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“As sure as I am that the guards are really looking at us and, unless you and I start making out or doing other things that I am not comfortable doing, they’re going to get suspicious, because we’ve been lurking here in the semi-shadows for a long time. Go see Emily, go fuck her brains out, and remember me as your best man when it’s time for a wedding.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Don’t hang around any longer unless you’re ready for me to stick my tongue down your throat, Hunter. I’m a top, that’s for sure, and I sure as fuck don’t play around. Go.”
Without another word, I go.
I drive through the dark, empty streets, my mind racing faster than the bike. The decrepit buildings of the ghost town fade away, replaced by the familiar landscape of the city. As I approach Emily's apartment, my heart pounds. What am I doing? This isn't like me. I'm not the guy who shows up unannounced, desperate for a woman's attention. But Emily isn't just any woman.
I stop the bike and sit there for a moment, gripping the handlebars. My phone buzzes. It's her. "Paper's kicking my ass. I’m going to be at this for a long time. Sorry, can’t meet tonight.”
I look up to the window and see lights out in her living room. Frowning, I get off the bike and walk to the building’s front door and hit the button on her buzzer. It buzzes. Buzzes. Buzzes.
No answer.
I stand there, finger hovering over the buzzer, uncertainty gnawing at my gut. Something's not right. Emily's always been straight with me, even when it hurts. Why lie about working on a paper?
I circle around to the back of the building, muscle memory from countless ops guiding my movements. The fire escape creaks under my weight as I climb, but I barely notice, focused on the dark window above.
Her apartment's on the third floor. I reach it in seconds, peering through the glass. The place is empty, no sign of Emily or her laptop. No half-empty coffee mugs or scattered papers that would indicate an all-night study session.
My heart rate kicks up a notch. I test the window, finding it locked. Without hesitation, I pull out my lockpick set and make quick work of it. The window slides open silently, and I slip inside.
The apartment is still, shadows stretching across familiar furniture. I see her laptop on the coffee table, the screen dark. There are no coffee cups, notebooks, or papers beside it. No sign of Emily. She hasn’t been here in hours.
“Emily?" I call out. No response.
I reach her bedroom and push the door open slowly. The bed is made, in the neat, almost-military perfect way that I’d expect from her. I step into the room, looking for any signs of trouble or hints of where she’s gone. For a minute, I get distracted by her underwear drawer, getting hard imagining each item on and off her body.
My hand is on my cock before I know it, while the other grabs a red lacy thong from her underwear drawer. I clench the fabric, first in my hand, then between my teeth, as I stroke myself.
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. This isn't the time. Something's wrong, and I need to figure out what.
I scan the room methodically, looking for anything out of place. But everything is exactly where a person like Emily would have it — clean, orderly, exactly in its place.
A similar search of the rest of the apartment yields the same results: nothing, except a serious appreciation for how neat and organized Emily is and a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
She’s hiding something from me, and whatever it is, it’s serious.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Emily
I don’t see Hunter that night. Hear nothing from him, either, except a couple of texts checking in on me. Even answering those and lying about where I am fills me with a terrible sense of regret, but I know I can’t tell him the truth. Even though I’m technically buying this gun by the book, because Gary is apparently a boy scout when it comes to following the law — and, according to Harper, Mozart when it comes to cunnilingus — I can’t tell Hunter about it. If he knew that my situation with Jay was so drastic that I had to buy a gun, he’d wouldn’t just dump me, he probably wouldn’t let me within a mile of him or Charlie.
He can never know.
And Jay, I will never let him bother me again.
“Ms. Mitchell, are you ready?” Keith Doberman says, his words snapping out of my reverie and bringing me to the present, where I stand on the steps of the Ironwood Falls courthouse. Police officers file by, along with lawyers, city attorneys, and defendants — people like me, I guess, if things go wrong.
“I am.”
“You don’t look ready. You look like you didn’t sleep for shit. What the hell did you do last night? I thought I told you and Maggie to lie low.”
“I was up late doing a research paper,” I say. If it’s a lie good enough for Hunter, it’s good enough for my lawyer. Damn, am I really that much of a criminal? Lying to the man I love and to my lawyer? Next thing I know, I’ll be using my pharmacy knowledge to make meth or something, and everyone knows how that ends.
“Is there anyone who can vouch for that?”
