Chapter Forty Nine
Should I have told Meg about Laura? Absolutely. In the court of moral correctness, I’m guilty. A terrible soon-to-be-official boyfriend and continuously questionable human being. Hot, though, so perhaps the jury will take that into consideration.
So the question is, why didn’t I tell her?
And in response, I turn to the judge sitting in my head with a gavel hanging lazily in his hand and reply, because I’m not an idiot.
I know something happened at Harrison’s hideout.
I know it in the way Meg flinches at certain noises, in the way her eyes sometimes glass over mid-sentence, in the way she’s fighting to act normal when she doesn’t even know what her own version of normal is.
So how am I supposed to roll over in her bed, kiss her sweet little forehead, and say, By the way, Amorzinha, Laura is living her best life with a pool and a little dog, while the guy living right next door is plotting to get rid of you? Easy. I’m not gonna.
Instead, I click clickety click through four open windows, three hidden tabs, two property registers and a partridge in a pear tree. I’m joking on that last one, obviously, but props if you sang it.
Chuckling under my breath, I sink into Meg’s chair as I flag Laura’s new residence to the local police department for suspicious activity, anonymously supplying them with her bank transactions from a very generous donor who has only referenced to themselves as CC.
I’m yet to find which corporation those initials correspond to, but I will.
In fact, I’m rather enjoying the challenge that this cross-referencing has gifted me.
I’m not used to someone covering their tracks so well.
Pushing away from the desk, I rest the back of my head in my hands and stare at the ceiling.
Well, that’s one thing ticked off my to-do list. Behind me, Meg stirs in her bed, the sheets cascading over her bare legs as she shifts.
Her hair is a mess on the pillow, one cheek creased from sleep, and her lips parted as a thin line of drool escapes. She’s so fucking beautiful.
Blinking herself awake in the low glow of the desk lamp, Meg looks at me like I’m up to no good, which to be fair, I usually am.
“What are you doing?” She asks, her voice is rough with sleep. I spin fully in the chair, propping my crossed feet onto her mattress.
“Being your hero, Amorzinha, as always.” There’s a soft groan in response as Meg wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Well, that instantly puts me on edge.”
“No need.” I push to stand, stretching my back and shoulders.
“You’re in safe hands, now get dressed. We’re going out.
” This causes Meg to frown further, the sheet pooling at her waist as she sits up.
I almost forget my own damn name, the moisture in my mouth evaporating.
Her breasts are full, with a fading love bite above one, her nipples perfectly round and utterly lickable—
“We’re going out now?!” Meg reaches over for her phone on the bedside table and squints at the time.
“It’s like…seven in the evening. Where would we even go?
” I snap out of my trance, charmed by the confusion in her screen-lit features.
I love keeping her on her toes. And her knees, on her back, on her front.
“Thiago! You’re staring at my tits again. ”
“You can’t blame a man. Put some clothes on before I climb back into bed and never let you leave. I have a surprise waiting for you.” Meg’s blue eyes narrow, but thankfully, or unthankfully, she pulls the cover up to hide her chest.
“That is not comforting.”
“It was not designed to comfort. It was designed to intrigue,” I bob my brows. Heading to her drawers, I pull out some underwear, cargo pants, a t-shirt, and dump it all on her bed. Meg purses her lips at the pile, clearly lacking the motivation to get out of bed.
“Can’t we just sit here? We have the entire weekend ahead for you to kidnap me.” Her pout is adorable, but her tactics will not work on me today.
“First of all, I would never kidnap you. That’s tacky and unoriginal.” I roll my eyes, crossing the room to scoop my hoodie off the floor and toss it at her because romance occasionally smacks you in the face with cotton. “Second of all, if I were going to kidnap you, I wouldn’t bring snacks.”
That earns the tiniest of smiles. Meg cradles my hoodie against her chest, her blue eyes glinting with a hint of excitement.
“There are snacks?” My response is a tilt of my head and a half-lidded gaze.
“I’m not an amateur, meu amor.” Huffing a laugh, Meg swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands in all her naked glory, stretching her arms above her head. Now she’s just teasing me.
“Fine, but if this turns out to be some weird interventional thing where you make me talk about my feelings, I’m pushing you into traffic.”
“Noted. Minimal feelings. Maximum carbs.” Smirking, Meg dresses whilst I will myself to turn away.
Double checking I’ve closed down everything on her computer and covered my tracks, I power it off in time to push my feet into my sneakers.
I’m back in the sweatpants and t-shirt that I started the day in, but it’s fine.
Where we’re going doesn’t require a shirt and tie.
We sneak out of the dorm a short while later, creeping past Reid’s room as if we’re doing something more scandalous.
It’s more that I just don’t want to alert the bastard to our presence because, should he appear, I’ll have to protect Meg and physical altercations aren’t my strong suit.
I can ruin him virtually, but I can’t even pretend that I’d win in a punch-up.
Besides, my face is too pretty to sport a broken nose.
The evening has settled into that late-autumn balminess where the air smells like damp leaves and all of the pumpkin spice tainting everyone’s lattes.
I can’t stand the stuff myself, but then again, I take my coffee black.
Campus is quieter than usual, most people tucked away to study or vape or whatever normal students do when they’re not being rescued by a sleep-deprived hacker with impulse-control issues.
Meg walks beside me with her hands shoved deep into the hoodie pocket, her shoulder brushing mine every few steps.
She doesn’t ask where we are going again, which means she either trusts me or she’s too tired to fight.
She does, however, catch my smug grin as we approach the far east side where a small Ford is waiting for us.
“You seem very pleased with yourself,” she comments, ducking her head as she lowers into the backseat.
I can’t disagree, sliding in beside her and patting James on the shoulder.
He was more than happy to be our chauffeur for the evening when I shot him a message, offering to up the grade of his recent paper.
The GPS on his phone is already loaded with our destination, so I sling my arm around Meg and settle in for the short ride.
Just enough time to mentally run through the plan.
Some people take things slow, asking for permission before they start tracking their girl’s movements and pre-empting her next meal before she gets hangry.
Those people are lame, but it seems Meg wants me to fulfill the boyfriend application process like a good boy, and a good boy I am.
Leaving the campus behind, we snake through streets before stopping in front of the hidden gem I discovered just a few hours ago online.
An old arcade tucked between a laundromat and a twenty-four-hour bakery, its sign flickering in neon pink and buzzing violently.
Patting James on the shoulder, I thank him for the ride before exiting to hold the door open for Meg.
Her face is torn between suspicion and excitement as she rocks back on my heels.
“This is your big mysterious outing?” Her mouth twitches at the corners.
“This is phase one,” I clarify and her eyes fly wide open.
“Oh God.”
“Trust the process,” I encourage, slipping my arm into hers and guiding her towards the grimy doors. Meg sighs, fully relenting to my scheme.
“I already told Reid I don’t trust him today.
Don’t make me add you to the list.” I almost trip over my own heartbeat at the sound of Reid’s name, but I keep my smile glued in place.
I can’t let on that I have any more knowledge about him than Meg does, when in theory, I don’t.
All I know is he’s a bit of a ghost, which is all the more cause to not trust him.
I hate deceiving Meg, but until I can see where these cards are going to land, I’m holding them close to my chest.
“You told Reid you don’t trust him?” I ask in my best attempt at sounding causal. We push through the doors, instantly greeted by the racket of machines blaring twiney music.
“Mmhmm,” Meg answers airily, distracted by all of the lights. “Just before I smeared paint on his face. He was being weird, trying to comfort me after Liz destroyed my canvas.”
“Wait,” I pull to a stop and stare at her. “Liz destroyed your canvas? But I thought we liked her.” This earns me another appreciative smile.
“We do. It was for my own good apparently, even if it sucked at the time. I will trust the process,” she mimics my words back to me, “see what tomorrow brings.” Unhooking our arms, Meg wanders forward to watch over the shoulders of those on the slot machines.
Trailing just behind, I find my gaze drawn to the hideous carpet beneath my shoes.
I try to keep my shit-list short, preferring to use my talents for hired work rather than personal vendettas, but I think Liz might have just tiptoed her way onto it.
She might just be following her preferred teaching methods, but I hate anyone who makes Meg’s life harder when she is already carrying too much.
Still, tonight is not for making enemies or worrying about mystery neighbors or the very tempting idea to find Liz’s tax records and anonymously subscribe her to seventeen footography newsletters. Tonight is for Meg.