Eight
Ransom
I was going to have to handle Arden Neilson.
Opal would eventually forgive me. He’d called Noa two times in a row, then texting alerts began when she finally silenced her phone and shoved it in her purse after we placed our drink order.
She hadn’t told me it was him, but I could tell.
Her expressions didn’t hide much. That was what had been familiar last weekend.
Even with her transformation, I’d seen the girl she had once been, but I couldn’t place it. That made sense now.
I’d thought of little else since that background check had landed on my desk two days ago.
I also had a list of questions I wanted answered, and that was what had pushed me to buy a plane ticket and head to the airport this morning before the sun came up.
Asking Linc for use of the family jet would have caused questions to arise, and I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about Noa.
I might never be. I liked that she was mine alone.
No one else knew about her role in my life.
Although whatever that role was now, I couldn’t be sure.
Especially since I was going to be picturing her when I got off next time. That was going to be an issue I didn’t think I could control. I hadn’t been kidding about picturing her as the cat lady.
Once we finished eating, I needed to get my ass on a plane back home. Being around her would not help me keep her in the place she belonged in my life. As my friend.
But I wouldn’t leave until I had Neilson out of her life and that fucking ring she had sitting on her bar in the cheap-ass box exchanged for some cash. She could buy something she really wanted with the money. Like books.
I watched her throat work as she took a long drink after swallowing her food, and my head went back to the no-go zone as I imagined my cock in her mouth and her throat working as I slammed it as far as she could take it.
Jerking my gaze off her neck, I glared down at the last of my burger like it had offended me.
“Are you going to tell me how you found out about me or where I lived?” she asked finally.
I knew she’d been wanting to ask, but she’d not brought it up again after I ignored it at her apartment.
“I have sources,” I replied vaguely.
She sighed as she leaned back on the booth seat.
Don’t look at her tits. Do NOT look at her tits. Eyes above the neck, Ransom.
“Friends tell friends things like that.”
I cocked a brow. “Friends also tell friends when they publish a best-selling book and get engaged,” I countered, wishing I hadn’t brought up the last part. The sour taste in my mouth from just saying it took away the rest of my appetite.
“I didn’t know how to tell you about that.” Her gaze dropped to her glass.
“You type it out and press Send.”
That got her eyes back on me. She narrowed them. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then please, elaborate,” I said, giving up on eating any more and settling back to listen.
“I was afraid of failure.”
I waited for her to say more, but she just sat there, looking uncertain and nervous.
“Okay. But after you were a success, why not then?”
The tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, and my eyes zoned in on them. Damn, who would have thought that her mouth would look like that once those fucking braces were off?
“I think maybe it was that our friendship or whatever had been built on a certain impression you had of me, and I didn’t want to change anything …” She trailed off.
“I see. So, you wanted me to think you were the cat lady.”
She let out a soft laugh and shrugged. “Yes—no—I’m not sure.”
I couldn’t force her to give me a straight answer.
Hell, the texting we’d done over the past ten years was weird.
We never saw each other. I had never spent time with her out of the library in the high school, yet somehow, she’d become important.
Seeing her words on my phone screen had become a part of my life that I wanted to keep. I enjoyed it.
“I think I get that. But what about your engagement?”
She gave me a pointed look. “You aren’t someone who believes in any kind of serious relationship, and I guess … I didn’t want to hear anything negative about it.”
“What? You didn’t want me to tell you how fucking stupid it was?” I asked, unable to hold back my grin.
“Exactly.”
The server came to take our plates and asked if we wanted dessert. I ordered a black coffee, and Noa asked for a cappuccino.
When we were alone again, Noa cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. Keeping my eyes above her neck was a struggle, but honestly, her mouth was as lethal as her body. At least for my cock.
“How long are you in town?” she asked.
I couldn’t stay, and the longer I spent in her presence, the more likely I’d end up trying to get her naked. Telling her I was here until I got rid of Neilson wasn’t an option. She’d probably frown at that since she was or was not engaged to the bastard. For now anyway.
“Headed back after this lunch,” I lied.
Her disappointment made my cock twitch, and that right there was a reason I had to put several states between us. Go back to texting.
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh.
“Do you ever come home? I mean, to Madison to visit? You’ve never mentioned it in your texts.” And I had never asked.
She shook her head. “No. I’m not close to my mother. She wants to see me about as much as I want to see her.” The bitterness in her tone didn’t mask the hurt.
Why hadn’t I ever asked about her parents? It seemed we’d talked about everything—or had that been me unloading on her? Not both ways?
“I didn’t realize you had such a bad relationship with her.”
“I don’t talk about it.”
And I hadn’t asked.
She inhaled deeply, then smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes.
“I never thought we’d do this. You know, converse in person.”
Yeah, neither had I.
“It was time,” I replied.
The light in her gaze was back. “Maybe it was.”
It had taken me a little longer than I’d planned to handle things here before going back home. My flight left in four hours. I’d be back before lunchtime.
Noa had thought I’d left Saturday after our lunch, but here it was, Monday, a little after two in the morning, and I was still here. In her bedroom. Watching her sleep, like a fucking psycho.
At least I hadn’t put hidden cameras in her apartment.
The only things I’d done was put a tracker on her phone, in the lining of all her purses, and then one on her laptop because I had figured it went with her most places.
Just for safety purposes. Someone needed to be keeping tabs on her. She was alone in Manhattan.
I had been more of a taker in our friendship, I realized. I wasn’t sure what had even been in it for her all these years. That was going to change. I had a lot to make up for. Starting with giving a shit about her being safe.
Taking the edge of the covers, I pulled them up over her shoulders to cover the side-boob view I’d been enjoying a little too much.
Tomorrow, things would get interesting, and because of it, I did tap her living room and kitchen area with a wire just so I’d hear if anyone tried to harass her about Arden Neilson’s disappearance.
The ring was in my pocket, and I’d figure out a way to get her the money I got from it.
The note written in Arden’s handwriting on his personal stationery that was left in his place would explain his need to leave.
How his mental health was deteriorating at the job and he needed to go reinvent himself.
Find a path that excited him again. I thought it was well written. It was some of my best work.
He would be finding himself, but not in the way his note or the email he’d sent to his boss would lead everyone to believe.
The life he was going to wake up to was at least a life.
I could have just killed the fucker. But this not only got rid of him; it also gave the family some goodwill with the cartel.
Arden would take the place of one of their own in a Mexican prison sentence, and they’d owe us one. It was just good business.
Smirking, I thought about the look on his face when he’d walked into his apartment to find me in his kitchen, leaning against the counter with one of his beers in my hand and my Glock lying in clear view beside me.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Arden stammered, his gaze going from the gun to me and back again.
He was pale, and that amused me. If this made him pale, he wouldn’t last very long where he was going.
“Taking out the trash,” I replied, then took a drink of the bottle in my hand.
“What—I—” He glanced back at his garbage can. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll walk you through it,” I told him. “Now, get out your laptop, pull up your email, and begin typing out an email to your boss. I’ll tell you what to say.”
He frowned. “Is this about Opal? She’s got the deal. We want her book.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “No, it’s not about my sister’s book. This has more to do with someone else. Now”—I placed my hand on the butt of my gun—“get your laptop. I don’t like repeating myself. It’s tiresome.”
He placed his leather bag on the counter as far away from me as he could get.
“Right here.” I patted my hand on the space beside me. “I want to see every word you write.”
The bastard moved closer. “What is the reason for the gun?” he asked, then laughed nervously. “I’m not a fan of firearms.”
I picked it up and tilted my head to look at him, then the gun. “And I’m not a fan of you. Now, open the goddam laptop. I don’t have all fucking night.”
Noa made a small whimper in her sleep, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I knew I needed to leave in case she woke up. I didn’t know her sleeping patterns.
With one last sweep over her room and body, I turned to leave, stopping on my way out to pick up the panties she’d taken off last and tossed into her laundry hamper.
Holding them to my nose, I inhaled, then grinned.
Might as well take a souvenir with me. If I couldn’t fuck her, then at least I could smell her while I pumped one out, thinking about it.