Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Fallon
“Is something wrong?”
We’re walking from PJ’s apartment toward downtown.
He wanted to take me to this cookie place he likes.
It’s a nice night for a walk, but he’s been vibrating with tension ever since I returned to his apartment from campus this afternoon.
He’s strung tight and glancing every which way, while keeping a grip on my hand that’s less affectionate and more like a leash he’s using to lead me.
When he doesn’t answer, I prod further.
“Does this have to do with what I told you yesterday?” It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think of.
The only thing that could’ve changed things between us.
After all, if my being PJ’s teacher and trying to break up with him didn’t make him mad, what else would?
Except maybe telling him I know my late wife killed someone.
On purpose. What would he say if he knew I helped dispose of the body?
It’s not that I don’t want to tell him. The idea of him getting freaked out by it frightens me, though. The idea of him not freaking out over it frightens me more.
PJ glances around again. Stops for a second. “I already told you it didn’t bother me. Let’s say I get why she did it, and if I’d been in her shoes, I wouldn’t have waited so long to solve the problem.”
Well.
With that, he starts walking again. Until his hand tugs mine, I almost forget to follow.
Is this his way of telling me he’s killed someone? I’m not sure what to do with that idea, but it’s not as shocking as it probably ought to be.
“Then why have you been acting as if somebody disrespected you on the day of your daughter’s wedding?”
He turns to me, confused. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The Godfather? You know, the scene where—never mind. You’re too young.”
And yet, here I am.
PJ shrugs and returns to scanning the area. Maybe he wants to make sure nobody’s nearby, given the topic of our conversation? Except we haven’t exactly said anything incriminating.
“This isn’t the best neighborhood,” PJ says after a while. “Especially after what’s been going on at your house, we need to keep an eye out.”
Okay. That makes sense.
I get a warm squeeze in my chest. I know he’s the younger one, but PJ has the kind of maturity that comes from surviving. I’ve gotten the impression, despite his denial, that it wasn’t far off from the way Marina grew up. At least in terms of trauma.
Aside from my father dying when I was young and my mother working two jobs to make ends meet, I had an okay upbringing.
I was a book nerd who didn’t get out much.
Marina, on the other hand, became hardened and strong and calculating because she had to be.
I think it had a lot to do with why I fell in love with her.
Maybe that’s also why I’m so drawn to PJ.
I think back to a few days ago when I tried to break up with him and wonder what was the worst decision: getting back together with him or trying to break up with him at all?
I still don’t want to lose my job, of course. I love that job. I need that job. But is it possible I love and need PJ more?
“What did Alice say after class that had you laughing so hard?”
What? “Who?” I’m thrown by the abrupt change in topic. Also: “I don’t know who Alice is.”
“Might not be her name. The girl with the headband who was all but giving you a lap dance after class.”
There’s a decidedly petulant grumble in the question, and when the lightbulb over my head finally goes off, I find myself almost grinning.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not fucking jealous.”
“You’re mad because I laughed at a student’s joke. Do you honestly think I’d flirt with one of my students?”
“Well, you let one of your students feed you his cock in the shower this morning.”
Jesus Christ. The memory sends heat through my body.
“PJ, I would never in my life initiate or encourage any kind of romantic interest in a student in one of my classes. Or in the entirety of Belle Argo University. The only reason I’m with you right now is because we met before school started, and I was already far too attached by the time the semester started. You fucking know that.”
An angry growl is the only warning I get before he hits his hand against the side of the building we’re passing.
“I can’t fucking stand it. You’re mine. All these hot-for-teacher wannabees gather around you after class, and all I want to do is show every single one of them who you belong to.”
He’s not being romantic. It’s a threat. One that absolutely shouldn’t turn me on the way it does.
“Is this why you attacked me when I walked in the door today? It’s going to be a long semester if you fly off the handle each time another student asks a question.”
“They didn’t need to know anything. Trust me.”
Their questions were good ones, actually. One student was eager to draw parallels between seventeenth-century society and today, and another wanted to discuss the role of witchcraft and superstition in the story. Something tells me that wouldn’t help PJ’s mood.
A thought occurs to me. A terrible, awful, wonderful, ill-advised thought.
“What if there was a way you could show I’m yours outside of school?”
He stops walking again. “How would that look?”
“My friend Daniel has a kink club in Beacon Hill. The membership is exclusive, and so pricey that there’s almost no chance anyone from academia is a member. Even if they were, every member signs a nondisclosure agreement. They wouldn’t be able to tell anyone without also hurting themselves.”
There would be some risk, going there with PJ. A small one. For PJ, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
“You’re saying you want to go to this club with me?”
“I’m saying…” Deep breath. “We both enjoy sex when there’s a chance of getting caught. What if we could fuck in an open room, where people could see us, and all of them would know I’m yours?”
It’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever had. But I’d do it for him. I want to. Maybe this is how it starts. One concession. One slip. What will the next one be?
PJ spins me around and presses me against the brick wall of a building, pushing his lips against mine. It’s not a sexy or romantic kiss. I never thought of kisses as being angry, but that’s exactly what this one is.
Nerves gather in my belly. “If you don’t want to—”
“Shut up.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only trying to suggest that maybe—”
“Jesus fuck, baby, I said shut up. I’m not mad. I’m so fucking turned on I can’t see straight. I will fuck you right here, so hard it rattles your brain, Fallon Monroe. I’m just glad you finally caught up with being mine.”
He kisses me again, sliding his tongue into my mouth. One hand slips underneath my shirt, warm fingers over my skin. It’s too warm and muggy out to be fooling around like teenagers, but that hasn’t stopped us before.
“Hey.”
I jump what feels like a foot into the air.
A tall figure approaches wearing a hoodie. Hands in pockets. I clench my fist and pull PJ closer to me, though I’m honestly not sure what to do here.
We’re in a more populated part of downtown now, right outside of a place called Midnight Cookies, its glowing storefront conveniently sandwiched between two different bars.
One has outdoor seating, and there are people milling about.
Still, those people are all drunk, they’re laughing and fooling around, and I don’t know if anyone would notice us getting mugged right now.
Now that the idea of Eric still being alive has wormed its way into my head, I’m suspicious of everyone.
PJ, shorter and slimmer, shoves himself in front of me as if I’m a fragile maiden and he’s my human shield. I don’t hate it as much as I should.
After a beat he relaxes, saying, “Hey, man. What the hell are you doing here?” He sounds curious but not concerned. That’s good, I hope.
“Looking for you.” The young man glances around. He pulls back his hood, then seems to think better of it, putting it back up again. I don’t know how he’s not dying in this heat.
“I shouldn’t be here, but you helped me out, so I’m trying to return the favor,” he tells PJ. “I saw someone who looked like the guy in your picture.”
Picture?
Beside me, PJ is frozen, his hand limp in mine.
I nudge him. Not trying to be nosy but trying to break him out of his freeze. Also, to be nosy.
“What’s he talking about?”
“You saw Evans?” PJ’s voice rings with equal parts hope and disbelief.
“Didn’t get a name.” The kid shrugs. “Thing is, Mom’s medicine costs a ton and we don’t have insurance. There’s a new guy in town looking to grow his territory. The pay’s real good, so I took a job. This Evans or whoever, I think he’s working for him.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” PJ says to nobody in particular.
The kid only shrugs. “Look, I don’t know details, but this guy your friend’s working for is not to be fucked with. All the ’stenders talk about him like he’s a ghost. Like I said, I shouldn’t even be here. I didn’t tell you anything.”
PJ nods absently. “Wait. When did you see him? Evans.”
The kid nods his head in the general direction we walked from.
“Maybe half an hour ago, give or take. The old warehouse district, across the old railroad tracks. New guy’s set up at that closed-up peach canning factory.
That’s where I was when I saw your friend.
After you gave me that card, I figured you must come here a lot, so when they let me go for the night, I came down here.
Figured I’d leave a message inside or something. ”
He looks around again, eyes fearful. “I really gotta go, though. I’m in for it if this guy hears I said anything.”
“You could’ve gone to Brennan. For work,” PJ says.
Who the hell is Brennan?
The kid shrugs. “From what I hear, this guy pays way better, especially if you’re willing to do less savory shit. He’s got his fingers in pies Brennan would never touch. People are willing to get in with him for the pay.”
So Brennan’s a criminal. And PJ knows him. I don’t know what to do with this information.
Is this the universe testing me to see how committed I am? At this point I’m certain I’m losing it.
I reach into my wallet and pull out some cash, handing it to the kid. I may not understand what’s going on here, but I do get that the kid took a risk in coming to PJ with information. He thanks me and disappears into the shadows again.
When I turn back to PJ, he’s already tapping away furiously at his phone. “I have to go check this out. I have to.” He’s pacing as he talks. “I’ll get you an Uber back to my place and you can—”
“PJ, stop.” I grab his shoulder to halt the pacing. “Breathe. You need to breathe.”
“You don’t understand. If this guy’s information is correct? My missing best friend, who I thought might be dead, could actually be alive.”
He’s vibrating with excitement. Part of me is thrilled for him, but part of me is…not pleased. Am I the jealous one now?
“If I don’t understand, then explain it to me.”
“I will, I promise. I have to check this out. Go back to my place. I’ll tell you everything when I get home.”
“You’ll tell me everything on the way. I’m coming with you.”
Whatever’s waiting in that factory, PJ and I will face it together. He’s not going alone.