Burn for Me (The Six Six Six Rule #2)

1. The Nightingale Syndrome

The Nightingale Syndrome

Bex

T he fifteen-minute walk back to our condo feels more like an hour.

I walk ahead of Connor and Keene, replaying the last few minutes inside the art center in my head.

The masked man didn’t scare me at first. For a second, I thought he was the same guy who kissed me at the party.

If I have to be honest, I thought Connor was behind the mask and he had come back to the art center to steal some alone time with me.

That’s why I let him get close enough to attack me.

How could I have been so stupid? I can’t even say I was drunk to justify my na?ve behavior. I had one glass of white wine that I nursed for the entire evening.

It’s something my father drilled into me and all his other elite clients at Pure Shine ; each of us had sponsors, and it was quite common to get invited to glitzy parties and promotional events where the booze was always flowing.

No matter how tempted you are, no matter how intoxicated everyone around you is, always remember that those events aren’t ragers on Greek Row.

You’re there in a professional capacity, representing Pure Shine.

Your behavior reflects on each of us. Alcohol lowers your inhibitions, impairs your judgment.

Being drunk isn’t an acceptable justification for any action that could tarnish the reputation of our agency.

If you bring shame on us, you’ll be found in breach of the morality clause in the contract you signed when you joined.

Dad didn’t mess around with his agency's reputation. I can remember once when someone—another dancer—got wasted at a party and ended up skinny dipping in the pool of the house of a famous pop star. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the first or the last time our host had witnessed that kind of antics, but the video was all over social media within minutes.

It went viral even before we got to our LA hotel from the party.

The dancer in question never even made it back to the Pure Shine mansion. She was kicked out and blacklisted. Within twenty-four hours, she had lost most of her followers, and no one has heard her name or seen her since.

So there’s no way I would overindulge during a work event.

If I let that masked man come close enough to attack me, I have only myself to blame. I thought it was Connor and I was dying to kiss him to confirm my suspicions that he was my mystery kiss.

I wrap my arms around my middle as goosebumps erupt all over my skin at the memory of my attacker’s touch.

I had been in a daze, excited to kiss Connor until I felt a completely different vibe than the one my masked kisser had.

It’s hard to explain it, but I knew that the man in the art center wasn’t the same guy who rocked my world with a breathtaking kiss.

Connor and Keene are talking in hushed tones behind me, their voices not loud enough for me to be able to make out what they’re saying.

Could they have planned this together? After all, like Keene pointed out, they were both against my moving in with them.

I don’t want to believe that Connor would try to hurt me.

When we were together with Jamie, he was so respectful. It was obvious that he wanted me, but he didn’t act on his desires until he was one hundred percent sure that I wanted him, too. That isn’t a behavior compatible with someone chasing you to hurt you, possibly even kill you.

And yet… could I have gotten him so wrong?

The thing that makes the most sense to me is that the person who has been the most vocal about how he feels about my presence would try to scare me off.

Our condo comes into view, and I slow my pace, letting my two roommates catch up with me.

“Weird,” I say, noticing that the front door is slightly ajar.

“Bex, stay back.” Keene pulls me away from the door, causing me to lose my balance.

I literally crash into his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He can’t see my glare since my back is flush with his front; but my roommate is stubborn as fuck and, rather than letting me go, he wraps one strong, muscular arm around my waist.

“Don’t touch anything.” He growls, tension radiating from his tall, strong body. “Did either of you leave the door unlocked when you left earlier?”

The question is directed at both me and Connor.

“No, I didn’t. What about you, Bex?”

I squirm against Keene’s hold, but he doesn’t loosen his hold on me. “Of course I locked the door. You can ask Luke; he came to pick me up to go to the art center, and he saw me doing it. If anyone left it unlocked, it must have been one of you.”

Connor shakes his head. “You were the last one to leave the house. I had back-to-back classes today and then practice. Luke had asked us to come help with the final touches to the art center before leaving practice to pick you up, and I came directly from there.”

“So did I,” Keene confirms.

“Look.” Connor points out something I hadn’t even noticed between being lost in my thoughts and the way Keene grabbed me as soon as I tried to open the door.

The front of our condo has a glass panel on one side by the front door, and the glass has been smashed.

“Someone must have broken the glass to flick the lock open from the inside.”

He points toward the metallic latch under the door handle that can be used to unlock the door from inside without the need of a key.

There’s also glass all over the floor right at the entrance.

“What are you doing?” I gasp when Connor pushes the door open with his shoulder. “If someone broke in, they could still be in there. We should call 911, or at least campus security.”

Keene disagrees with me; at this point, I shouldn’t even be surprised.

“I doubt it. With all the noise you made, whoever broke into our house has probably run out the back. Besides, campus police or the sheriff's department will take a hot minute to get here. If someone’s still inside, we’ll make sure they’re going to regret breaking into our place. Are you in, Con?”

Connor nods. “You bet.”

“Stay here.” Keene orders, letting me go and following Connor inside the house. “Just in case.”

Irritation washes over me like a tidal wave. “The fuck if I stay out here.” I grind out.

I follow my roommates inside, unable to suppress a shudder. I’ll chalk that up to nerves at the thought that someone could still be in our house rather than to the loss of Keene’s warmth.

The goosebumps that scatter all over my arms and chest must be of relief that the asshole is no longer touching me.

I’m still engulfed by his spicy scent, and that pisses me off all over again. I hold the fact that he smells so good against Keene, too.

It doesn’t take us long to establish that whoever broke into our condo is now gone.

At first glance, nothing is out of place. Everything looks exactly the way we left it.

The only obvious signs of a forced entry are the broken glass pane at the entrance and a capsized chair outside on the deck; the full-length glass door that leads out back onto the deck has also been left slightly ajar.

“Whoever broke in,” Keene says, more to Connor than to me. “Must have left through the back door.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I can’t resist the urge to roll my eyes at Keene’s poor detective skills.

The fact that he doesn’t react to my obvious provocation pisses me off even more.

“Since we don’t have unwanted company,” he decides.

“Let’s do a walk around the house to see if anything is missing or looks out of place.

Everyone start from their own bedroom. I’ll check Jamie’s when I’m done with mine.

Connor, you take a better look at the deck.

Bex, you’re in charge of looking in the kitchen. ”

It’s not a request; it’s an order. His commanding tone rubs me the wrong way, and I stay rooted to my spot, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why the kitchen? Because I’m a woman?” I provoke him.

A flash passes in Keene’s eyes, and if I didn’t know that the guy has the same amount of humor as a cactus, I would think he’s amused. “If the shoe fits…” he grins in my direction.

“Who put you in charge of the investigation?” I scowl. “I don’t have to do what you say.”

To my surprise, Keene doesn’t have any comeback to my argument. He just walks away, headed to his room, without another word.

Have I won the argument? Deep down I know I didn’t, and that pisses me off more than anything Keene could have said.

Despite my reluctance to do what Mr. Asshat said, my feet take me inside my room.

“Shit.” I gasp as I’m greeted by a jumbled mess.

It looks like my closet has vomited all its contents everywhere. Looking at all my belongings scattered all over the bed and the floor makes me realize how much stuff Jamie bought me to replace all the things I left behind when I ran away from my own wedding.

A strange feeling expands in my chest at the sight of the surrounding mess.

Just the idea of some stranger going through everything I own, including my underwear, brings tears to my eyes.

I feel violated.

Another, more upsetting thought, makes me run to my nightstand. “Lady M!”

The small fishbowl was covered by a sweatshirt, but when I lift it, my goldfish comes to greet me; her mouth touches the curved side of the bowl as if she were kissing it.

Tears of relief spill out of my eyes as I hold the fishbowl to my chest. “I’m so glad you’re ok, Lady M.”

The noise of someone clearing their throat makes me turn toward my bedroom door, where Connor is standing.

My brother’s teammate is looking at me like a deer in front of headlights, his big hand clutching the door handle with white-knuckle force.

“Bex, are you alright?”

I don’t know what it is. If it’s the genuine concern in his green eyes, the fact that a stranger just went through my things; or that I was attacked by a masked man and things could have gone much worse if I hadn’t managed to get away from him.

Maybe it’s all of those things that finally have the best of me. I burst into tears.

My whole body is shaking to the point that water from the fishbowl is sloshing onto the front of my little blue dress.