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Only one.Dee. O’Malley must have repeated what his source told him about my “mystery woman.”
A woman you couldn’t seem to keep your hands off of.
Intimate dances…passionate kiss.
And most importantly, she’s said not to be your unusual type.
Ah…that got a reaction. Protective. Proprietary. It’s written all over your face, Peters.
Malcolm would have immediately recognized my soft underbelly, ripe for him to slice wide open. But he hadn’t shared anything about Dee’s identity with O’Malley. Otherwise, the sleazy mother fucker would have been all over it. Somehow, Malcolm had gotten O’Malley to back off. That’s the only logical explanation for why O’Malley hasn’t blogged about me or tried to reach me since.
And yet, I take no comfort in the possibility that Malcolm may have taken care of my O’Malley problem. Not when he must have done so for his own nefarious purposes.
When I think of Malcolm plotting and planning, finding out where Dee lives, sending a note to her house, feet away from where she slept, I want to put my hand through his fucking chest.
Shoving out of the chair, I stalk to the door without answering the question Stiles posed. Telling him about my screwed-up relationship with Malcolm won’t make a difference. “Take care of Dee. Do not let her out of your sight. She’s going to a club with her friends. Atomic Freeze. Friday night.” The same night I’m meeting Malcolm. “Send Bernard to drive them. And I want you inside the club with her. Stick to Dee like glue. And if anyone even tries so much as to get near her—”
“No one will…you have my word on that. But Mr. Peters, the more I know—”
“You know all you need to. Just keep Dee safe.”
Outside, the east horizon has turned a gloomy shade of gray. I walk to the lot, nearly empty at this hour, pulling in breaths of the cool evening air, and face the gutting realization that I’m sinking deep in quicksand with no clear way out of this mess.
I yank open the car door just as my phone vibrates. I check the screen. It’s Dee. I hit the Decline button. Can’t talk to her now. Can’t go home to her either. I put my phone away and drive—hoping the faster I go, the farther away I’ll get from my problems. I leave the city…find a lone stretch of country road and open the throttle. The Porsche flies.
I could justify my lies and omissions in the beginning.It was too soon. I didn’t want to scare her away.That no longer works. I’ve since come to recognize an inner fibrous strength that even Dee doesn’t give herself nearly enough credit for having. I don’t harbor any reservations that she won’t stick this out with me. I can’t stand the thought that she would. How jacked up is that?
After driving an hour through the back roads with my phone buzzing and my guilt riding shotgun, I finally stop at a dive. The type of watering hole that’s faceless—where several of the letters in the flashing sign are burned out, the drinks are strong, and getting drunk is a solitary pursuit. I amble in, tugging my cap down low. The stale stench of cigarettes and sweaty bodies hovers in the grimy air and the dim lighting gives me cover. Not that anyone here would recognize me or even care if they did.
Two men sit at the bar, one slumped over. I choose the stool located at the other end. A woman with big hair and a bored expression takes my order.
“Rum, ice, splash of Coke.”
Just one glass, maybe two, I tell myself. Not enough to get smashed, just enough to dull the edge, to blur the anger, to shade the guilt.
She slides the glass in front of me. I crave it badly, but I’d be a fool if I weren’t scared to death of what it would do to me. Twelve years was a long time to be sober. Yet not long enough to forget what it had been like when I wasn’t.
My hand closes around the glass. I stare at it so long, the bartender asks, “You gonna drink that, honey, or just look at it all night?”
I’m still contemplating that perilous decision when my phone vibrates again. Unwrapping my fingers around the glass, I fish it from my pocket and see half a dozen missed calls from Dee and a text:Where are you? Please let me know you’re ok.
ChapterTen
Dee
I watch Mick through thefront window. I watch and worry. My relief upon first hearing his car pull into the garage port has slowly seeped out of me like tiny grains through an hourglass.
He hadn’t contacted me all day. It’s not that I expect Mick to check in. We both have busy careers, and I respect the need for separate interests and to spend time apart. But this is the first time since we’ve been together that he hadn’t informed me that he’d be late or had other plans. So, when 9:00 p.m. rolled around and I still hadn’t heard from him, my earlier concerns were renewed.
I sensed something was off this morning. Not at first. Mick had awakened at the crack of dawn, ready to start the day, beginning with me. He’d gripped my hips, thrusting beneath me, whispering raunchy, dirty words as I rode his gorgeous body to exhaustion.
My exhaustion, that is. Afterward, while I dozed, curled up like a contented cat, Mick in all his athletic glory still had the energy to go out for a jog, then fix the fence. Which come to think of it, is one of his tells. Pacing, needing to move, nose to the grindstone; doing, fixing, that’s how Mick copes when he’s troubled.
I hadn’t noticed the signs right away—diverted by the sight of those well-trained muscles flexing as I watched him swing the hammer, then hisrousing kiss that wiped my thoughts clean. It wasn’t until the fire banked between us that I became aware of the change in him; an undercurrent of tension that hadn’t been there before.
I asked him several times before I left for the office if he was okay, and each time, he offered assurances that he was. I wanted to believe him—ached to—because the alternative meant he was shutting me out. Again.
As the hours ticked away this evening without a call or a text, without him answering my messages, I knew something was seriously wrong. Felt it in the pit of my stomach. I busied myself with an online Pilates class, showered, tried to do some work, and avoided the kitchen. I was this close to contacting Victor when Mick finally arrived.
