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Then it’s me who bursts. I detonate, unravel, shatter. Crying out, I shudder as every cell ruptures, unable to contain the pleasure that’s exploding. Just as I worry I’m going to fall apart, everything comes back together, contracting around the place we connect, around one word that is my new center.
Chase.
As I return from morphing into a supernova, little spots appear in my vision for a moment, and I have to blink to clear it. When I do, Chase is still below me, gripping the sides of my hips and slightly throbbing inside. I undo the mask, gazing at him with slow, lethargic blinks.
“That was amazing,” Chase manages, still gasping for air.
My satisfied smile spreads wide as fall into his arms and he wraps me in his warmth. I go to say something, but I quickly notice that Chase’s struggling to keep his eyes open. He has it hard as well, constantly worrying just like I am.
I let him sleep, snuggling my head on his chest. Chase’s arm around me acts like a barrier against any worry. For a little while, I’m content, the faint buzz of happiness humming through my body.
It’s all shattered when my phone buzzes on the bedside table. Moving carefully so I don’t wake Chase, I pick it up, registering it’s an unknown number.
My heart stutters.
My skin goes cold.
I open the message, already knowing who it’s from.
Did we give you a good welcome?
It’s like the kidnappers are mocking me, yet that single line clearly has one aim. To threaten. The very sentence makes me look back to the box in the room, and I nearly vomit. I wonder if they’re enjoying this, if all the thugs huddle up and decide on what message to send while they make Peter their plaything.
I look back. Chase is still asleep, but his arm still reflexively tightens on my waist, as if trying to pull me back. With newfound courage, I type back a message.
I’ll get you your money soon.
For the first time, I don’t mind the idea of the meeting. Whatever Chase is thinking, it needs to work.
The alternative is something that neither of us wants.
Something I’m willing to do if that’s what it takes.
…
I can clearly see that Chase is tense as we make our way to the bar. His gaze is constantly sweeping, his arm around my waist like steel. It means my own nerves are strung even tighter. It has me jumping when his phone rings, the text from Night Fang blazing in my mind.
We stop not far from the bar as he glances at the screen, then frowns. “Can you give me a sec?”
“Sure.” I resist the urge to cross my arms over my middle. “Anything important?”
“The chief,” he answers. “She had to get something for me, so it’s probably her calling back.”
I nod, wishing I wasn’t so relieved. Considering it’s the police chief, it’s probably a lot more serious than just a pen he forgot.
I plant a kiss on his cheek, and his expression grows a shade lighter. “Be careful.”
“Like anyone has the balls to mess with me,” Chase says, teasing. He’s obviously playing at being arrogant, telling me not to worry.
He moves into an adjacent alley and I wander away, wanting to give him privacy. Crossing the street, I make my way to the bar. I don’t intend on going in alone, but there are some barstools scattered around tall tables. I’ll sit down and—
The door opens and to my surprise, someone I recognize steps out.
“Holly?” I say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyebrows hike up, but she quickly yanks them back down as she grins. “I could ask you the same question.” She rushes over to me and wraps me in a big, warm hug. For some reason, she feels light and weary. “Anything going on in your world?”
I know very well what she’s hinting at. “Were you the one who sent him my way?”
