Page 52 of Drowning in Darkness

“You weren’t my first choice,” Camryn says. No bullshit, as always. “But you’re my only one at this stage, and until I figure this out, you’ll continue to be just that.”

“Understood. Go check your own yard, agent. Clean out the crap before you trust anyone again.”

Her forehead creases at the reminder that while I may be a threat and the embodiment of evil most run screaming from, the men pretending to be at the forefront of justice are a thousand times worse.

“What are you going to tell the bureau about Stephanie?”

“That her brother has taken over.”

That tracks. The MC has an underbelly much like us, although his is legit and does far more good than harm for any of the communities they touch. But it makes everyone pause when dealing with a prominent MC. It’s not unusual that they could help make someone disappear.

“I’ll be in touch over the following days with the next steps.”

I raise my eyes to the clouds rolling in. In a few days she might not get back here, depending on how the weather turns. It’s both a nuisance and a comfort being this far off the grid.

She gets in the car and disappears down the road, taking with her the last moments of serenity I have.

I engage the house alarm, locking us inside and triggering the vast system that gives me peace of mind.

“If you’re done talking about me, roomie, come join me on the sofa. I just pulled up Desperate Housewives for a marathon binge-watch, and I have snacks for days.”

It’s her I want to snack on.

I am going to hell.

EIGHTEEN

STEPHANIE

Some women collect purses. I collect emotional support nail polish.

If there were a prize for pretending one is not falling apart, then I believe I would take first. I’m not sure when the ability developed, perhaps somewhere between my upbringing where perfection was the only option and the way everyone swept my assault under the rug like a dirty secret.

But I relish the thought of tormenting this man with all my extraness. He seems like he needs a little more color in his world, and I am more than happy to deliver it.

“Before consuming puerile entertainment, come grab some spare clothes.”

I can’t help the way my traitorous heart squeezes when he references having women’s clothing at his secret hideout. Which lucky lady got past this man’s huge defenses to leave some of her belongings here?

I hop to my feet and follow him as he stalks into the bedroom he sent me to earlier. He points at the huge bed with perfectly pressed white bedding that looks made for a photoshoot. “Your bed.”

“Nice, thank you.”

He shoots me a look over his shoulder like he’s surprised I’m here. It’s not like I have bad manners, so it can’t be because he’s never heard gratitude fall from my lips before now.

“Bathroom, you already know.”

“What’s through the other door?”

“My room.”

“Oh, are we sharing a toothbrush? Happy for my salvia to be on your tongue?”

His steps falter before he spins on his heel, drops his eyes to my lips, and drags a hand down his face like he wishes he were anywhere else but here.

This wasn’t exactly on my bucket list for my first year out of the institute, but I’m an expert at making lemonade no matter the quality or quantity of lemons the universe delivers.

He shakes his head as he opens a closet and switches on a light. It’s compact but still amazing considering it’s the guest suite. I move inside to look around, pulling out drawers and opening cupboards like the feral goblin I hide beneath the perfect exterior.