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“What? No. Why are you hurting me?” I let go of her because there’s no fucking way I want to hurt her, even though I’ve never felt so fucking betrayed.
“You called him. You fucking told him where we were. You fucking played me.”
“It’s not what you think.” I grab her again, this time by the biceps to stop her from running away, and then she presses her hands to my arms, rubbing them, gently like she’s calming a wild animal.
“Then what is it?”
“Look. I heard you wanted to kill him. I knew he’d say some crazy shit when we got back, maybe make something up about you being involved in my landlord’s death. He’s a reporter, after all, and they were working together.”
“You knew about it.”
“I puzzled it out on the drive to the cabin. It’s why I had to get away. I got that damn internship way too easily, and now it makes so much sense.”
She’s too hard on herself. January’s smart and intuitive, deserving of being a reporter. I released my hold on her and sit up, pulling her onto my lap.
“Anyway, I called him to say that you were my boyfriend and were pissed off that I didn’t tell you about the trip since you were on a covert ops mission in the military.”
I chuckled. “What’s so funny?” she asks.
“You weren’t completely lying.”
“You’d just gotten back and flew in to find me. I told him that I knew he was going to seduce me and I wasn’t going to let it happen because I didn’t cheat.”
“So he doesn’t think you know anything about your landlord and him?”
“No. I just wanted to make it look like we had a romantic interlude at the hotel here. We didn’t go anywhere. That I just wanted to forget about this trip, and we can start over when we get back.”
“What did he say?”
“He agreed, as long as you don’t beat him up.”
I look at her for any markings, but I didn’t even leave a red spot on her skin. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t hurt me. I promise.”
“But why did you send him an image of your location?”
“I only sent him a picture of a different hotel in the area. It’s not the one we’re at. It’s the one down the road, but it looks like ours.” She shows me, and it’s not the exact same one. Fuck, now I feel like a bigger asshole.
“Calm down, you big brute. I told you I was fine.”
“Are you ready, then?”
“Do we have to leave just yet?” she asks.
“I would like to get a start because the weather isn’t looking good. I think we’re going to have to spend another night somewhere else.”
She smiles, and I lead her out to the truck. Then, I see the people who were in the waiting vehicle, and it’s an older couple. I was being paranoid. Just years of experience playing with my head.
We drive all the way back to Illinois, stopping halfway to stay at a nice bed and breakfast as another summer storm rolls through. This one is worse than the day before so it’s a long night, but this time we make sure to keep ourselves well occupied. January comes louder and harder than the storm while I flood her more than the Mississippi banks.
Finally, we arrived at her apartment building. It’s around three in the morning after a long evening of driving. It’s good because no one will see us, and we’ll be in and out before someone comes looking—like the police.
Yesterday the detective on Johnson’s case called, but since she’d been sleeping and had called about the foul odor before she left, they had no other questions for her. They were well aware whoever did this wasn’t some small female. Besides, our cleanup crew left just enough evidence to implicate Coleman.
They’ll never find him, though.
His body has long since been disposed of, and it looks like he’ll be considered a fugitive. His accounts have been emptied and his IDs have been tossed in a shredder in his home office, and his life was quickly packed up, making it clear he fled. Even his vehicle was seen leaving the U.S. into Mexico where it’s already been dismantled and parts redistributed, VIN numbers removed and replaced.
Everything is dark in her building, and the street seems deadly silent like it should at this hour. It’s a great sign, but I get an uncomfortable feeling, as if there’s something lurking in the shadows. If anything, we’re here to pick up clothes. After all, she does live here. I can’t shake the feeling.
Before we cross to the front door, I pull her into my arms and kiss her roughly. “What was that for?”
“Just a reminder that I’m not letting you.”
“Oh, okay. I’m not going to run yet anyway. It’s too early. The trains don’t run twenty-four hours a day,” she teases. I swat her ass and then take her hand and lead her up the stairs to the second floor, keeping her body firmly against the wall to protect her.
