Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
SYLVIE
Eli left abruptly, shutting the door a little too hard behind him.
It was pretty clear that I was the reason he was irritated, but I was too tired to care.
The deadbolt turned with a click, and I wondered if he thought he was locking me in.
If he was, I wasn’t sure I cared, at least not right now.
It wasn’t like I was going anywhere. I didn’t have anywhere to go.
It had hit me in the shower, when I’d finally stopped moving long enough for the last twenty-four hours to settle.
I was damn lucky I’d had that lead to Sinclair Security.
If I’d shown up in Atlanta just following the trail of that Peach Pass, I would have found nothing.
And I’d be completely, utterly on my own.
Or dead.
So many ifs. So many different paths I could have taken.
Like not investigating Emily Shaw’s murder.
It was sad to say the world was chock-full of unsolved cases of murdered women.
I could have picked any one of them, but that car bomb had intrigued me.
So here I was, living on sufferance, my life shut down and a target on my back.
Sinclair Security was the only thing standing between me and whoever had blown up my van and cut off my credit cards and bank account. That meant I needed them a lot more than they needed me, but I wasn’t going to be the one to point that out.
Eli came back a few minutes later, as promised, his dark brows pulled tight. He dropped a brown paper bag with string handles on the counter, looking past me rather than at me. Clearly, he was still in a mood. Whatever. I was too tired and hungry to stress about it.
“Lunch,” he said, pulling out a stack of napkins and plastic-wrapped silverware. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back later.” He left again, the deadbolt clunking into place a second after the door shut behind him.
Lunch turned out to be a gooey, cheesy, humongous serving of lasagna. I would have made do with chips or something, but I could get used to this. I’d have to thank Alice later. Between two meals’ worth of lasagna and the necessities she’d stocked in the kitchen, I was set for food.
I wandered the apartment after I finished eating and stored my leftovers in the fridge.
There wasn’t much to see—an elegantly planned living room with an oversized flat-screen TV that flowed into a dining area and from there to the kitchen.
On the other side of the apartment, there was a short hall, at the end of which were two decently sized bedrooms, both with king beds and ensuite baths.
I’d dumped my shopping bags in one of them before my shower and spent a few minutes unpacking and tearing off tags before I made use of the washer and dryer.
When that was done, still alone and getting bored, I curled up on the couch with my tablet and a cup of tea.
I was locked out of my bank account. Ditto for credit cards.
Clearly, someone had their fingers in my business, and it didn’t take a genius to guess it was the same person who wanted me dead.
I needed to talk to Eli about my accounts, but since he hadn’t reappeared, I’d have to let the whole issue of my frozen funds sit for the moment.
I hadn’t been sure what I was getting into, investigating Emily Shaw’s death, but now I knew whatever this was, it was way bigger than anything I’d seen before.
I scrolled social media, checking in on listener responses to the latest episode I’d dropped on my podcast. So far, so good—everyone was eager for the season finale.
My stomach knotted as I thought about that.
I should be so much further into season five than I was.
I should have walked away, found another case, another victim.
Now I was in too deep to get out. If something didn’t shake loose soon, my career would be on the line.
Let it go, Sylvie, I told myself. There’s not a damn thing you can do about any of this until Eli comes back.
I could see the door to the apartment from the couch, and it remained stubbornly closed, still locked.
I wasn’t stuck here. I could flip the deadbolt and let myself out at any time, but this being Sinclair Security, it was safe to assume everything was under surveillance.
I glanced up at the ceiling of the apartment.
I didn’t see any cameras, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
I’d ask Eli later, but wherever the cameras were, I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave the apartment unseen.
And that brought me right back around to the real question. If I left, where would I go?
I didn’t know. The only safe place was my parents’ home, but that was states away, and the last thing I wanted was to lead whoever was after me to their doorstep.
I set my tablet on the coffee table and rolled over to my side, pulling up a video I’d been meaning to watch about modern forensic techniques.
My eyes drifted shut as I listened to theories on chemical solvents and blood splatter, the technician’s voice sliding into a monotonous drone as fatigue dragged me under.
I jerked awake to the sound of my name, sitting up before I was fully conscious. Eli stood in front of me, hands on his hips, annoyance on his face.
“What?” I asked, blinking.
Somehow, I’d forgotten how hot he was since I’d seen him last. Those cheekbones, that lower lip, the way his thick, dark hair tumbled over his forehead. The black T-shirt stretched over his shoulders.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I did not need to be ogling Eli Bishop.
I was an irritation he was putting up with.
Mostly, I thought, so I wouldn’t get in his way.
And while I needed to stay on his good side, I wasn’t putting sex on the table as a bargaining chip.
Not that he’d asked. Drooling over his shoulders wasn’t going to get me anywhere but in more trouble.
Shut it down, I ordered my hormones. I’d made it to almost thirty without a traumatic romantic fuckup. I wasn’t going to break my streak now when there was so much more at stake, no matter how attractive my guard/partner was.
“Get up,” he said. “I brought food.”
“I just ate lunch.”
He let out a snort of laughter. “That was four hours ago. It’s dinnertime.”
“I slept for four hours?” I tapped the screen of my phone on the coffee table and realized I had, in fact, slept for four hours, and it was actually dinnertime. “Huh. Okay.”
I got to my feet, a little wobbly, still getting my bearings. I wasn’t a napper. Sleeping during the day always left me disoriented, wishing I could just go back to bed. But it was too early for that. I wouldn’t sleep tonight if I didn’t get myself moving now.
“What’d you get for dinner?” I asked.
“Barbecue,” he said. “I was going to do sushi, but I didn’t know if you ate fish.”
“I eat anything,” I said. “Except lima beans. Not a fan of lima beans.”
“Me either.” Eli’s face twisted. “They taste like sand.”
“Ugh, right? Did you get tortured with succotash when you were a kid? I swear my mom bought ten-pound frozen bags of it.”
“Yuck.” The smile that spread across Eli’s face was unexpectedly wistful before it vanished, and he gave a sharp shake of his head. “My mom also loved the succotash,” he said.
“I could go through the rest of my life,” I said, “never eating that again. I’m good with corn, just not the lima beans.”
“Good, because there’s corn on the cob somewhere in here,” he said, lifting his chin at the white paper bag on the counter. “I also got you this.” He set a sleek black laptop beside the white paper bag, placing the neatly secured power cable on top.
“What do you mean you got me this?” I asked, saying the last word slowly as I reached out to run a finger down the side of the expensive machine on the counter. I didn’t have to ask how much it was. I recognized the make, if not the specific model, and it was better than the one that had blown up.
“I can take you out to buy a different one if you want, but this was in inventory, hadn’t been assigned yet, and we got it at a bulk price.
It’s cheaper in the end than what you’d pay retail for something that isn’t as good.
Cooper was fine selling it to you. The bill’s due when you have access to your bank account again.
Emmett and Maddox said you’re good for it. ” He grinned.
Clearly, they’d already had their fingers in my background and my accounts. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. “They can see what’s in my accounts, but not who shut them down?”
Eli’s lips twisted in a scowl. “That part’s a little more complicated.
They can see that your accounts are frozen for suspected fraud, but that’s less likely a hack and more probably a false report.
Digging it out and reversing it takes time, and they’re on it.
They both feel confident they’ll get your funds freed up.
But not today or tomorrow, so we’ll send you a bill. ”
I nodded. I wasn’t going to argue. I needed to replace that laptop, though I thought about practicalities. “I’ll need the police report to file for insurance,” I said.
“Hold off on that. You’ll need to go back to the station at some point. We’ll get the report then.”
I nodded again. It wasn’t like the payment from my insurance company would be overnight. And even if it was, where would I put the check? Now didn’t seem like the time to start opening new bank accounts.
“Okay, dinner, and then what?” I asked.
“Dinner, and then you watch a little TV and go back to bed,” Eli said.
“And what are you doing?” I’d noticed a dark duffel bag by the front door.
“Staying in the other bedroom for now,” he said.
“To keep an eye on me, or to keep me safe?” It came out sounding flirty. Not my intention, but something about Eli made me want to poke at him.
He just shrugged, the smile on his face the kind I suspected he gave to clients who were irritating him.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “And while I’m sleeping, what will you be doing?”
“Nothing you need to know about.”