Page 142 of No Headlines Please

Fuck.

What if it was about Sloane?

What if Delaney was only here to give me the same grief I'd been getting from everyone else?

It felt like a lot of effort just to tell me I was an asshole. But hey, Delaney had called me that name before.

I was still pissed when I thought about it.

But of course, I'd brought some of this on myself by not telling Delaney my full name from the start – and if not from the start, certainly by the time we got to coffee or kissing.

And now, I had questions of my own.

Like…what was the deal with the business card?

And who the hell was Walt?

Unless…

Oh, shit.

That first day I'd gone to her sister's building, I'd shown Delaney's picture to exactly one person – the janitor in the lobby. I hadn't asked his name. But I'd bribed him with beer money, telling him to call the number if he spotted Delaney.

I'd given him one of Cal's cards, because tracking people down was Cal's gig, not mine.

And let's be real. I didn't want random strangers calling me.

I'd seen the guy a second time maybe twenty minutes later, heading into the building right behind Delaney. He'd complained when we'd blocked the door. And afterward, he'd made some crack about it being my lucky day.

When he'd disappeared into the elevator, I'd figured that was that.

I'd never given him another thought.

Until now.

And just like that, a few missing pieces slid into place. If Delaney discovered I'd shown the janitor her photo, she would've been smart to be suspicious.

And yeah, maybe a little angry.

Or a lot.

But if that was the case, why didn't she say so? Why dance around it with vague accusations?

And why the change of clothes?

I almost scoffed. Was she wearing that same pink dress now?

I was morbidly curious.

And why was I suddenly pissed?

I sat still a long moment, trying to get a grip. Who, exactly, was I pissed at?

Me?

Or her?

And how did this relate to the woman in the elevator? The one who'd no doubt told Delaney who I was?