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Rory slammed the corridor light on and headed for the stairs. He got six feet along the narrow, gloomy space and stopped dead.
He’d left the bloody USB back there on the futon.
Cursing, he put one fist up against the wall. This is exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. Sky got him so he couldn’t think straight. He had a fuckin’ hard on and he was furious with himself.
Turning to face the wall, he put his forehead on the cold plaster. How in the hell had he forgotten it? Sky.
He’d constantly had to remind himself what he was there for. He’d been cruising along, wanting her, enjoying being with her, but when he stepped inside her building and she turned her face up to his, control vanished. He’d had to kiss her. She’d been soft and eager in his arms, and he wanted her there and the, up against the wall. The urge to take charge of her had him at full throttle.
Until an alarm bell went off in his head. It was like being at home, where they’d been big, big trouble for each other.
Drumming in his head, it was always there. His father’s anger, the hateful words. ‘You’re going to mess this up for us,’ the old man had said, his fist wrapped around Rory’s throat as he pinned him up against a wall. ‘We’ve got a good place here, a fresh start. We’ve been welcomed
into Shelly’s home. I’m not going to let you mess it up for us because you’ve got the hots for her daughter.’
Those angry words ran through Rory like tainted blood. The violent streak he witnessed in his father made him retreat to his computer and his motorcycle. Thankfully, Shelly’s new age hippie attitude calmed his dad a lot, but those angry warnings stayed with him nonetheless.
Pull back before it’s too late.
Glancing back at Sky’s door, he took a deep breath. Their parents had gone though, left all of them. It was just him and Sky here, with no one telling them what they could and couldn’t do.
He turned back to face the door. After he’d spent time with her in the box room she laughably called an apartment, it was hard to stand up and walk away. Especially once he’d opened up to her about his hacker past.
She had to ask about the money. It always made his teeth grate, because he only did it for the challenge At least he did to begin with. But it’s what people always wanted to know, not just Sky. She’d always had rebellion in her eyes—rebellion and shadows. He’d seen that look too many times before—seen it in his own reflection not so long ago. He was up to his neck trying to right past mistakes and get his own life on the right track. It meant he couldn’t afford to get mixed up with a crazy girl who thought playing with fire was a pastime.
There were so many reasons why he should avoid her.
He wanted her though, and as soon as her door clicked shut, he regretted leaving. And he knew he’d be regretting it later in the night, alone in his bed, thinking about her, thinking about what she’d feel like, under him, hip to hip, her mouth locked with his.
He glanced up and down the corridor.
The timed light went out.
Cursing, he punched the switch. The light flickered back on.
The muffled sounds of voices and music reached him, but no one was about. Pacing up and down, he faced up to the fact he had to go back. Couldn’t risk leaving the hacker kit with her a moment longer. He should have dumped it long ago, but there’d been a voice in his head that said he might need it. Out there in the real world Jackson was probably already making plans, staking out possible hiding places. He didn’t need either George or his housemates in danger. He stopped dead. That was Sky’s fault, telling him not to destroy it, and then he’d got so far into the idea of fucking her he’d forgotten to pick the bloody thing up.
Outside the door, he stared at the number on the door. 6A, painted on with purple paint, badly. Sky had done it, he just knew it.
It would be fatal to go back in there.
No longer have a choice. Got to go back for the stick.
If he didn’t God knows what she’d do with it—hide it somewhere he’d never find it just to irritate him, most likely. Her rebellious streak was trouble, always had been. Things she thought were amusing were often dangerous.
Of course if she hadn’t kept it in the first place, this would be over already. That was typical of her. He’d have met up with her anyway, and the gear was too dangerous to treat as a toy.
Staring at her door handle his thoughts gelled. The lock was outdated and pitifully easy to break. By rights he couldn’t leave her vulnerable. She’d shrugged off his comments about security though. Rory smiled. She’d only believe what he’d said about the lock if he proved it to her.
Fishing his wallet out of his pocket, he dug deep and pulled out the strip of Kevlar he kept stored at the bottom. So far, he’d only ever used it to get into abandoned properties, but it would do the trick here.
“Appalling lack of security,” he said quite loudly—by way of explanation to anyone who might happen on him—while he jimmied Sky’s Yale lock.
He was proving a point. And he only had another forty seconds or so to do it before the bloody light went out again.
It wasn’t about her, he assured himself. It was the USB, and the lack of security. But she was in his mind as he fiddled with the lock, repeatedly glancing along the corridor in case anyone approached. The last thing he needed was to be arrested for breaking and entering when he was just proving a point here.
“If you break in you can claim a reward.”
