Chapter 34
Don’t Freak Out
brIGIT
Iwake to silence.
Even in the quiet, dark house, I expect to sit up and find Cormac staring back at me.
Maybe from a dark corner. He could be sitting on the edge of the bed, and I wouldn’t even be able to hear him.
But as I stretch my arms above my head and finally drag myself upright, he’s nowhere to be found.
He told me not to wait up.
And I didn’t.
But now that I’ve awoken anyway, the chances of falling back to sleep are abysmal.
Between being unemployed and away from home, every routine in my life has unraveled, including my sleep cycle. I’ve been napping. Which is something I never do.
Falling asleep within an hour of Cormac leaving shouldn’t be surprising since he spent almost the entire day bringing me to orgasm.
Starting with two on the stairs.
Once bent over the kitchen table. Once lying across the kitchen table as a fucking feast.
Twice more on the couch, the echoes of my screams and the legs scraping across the floor with every brutal thrust driving both of us wild until he unloaded all over my stomach.
Then obviously I needed to get cleaned up, so we hopped in a shower, where he proceeded to give me another one before we fell into bed and he fucked another out of me.
Every inch of my body is exhausted, still drowning in the bliss, covered in a litany of bitemarks and hickeys, with one particularly wild imprint of Cormac’s teeth where they broke skin.
Against all odds, my mind is wide awake.
This is the first moment since the other night that I’ve really been left alone long enough to sit with my thoughts.
As much as I’ve enjoyed distracting myself from them with Cormac’s overwhelming company, I can’t hide from what happened forever.
Staring into the distance, the city lights dance through the window in Cormac’s room, and I let myself get lost in them while I reflect on all I’ve been through.
Everything that’s happened since Cormac blew into my life has knocked me on my ass.
He’s stalked me, frightened me, shown me things about myself I don’t think I ever would have had the bravery to face without him. He made fear something I could enjoy safely, rather than something to hide from.
But that doesn’t mean it hasn't had consequences, even before the attack on my house. I lost my fucking job because of him.
With a groan, I throw myself back onto the bed.
It’s not really fair to say that was his fault.
He was standing there terrified, and I chose to step in.
No one made me do it. It would likely have been a lot easier to turn around and walk away, leaving the mess of his life behind.
But there’s not a single world in which I could have. It’s a terrible realization to have, knowing that no matter what someone else’s life contains, it’s wholly entwined with my own. I couldn’t walk away from him if I wanted to.
Then someone tried to kill me in my own home.
A cold, cloying terror crawls up my throat when I remember the ruthless look in his eyes, the complete lack of consideration for my life because it served his own purposes to end it.
I can face the memories now, even alone in this bed, because it smells of Cormac, and he makes me brave. He’s faced horrors far worse than I have and had to come to a realization that he committed terrible acts, and he’s done all of it with strength I’m envious of.
It’s kind of like Skyler said, I guess. Facing the darkest parts of yourself takes bravery that many aren’t capable of.
Facing my own has been crippling.
I never thought I’d be capable of killing someone. Even if it meant saving my own life.
I should have known. I didn’t hesitate to punch Ian to get his fucking hands off of me, even though I knew he wasn’t capable of killing me. But that didn’t matter. He was going to hurt me. Even if it wasn’t in a physical sense, he was going to violate me if I didn’t stop him.
And it may have been good practice for saving my life. As much as I didn’t want to hurt anyone, my survival instincts took over just long enough to protect me.
The part that’s most painful to recall is the split seconds between the time I fired and when he hit the ground.
His whole face changed from one of cruel indifference to fear.
There was pain, of course, his mouth and brows twisted with it, but his eyes were pure terror.
He knew the second the bullet went through him that he was going to die.
My knowledge of the human body isn’t great, but I can’t imagine taking a bullet where most of your major organs are leaves much chance of survival.
Even if Cormac hadn’t shot him, he was dead.
He was trying so hard to hide me from that truth, but we both know it.
He was willing to be the murderer, the monster beneath his skin, if that’s who I needed.
There’s no doubt in my mind that’s what he’s been doing all these years. Taking on the role of a killer to keep everyone safe.
The more I think about that night and the other run-in I had with the not-officer, the more sure I am that I know him.
But from where?
All the unanswered questions are going to drive me crazy.
Rolling over, I search for my phone on the nightstand, my hand finally landing on it.
11:43 PM
After the bright light threatens to blind me, my eyes adjust, and a few notifications stack up on the screen.
Texts from mom that I’ll deal with in the morning.
Maybe.
More calls from Kelly and Antoine, just checking on me.
And buried between all of them, a text from Cormac.
Hi Bunny.
Miss you already.
Hey that name you were looking for is Aidan Foley. He’s a regular at Mingle, so you probably crossed paths a few times.
Aidan Foley.
The name only makes that suspicion in my stomach grow.
Why is it so familiar?
If I go search for that name, the only guarantee I have is that, if somehow an investigation leads to me, I’ll have his name on my computer after he went missing.
There’s no reason for me to need to know.
He’s dead.
He can’t hurt me anymore.
Wait.
My stomach drops as the memories of that night reappear, clearer than they have been now that there’s a little bit of time between then and now.
He said we. We need Cormac locked up.
He’s not alone in whatever reason he had to want him dead. Getting Cormac locked up for another murder was just plan B.
Which means he’s connected to whoever tried to implement plan A.
It’s a stretch.
I’m sure there are a lot of people who think Cormac should be dead for the good of the city, and arguably the whole world.
But what are the chances that one of them became so unhinged that they would kill someone to get him back behind bars?
I won’t be able to relax until I’ve at least explored the possibility.
My computer is downstairs on the kitchen island, so I wrap myself in a blanket and walk down, turning on only enough lamps to reduce the risk of tripping.
Sinking onto a stool at the table, I fight back a blush, remembering what I was doing down here just this afternoon and how wholly different it is to my rapidly deteriorating mood.
Maybe it’s the lawyer in me that can’t let it go. Maybe I’m just a fucking paranoid bitch.
But the least I can do to soothe the raging anxiety crawling under my skin is search his name.
If an internet search turns out to be my undoing, even with the might of Bás Dorcha and his team behind me, they deserve to get me.
With shaking fingers, I type the name into the search bar.
No news articles, thank god.
It wouldn’t be front-page news if a person went missing unless he was someone vital to the community.
But even scrolling through the second, third, and fourth pages, there’s nothing about this man.
Switching tactics, I log into the professional networking website almost everyone uses, typing the name again to see if there's a resume or anything.
I really hoped his name would be rarer than this, but there are over a dozen of them to flip through that live within the state.
Stockbroker.
Movie Theater Manager.
Real Estate Agent. Oh, that could be him. If it’s someone I’ve met in passing, my nausea can rest.
Opening his profile, the picture that pops up is of a young, blonde man, definitely not the man I shot. Fuck.
Moving on.
Entrepreneur.
Server.
Security Agent.
Bank Teller.
Security agent.
Of course, that one has no picture.
God damn it.
I glance at my phone on the counter.
This is probably a bad idea.
He’s going to laugh at me for being so fucking persistent about this.
I pick up the phone anyway to text Skyler.
How quickly could you get me info about a court case?
I don’t expect to hear back from him until tomorrow when he’s more available, but if I don’t at least send the text and feel like I’ve accomplished something in my little investigation, I’ll start pacing across the floor and spiraling. Again.
Within seconds, my phone pings and I practically dive onto the counter to check it.
bestest friend of lover boy
he’s squeaky clean brigy. we do a background check before anyone gets through the door at mingle
Would a background check include him being a witness in someone else’s trial?
…
Those little dots appear and reappear several times over the next few minutes and I wonder if I’m going to get a text from Cormac about why I’m texting his friend and not him.
I distantly wonder if he’d get jealous, biting down the urge to fantasize about what a jealous, possessive Cormac might look like.
what’s the court case
I have time
the bat man just took off
I don’t know how I know, but I know he included that last sentence for my benefit. I don’t dare text him for updates, but of course I’m worried about him and what he’s doing.
This would have been maybe 2020?
Definitely. Those of us allowed in the room were wearing masks.
Murder trial. Some kid was accused of killing his dad. A weapons dealer or something.
Their head of security swore he was clean. Corroborated his alibi.
And there was no visual evidence even though they had a full video monitoring system. I need to know the name of the security guard. Please.