Fifty-Three
Bay
Slipping off my heels, I sighed in relief and headed toward the kitchen. Today had been my last day as a flight attendant. I’d put in my two weeks’ notice after going to Atlanta to meet with the agency partners at Baskton Marketing.
They had been amazing and excited about my coming to work for them.
I was taken to dinner at an expensive rooftop restaurant, put up in a five-star hotel, and treated as if I were royalty.
It all seemed too good to be true, but all the research I had done on them came back positive.
They’d been in business for over fifty years with massive companies and corporations as their clients.
It was hard to wrap my head around. Being given everything you thought you wanted and realizing it wasn’t your key to happiness wasn’t easy to accept.
I’d found that I was more depressed than I’d ever been.
The only moment of hope that had soared in me was when I saw Carver’s Bootleg Whiskey among Baskton’s client list. There was a connection to Hale, and it made sense.
The job offer—Belinda and Reggie had been thrilled to hear about it, but neither of them had heard of the company.
In the end, there was only one person I knew who could have made the call that got me this job.
But after weeks of not hearing from him, no contact at all, I had to accept this was his payoff.
The sorry I abducted you wrongfully, fucked you, then sent you packing apology.
There had been a part of me that didn’t want to take it because of that.
What it was. The other part wanted it because I’d have a chance of seeing him again, however slim it may be.
I knew it was weak and pathetic. The man had gotten what he wanted, and it clearly hadn’t been what he had hoped so he got rid of me.
The pang in my chest wasn’t new. I’d learned to live with it the way people learned to live with indigestion.
Taking down a bottle of wine I had been keeping to celebrate this night, the one where I was officially a content creator manager at a marketing corporation, I opened it and poured a full glass.
“Cheers,” I muttered to myself before taking a drink.
Both Lillibeth and Dan had wanted to take me out for drinks as a farewell, but I declined.
Saying I had to start my new job and didn’t have time.
It was a lie, but I hadn’t wanted to hurt their feelings.
The thought of going out and having to pretend to be happy was too exhausting to contemplate.
I’d rather be here, alone, sulking in my good fortune, handed to me by a man who wanted nothing else to do with me.
How long was I going to miss him? I’d missed him longer than I’d even known him. Yet he was always there in my head—his wicked smirk, the deep timbre of his voice, the scent of spice, wood, and leather that clung to him. God, was I always going to feel like this? As if a part of me was missing?
Taking my glass, I went to the sofa and sat down, curling my legs up onto the worn fabric and then covering up with the afghan I kept thrown over the back of it.
Turning on a movie didn’t appeal to me; neither did reading a book.
I preferred to sit and stare out the window.
The lights on the street would become hypnotic after a while.
I could zone out. Try and forget. Think of nothing at all.
Tomorrow, I would have my new job to distract me. It would become my focus. My volunteering would become a weekend thing only. I had a new life now, a fresh chapter to begin.
Sirens interrupted the silence, but I didn’t get up.
That wasn’t anything new in the city. It happened often.
I sat, watching the lights illuminate outside my window, waiting for the noise to pass.
But it didn’t. The sound got louder until it felt as if it were parked on the street in front of my building.
Setting down my glass, I stood up and walked over to see what was going on.
It was rare we had that kind of activity.
There were three cop cars already parked and two more arriving.
I couldn’t see much because of their flashing lights, but it seemed as if there was something over by the dumpster that had all their attention.
I hoped this wasn’t some kind of drug bust. Not this close to my apartment.
I had always felt like this was a safe area.
I supposed if it was, then that kind of police reaction should keep it from happening again. With a sigh, I went back to my wine to finish in my celebratory sulking.
Hale
She would be upset if she ever found out, but it was the only thing that could be done.
He wasn’t going to stay away from her. Even after he’d been ordered to.
If I hadn’t killed him, Bone Apex would have.
My way was quick, easy. He hadn’t felt a thing.
They would have tortured him; it would have taken him days to finally die.
He would have been made an example to others.
But Bay would never understand that. Not the inner workings of an inner-city gang.
I’d given him a warning, but he’d come back not once, but twice, watching her.
With motherfucking binoculars. It would have been only a matter of time before he approached her again.
And I wasn’t allowing that. I had to live in the shadows of her life, and there was only room for one criminal in those shadows.
Smiling, I looked down at her sleeping, and I felt my first ease today. The tightness in my chest, which was growing more suffocating by the day, released.
Damn woman needed a keeper. So fucking naive and gorgeous.
She didn’t see the danger around her. Lived in complete oblivion to it all.
I’d have her out of this inferior complex before week’s end.
The new apartment was almost ready for her, and the setup I had taken great care to prepare for her was done.
All that was needed next was for her to move.
After tonight, I was going to speed that process up.
The fucker might be dead, but I didn’t want her here any longer.
I’d work on that in the morning. Right now, I just wanted to soak this in. It was the only time I got to be this close. It was the only time I could touch her pale skin. Smell her scent. This was what I had started to live for. The nights.