sip of beer around my mouth, the stale brew as warm as always. Part of me wants to leave him sitting here, get out and get some air. Let my anger at his request cool. Quell the fury aimed at myself for giving in. I said yes. I gave him the okay. Freaking out afterward doesn’t change my primal instinct. But standing up and moving feels like effort.

He kicks my foot. “That name you asked me for, what was that about?”

“I’m helping Raven find her sister.”

He scratches his neck and frowns.

“What?” The word comes out as a bark.

“Might be nothing, but the guy I looked up for you has a history. I checked into it a bit, in case you needed more info. Minor drug charges.”

The unease Clara left me with at Neverland Farms returns. “Rose might not even be staying there. It’s just a lead.”

He doesn’t push, and a strained silence resumes. When he’s drained the last of his beer, he leaves me with a solemn nod. Working together with tension between us is bad business; in our uniform blues he’s as important as my vest. My frustration with him will dissipate. In time. For now I need to stop thinking about the things I can’t control and focus on the things I can.

Seeing Raven again tops that list.

I flip over my phone, hoping for a reply from her. I’m not disappointed.

Is it normal that I miss you already?

Fuck, did I need to hear that. Don’t know. But I feel the same.

I’m walking around in a fog.

Dropping you off killed me.

Sleepover tomorrow?

Last night, in the motel, with our bodies pressed together, her steady breaths calmed my anxiety. Hopefully she can perform her magic again, make me forget what just went down, because all I feel right now is guilt blooming in my chest, thick and heavy. I’m hungry to be inside her, moving with her, making her moan. But it’s more than wanting to blow her mind and quiet mine. I still hate how I reacted to her police record. She seems to have forgiven me, but an urge to prove myself swells. Prove I trust her one hundred percent.

I have a dinner tomorrow, I write. But I’d love you to come. Sleepover after.

Count me in. Not sure what time my photo shoot will end. Text me the address, and I’ll meet you there.

My thumbs hover over my phone. Instead of telling Raven she’s coming to my mother’s house, I type out the address and hit Send. This could be a huge mistake. Raven will be pissed when she realizes where she’s going. She might even knee me in the balls, send me sprawling like Joe in the slums. But something tells me I’m on a timeline with her. If things don’t work out with her sister, she could shut down. My life could become a shit storm at any moment.

Meeting my family doesn’t fit with her take-it-slow plan, but she needs to know, before we find her sister, that I’m serious about us. Better to risk the nut shot tomorrow than leave things to chance.

Fourteen

Raven

I hop off the bus and walk until I’m at a small white house on a residential street. The number matches the one Nico texted, but there’s no music thumping through the walls, no cars lined down the street. He didn’t give any details about this mysterious dinner, and I didn’t ask. All I cared about was seeing him again. In the twenty-four hours since he dropped me off, my stress levels have spiked again. Getting closer to finding Rose means I’m closer to everything I want, and everything that terrifies me.

Nico is the cure I crave.