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“How do you weigh the things you think are real? What tips the scale? Money?” He takes a step closer to me. “Power? Influence?” His eyes dip to my lips. “Desire? Whatever is real to you, does he have it?” He nods toward the Sandbar.
I swallow hard. “Tonight he did.” I hate that this is my honest answer. And I hate that I have to give it to him, with no explanation.
He nods. “I thought you were different. I was wrong.” He turns to leave, and I drop my bag of clothes on the ground.
“What’s real to you, Zaden? Do you think this is? A few days together and some hot conversations? Fuck, how well do you even know me? Did you ever stop to think that maybe I flirt with you because I thought you could handle it without falling for me? I don’t have the time or the patience for this shit.”
He stops, and turns back to me. His eyes lock onto mine with a dangerous intensity, like anger and frustration and need and desperation all rolled into one beautiful, fucked-up disaster. He strides toward me, crowding my space and blocking out the ocean around us. His hands slide around the back of my neck and into my hair, tipping my head back as his lips fall against mine.
We collide in a tangle of heat and broken breaths. I cling to him like a lifeline, fisting my hands in his shirt to pull him closer. His mouth angles across mine and I trace his bottom lip with my tongue, then teeth. He growls, his lips traveling hungrily down my neck, his teeth skimming the sensitive skin beneath my ear. I inhale a sharp breath ending in his name.
His mouth returns to mine, deep and desperate, sinking inuntil all I can feel is him. His warmth. The sweat on his skin. The rasp of the stubble on his face as he leans into me. His hands slide down my body, gripping my hips and pressing me back against the wooden railing.
Then he releases me, and takes a step back. I’m panting, my heart pounding, the ocean breeze flowing into the distance between us, cool against my heated skin.
“That’s real,” he breathes, his hands balling into fists at his sides before sliding into his pockets. “I know it. And you know it.”
Then he turns, and strides off down the catwalk. I watch him follow the path down the jetty to the marina, and try to catch my breath.
I curse and run a trembling hand through my hair. I want to tell him that there’s nothing between Evan and I. There never will be. I’m just using him for answers. But in the same sense, I’m using everyone.
Even Zaden.
I take a deep breath to steady myself, and open the gate, crossing the pool deck to the stairs. As I reach the motel room door, I glance back at the houseboat, and our eyes meet across the darkened marina. My heart starts to race again, and I step inside the room, leaning back against the cool metal door as it closes. I shut my eyes tight, reminding myself repeatedly that it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. That’s not why I’m here. I may have wanted a distraction, a connection to someone to save me from my grief, but what I found is far worse.
I want him. And I don’t know how to stop.
Chapter 13
Ivy
My head is pounding, and it’s not just the scotch. I sit up in bed, toss back a handful of Tylenol and relax against the headboard. A business card on the nightstand catches my eye, and I pick it up, running my finger over the simple raised lettering.
Detective Raymond Phillips.
I lift the receiver for the motel phone and dial his number, waiting. It goes to voicemail, and I hang up. I’ve been here for four days, and no one has tried to contact me. No updates on the search. No more questions. No word on when I can get my phone back. Nothing.
The sun creeps slowly up the horizon, peeking above the sea to bathe the inside of the motel room in orange. I flip on the television and wait for the local news, hoping to hear her name. After about fifteen minutes, a woman appears on the screen, standing on the beach not far from the Sandbar. Dive boats bob in the surf behind her, and she turns her body intothe wind as she talks so the breeze doesn’t push her dark hair into her face.
“It’s been nearly a week since the search for Paige Matthews began, with rescue crews working relentlessly toward recovery. We spoke with Officer Woodman of the PBPD Dive Team, who explained that dangerous currents and high winds have hindered visibility, and slowed progress. Although the search continues, optimism is turning to doubt.”
I swallow hard and flip the television back off. I don’t know what I hate more, the fact that I have to learn any new details about the case from the news, or that the terminology has changed fromrescuetorecovery.
I pick up the dry wipe marker and stand from the bed, walking over to the murder mirror. As I add information, my pyramid of names is quickly becoming a web, with names connected and crossed off. Detail bubbles added around the periphery. I’m only a few six-pane windows and a spool of colored string away from reachingA Beautiful Mindstatus, but it feels like progress.
I draw a line between Evan and Natalie. There’s something there. Something worth exploring. I feel her jealousy. Her possessiveness of Evan. And her utter distrust of me. She doesn’t want me working at the Aurora with her, and that makes me want it even more.
I stare at Nick and Mia’s names, wanting to cross them off, but I’m unsure yet. Several unknowns still float around Mia. The things she said about Paige’s secretive behavior make me wonder what else she knows, even if she doesn’t know she knows it.
I still don’t know much about grumpy Lloyd, Katrina,Mason or Rhonda. And the two I still haven’t met, Chris the fry guy who was engaged to Rose, and Jax the MIA bartender. Beyond the Sandbar, I draw a bubble for the PBPD… but I have no idea how to get my hands on their records, or how to verify who was on duty that night. They have the resources to spin the narrative in whatever direction they want, but why? Apart from covering up an accident, which ultimately claimed one of their own, I can’t find a motive… And it wouldn’t explain why Evan lied about Paige’s drinking. Or why he didn’t follow her to the Aurora. Or why he so easily dismisses their relationship.
My eyes fall on Zaden’s name, and I pause. I really don’t know what to do with that one. The whole situation is a mind fuck. The way he looks at me. The way I respond to it. The magnetic attraction that has me searching him out in a crowd. I can’t stop thinking about the way his mouth felt on mine. His hands hot against my skin. The intensity in his gaze as he pinned me to the catwalk railing and told me this was real.
Part of me knows he’s right. But the other part says he has feelings for Ivy, and not Skye.
When the rest of the world falls away, there is only the two of us. Paige and I. Getting her back is everything. And what I would give for it, is everything. I have to keep reminding myself of this. We were once forgotten and abandoned by the world, and despite whatever I may build to reach her again, it too will crumble. But not her.
Time is running out, and I only have a few days to figure this out. I have to get closer to Evan. He needs to take me more seriously to confide in me. I underline Evan’s name three times, like the power I give to this goal will help me achieve it. I will dowhatever it takes to crack him, even if that means hurting someone else.
