Dangerous Pursuit (The Pursuit #3)

5 What the Fuck?

WHAT THE FUCK?

Jackson

S omething’s off. Mia’s been jumpy all day. She’s not holding herself like she usually does, confident and poised. Instead, she’s hunched and withdrawn. I notice because, despite my best efforts, I’m constantly paying attention to her even when she thinks I’m not, and I know something’s wrong.

The problem is that I’m her asshole boss who shouldn’t care, but I do. She doesn’t know that, though, and as it stands, has no reason to confide in me, but it’s been plaguing me all afternoon. Since I can’t let it go, I need to get to the bottom of this, and I’ll do it the only way I know how.

“Mia, can I see you for a minute? Don’t knock, just come in,” I say through the intercom.

“Sure, I’ll be right there.” A minute later, the door opens, and she approaches my desk. “What can I do for you?” There it is, the hunch, the head down, the meekness. It’s not her.

“Well, for starters, you can tell me what the hell is going on.” The flinch further proves something isn’t right. She never reacts to my harshness.

“I… what do you mean? Did I do something wrong?”

“Is there anything I should know about?”

“No!” she practically shouts. “I mean, there’s nothing, sir. I mean Jackson. I just… I didn’t get much sleep last night and must be tired. I’m sorry. I’ll snap out of it, I’m sure.” She’s fidgeting with her hands, rubbing her wrists—something else she never does—and that’s when I see the marks.

“What the fuck? Mia, hold out your hands.” I’m seething.

“What? No, I’ll just get back to work, okay?” She’s pleading.

“Hands, now. I won’t ask again.”

She slowly raises her arms and reaches out. I grab one and barely push the sleeve up to confirm what I saw. Sure enough, a gnarly mark around the outside of her wrist looks like it’s from a rope or zip tie. I rub my thumb over it, and she flinches. I inspect her other hand and find the same.

“Do you want to explain why it looks like your wrists were bound? Does that have anything to do with why you’re so skittish today?”

She yanks her hands away and steels herself. “No. I said I was fine, and I meant it. It’s nothing. And it’s none of your business what I do in my private time.” This is the Mia I’m used to. Strong and defiant with her head up—which is how I catch sight of the faint bruising around her neck that looks like she did a cover-up job to hide. Seriously, what the fuck happened?

“The bruising around your neck and the wounds on your wrists say otherwise, so again, is there something I need to know about?”

“Like I said, my private life is not your concern, nor is it your business. Can I get back to work now? I have a lot to do before the weekend.” She stands tall, ready to retreat.

“Mia, I can help if you’re in trouble. I can’t have my assistant distracted, so if I need to eliminate that distraction, I will. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I don’t need help. I’m not discussing my personal affairs and what goes on during my time away from the office. What I choose to partake in is my choice. And that’s all I’ll be saying on the matter. May I be excused?” So, that’s what she’s going with. Unbelievable. Anything else may have been more believable than the bullshit she’s implying.

“If that’s the direction you’re taking, then yes, you’re excused. But, Mia, I don’t believe you for a second. If you had a proclivity of that nature, you wouldn’t be scared of your own shadow today. I’ll find out the truth, one way or another.” I’m not letting this go.

“It’s the truth. In fact, I have another date tonight, but I won’t let my personal life interfere with work again. Don’t bother wasting your time searching for answers that aren’t there. Just let it go.” She doesn’t wait for a response but turns around and walks out.

I know she’s lying. Something is going on, and she’s too scared to tell me. Granted, she has no reason to trust me. I’m her boss who treats her like shit, not someone she can talk to. Does she have anyone who can help?

Realizing I know nothing about her life outside work, besides her mom cleaning for my parents and her dad being out of the picture, I decide it’s time to learn more about Mia Marcos—and I know just the person to ask for help.

Me: Can I get the name of the private investigator you use?

Eli: I’ll send you the contact. Need any help?

Me: Not at the moment. Thanks, man.

Eli: You bet. There’s a game this Saturday, want in?

Me: Sure, another thing to keep my mind out of the gutter.

Eli: Is that possible?

Me: Probably not. Shoot me the details.

After I finish my call with the investigator, I do something way out of character and call my parents for dinner on Sunday. They may know more about her private life by seeing her mom weekly. In the meantime, the investigator can check into Mia’s background to fill in the blanks. And I might be crazy, but I’ll be accompanying Mia on her date tonight; she just won’t know. We’ll see if this is the type of hookup she’s making it out to be or simply a cover like I think it is.

I feel better about setting the wheels in motion, but I can’t shake off my anxiousness and this strange new draw to protect the girl I have no business getting involved with. I’m sure it’s just concern over her safety and nothing more. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.

It looks like we both might be liars.

Mia

Crap, crap, crap. The last thing I need is someone getting suspicious right out of the gate. Whether I like it or not, I’m in this, and with the amount owed, it’ll be for a while. Why did I have to fidget? I did such a good job covering my neck, keeping my head down, and wearing a blouse with flouncy sleeves covering my wrists, only to screw it up by fricking fidgeting.

I still can’t get over what happened last night. After taking a minute to calm down once they left, I went to clean myself up but took one look in the mirror and broke down again. I only had so long to pull myself together before Mom got home. Making it through dinner was draining, and by the time the kitchen was clean and my bed suddenly appeared in front of me, I climbed in like a zombie and crashed. The night was filled with bad dreams amidst minimal sleep, so I’d told Jackson the truth, saying I was tired.

He can’t find out what happened—thus, my brilliant idea to act like it was from a night of kinky sex. It was the only thing that came to mind. I’m sure that can make a girl tired. Seriously, what was I thinking? He didn’t fall for the lie in the slightest, and then I dug myself deeper by blabbing about my date tonight. I figured it would make the story more believable even though I’d planned to cancel the damn thing because, hello… how can I think about dating with all this?

Now I realize it’s exactly what I need. Not only will it make everything appear normal, but it’ll be a good distraction. If I were to cancel, Walker would never let it go, pestering me until I changed my mind or told him the truth. If I keep up the ruse, it’ll kill two birds with one stone. Walker will have no reason to question me, and Jackson has no way of knowing what happens behind closed doors. I’ll just fake it ’til I make it.

This is so fricking complicated. Not only do I have to worry about the shit I’m involved in but Jackson’s meddling along with it. When he offered to “eliminate my distraction,” I almost caved at the authority and determination in his voice, making me believe for a moment that he could do it. I know better than to mess with these guys, though. I need Jackson to let it go, but I have a feeling he won’t be giving up easily. If he were to learn the truth, he’d more than likely force me to go to the police, and then my mom’s life would be on the line. I won’t let that happen.

That’s why, from this moment on, I’m shaking this shit off. I’ll put my poker face on and pay my dad’s debt. They didn’t say I couldn’t play more games, only that I had to play the ones they told me to. It just means I may have to put school on hold for a year, since I’ll be a walking zombie until this is over. I’m sure there’s some kind of deferral I can do. God, what a mess.

Now I need to figure out what I’m going to do about handing over the money I’ve saved. How would they know how much I have if it’s hidden away? I’ll have to decide what amount I’m willing to give that seems believable.

My phone buzzes in the drawer. Instinctively, my head snaps toward Jackson’s office, which does no good since I can’t see through the closed door or blinds. I don’t get many texts, so I’m curious as I reach to grab it. Didn’t they say curiosity killed the cat? It’s an unknown number, but not hard to decipher who it’s from.

Unknown: Tomorrow night, sweet cheeks. Seven sharp, $2K buy-in. Let’s see if Daddy was right about you. Address tomorrow.

My eyes go wide, and my mouth opens in shock. Thankfully, my first paycheck was deposited today because the whole thing is going to the buy-in. Even though the situation scares me, I can’t deny the excitement of playing again. Not only do I love it, but I’m damn good, and it gives me a sense of satisfaction. And this time, I’m not deceiving my mom by choice. Though it does suck that the money won’t be going in my pocket.

Jackson’s door opens abruptly, making me fumble and drop my phone.

“Not skittish at all, huh?” he asks rhetorically.

Scowling, I bend, but he beats me to it, picking my phone up off the floor. I panic as he looks at the screen before handing it over. Thank God it’s locked.

“You startled me. I’m not usually on my phone during work, I swear.” Why is he standing here looking like there’s more to say?

“What was so important that you had to take care of during working hours?” he asks sternly.

God, he is such a jerk.

“I was confirming my plans for later,” I say, the lie rolling convincingly off my tongue.

“For your date , huh? Tell me, is he the guy you were with last night?” He’s not buying it.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It’s someone new.” This might work out in my favor. I can play off the “insatiable sex fiend” angle since I have the marks to prove it. Yeah right…

“And how did you meet this new guy? Is there a secret club or something?” He’s smirking at me as if calling me out.

“Online. There are these things called dating apps. You’re probably too old for them,” I snap back. My cool facade isn’t staying in place today based on what I’ve dealt with in the last twenty-four hours.

“Nice try. You’re not old enough to be on those, so how did you manage that?”

I scoff. “Are you the dating app police now? Everyone my age has an account. It’s just a way to find people, you know… who might be looking for the same things .” The implication is evident in my tone. “Age isn’t an issue.”

“Age is most certainly an issue when you’re a minor and shouldn’t be fucking someone who could go to jail for it.” He looks at me with raised eyebrows like he’s got the upper hand.

“I’m literally of age in under three weeks. Chill out. Not to mention, half the girls in high school are having sex with someone who could get in trouble for it. Are we all supposed to stay celibate until we’re eighteen or just date underclassmen?”

“Not my problem to solve. But back to the point. You’re telling me you went on an app to find some random guy you know nothing about, who could be some psycho or turn out not to be who he said he was.” He runs his hand through his hair in evident frustration. “You do know you’re vulnerable, not to mention na?ve, and could easily be taken advantage of or worse. Does that not worry you?”

I’m screaming inside at the condescending remarks. “I am not na?ve, for your information. Walker helped me choose a few guys I’ve been texting and getting to know, and we picked safe, public places to meet.”

He blows a huff of air out like all of this is crazy. “How nice of Walker to help you. Who the fuck is Walker, and where the hell are you going that is so public and safe?”

“You’re acting like a lunatic. You know this is how most people meet these days, right? Walker happens to be my best friend, and he was the one who suggested I do this. Mason and I are having dinner at Beach Hut. It’s a good location with a lot of people around. Why do you care anyway?”

“Good question. I don’t. I’m wasting too much time trying to talk sense into someone who clearly doesn’t have any. You’re right. Your choices are your business. Have fun with Mason .” He stomps off, spewing the last words as he walks away.

What is his problem?

Jackson

What the fuck is my problem? I’m letting this girl get to my head. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut and thoughts to myself? Dammit. I don’t want to care about her.

Wait. Caring for her is not the issue. I simply want to make sure she’s okay, just as I would for anybody.

That’s the only reason I’m walking into the Beach Hut Deli right after work to scope out a table. I know all about dating apps. I’m a guy who likes to get laid, and there was no better way to find a willing girl than one of those sites back in the day. If I believed that was really what she was doing, then whatever, but something’s not adding up, and I intend to figure it out.

Twenty minutes into my brooding, I catch sight of a guy standing at the entrance, scanning the place. He stays there, not finding who he’s looking for. This could be Mason. He’s young, maybe a couple of years older than Mia, and doesn’t look like a total creep, but who knows? He also doesn’t look capable of what she’s supposedly into—but again, you never know.

Not that I’m buying that crap. Not when I’ve seen her almost every day for nearly two months and haven’t seen a single sign of it. Plus, it’s not proper to leave visible marks if you are into that type of thing. She’s full of shit. So what is the truth? She could have been attacked, though would she be going on a date right after if that were the case? Not knowing is killing me.

Braden: Up for drinks?

Me: Can’t, busy.

Braden: With what? You don’t have a life.

Me: And you do?

Braden: Did you find some pussy for the night?

Me: No, just doing some recon. I’ll explain later. Enjoy yours tomorrow.

Braden: I will. She’s a hot one.

Me: Dinner with my parents again on Sunday. Meet after?

Braden: Yeah, good luck, see you then.

Two minutes later, Mia walks in, and the guy recognizes her immediately. How could he not? She’s fucking beautiful. They awkwardly greet each other, proving this is, in fact, a first date. At least she was telling the truth about that. Luckily, they’re seated where I can watch easily out of their line of sight. I chose my location well.

I watch intently as they interact, trying to decipher as much as I can through their body language. I’m mesmerized watching Mia outside the office in a casual setting. She’s cute. Her laugh, which I now realize I’ve never heard, is music to my ears. Enough that it makes me want to change my tune in the office and try a new approach. I don’t know when I went from trying to get her to quit to trying to get in her life, but my sudden determination is fierce.

It’s obvious the guy is already infatuated with her. Who wouldn’t be? He’s made her laugh quite a bit, pissing me off on one hand while also wanting him to do it more. They’re paying now, and I quickly signal my waitress to do the same. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a total stalker, noticing where my attention has been all evening. Funny how she’d be right. It wouldn’t be surprising if the cops show up any minute from an anonymous tip.

I wait until they’re out the front door to head in their direction. Let’s see if she makes good on her intention to find someone with the same interests. What a joke.

When they start walking, it’s safe for me to exit, and since there are plenty of people out, I’m unconcerned about being spotted. I’ll give this Walker guy props for picking a busy place.

They walk along the Embarcadero, apparently not ready to call it an evening, and I’m not prepared to let her out of my sight. Fifteen minutes have passed, and they stop for ice cream at Seaport Village. Fuck, could this date go any longer? At this point, I’m ready to interrupt this thing and not-so-casually end it for them. I’m getting increasingly irritated as I continue watching from the shadows, feeling much like the creeper I am as he makes his move.

After tossing their garbage, he reaches for her hand to help her up and pulls her into his body, steadying her with his hand on her hip. She doesn’t seem to mind as she looks up at him and smiles. Fuck me. How is it that suddenly, I want that smile directed at me? The guy says something, and she nods before he cups her cheek and leans down to kiss her. It’s chaste at first— wimpy fucker —but then he goes in for more, and soon they’re standing there with their tongues down each other’s throats.

Christ, this is torture.

Thankfully, they pull apart shortly after, and I see her shyness from here. There’s no fucking way she’s into what she says she is, so where does this date come in, and how the fuck could she be okay with it the night after an attack? I’m more lost than I was before and determined to find answers—not to mention putting the kibosh on any future date with this fucker.

Following the pair as he walks her to the bus stop, I watch them awkwardly hug each other before she gets on alone. Perfect. I wait until the bus is out of sight.

“Hey, Mason. That was Mia, right?” I ask, coming up behind him.

He turns around, studying me. “Yeah. Do I know you?” He’s caught off guard hearing his name.

“Let me give you a little tip. She’s off-limits. She may act all sweet and innocent, but she’s involved in some shit you don’t want to mess with. Stay away from her, or you might not like the consequences.”

He holds up his hands in defense. “What the fuck, man? I don’t want any trouble. That was our first date. If she’s with someone, she didn’t tell me, I swear.”

“I’ll let it slide and keep this to myself for now, but if you mention this to her or try seeing her again, there’s no guarantee you won’t be paid a little visit, understand?”

“Yeah, man, we’re good. She’s all yours or… whoever’s. I don’t need this shit. I’m out.”

“Good choice, Mason. Glad we’re on the same page.” I turn and walk away, feeling damn satisfied with the evening.