19. Ava
19
Ava
R innnnnngg.
What the hell is that?
Riinnnnnng.
My hand slapped the alarm on the side table, my cheek pressed into my mattress, an arm draped around my naked waist.
Rinnnnggg.
"Are you going to get that?" Nate asked, his groggy voice sending warm chills throughout my body.
"It's not mine."
I smacked my lips after licking them, my arm sagging over the side of the bed.
"Yes, it is."
Rinnnggg.
I let loose a quick breath through my nose and blindly searched my nightstand, my fingers brushing over the smooth rectangle that controlled most of my life. "Hello?"
"Is this Ava Thatcher?" a woman's voice responded.
I pulled myself up and flung my legs over the bed with Nate's arm wrapped around my waist. My clock read seven-forty a.m. in bright red blocks. "Yes. Who is this?"
"I'm Margaret Hinds, Mayor Mark Haynes' secretary. I know it's early, but is this a good time to talk?"
My eyes widened as I pinned the phone to my ear with my shoulder, reaching out to snatch up my notepad and pen.
How many emails had I sent them?
Was this a warning?
Mark Haynes wasn't a terrible Mayor. Sure, like every politician, he made promises that he had yet to put into action, but he enacted some good local programs and seemed like a good family man with decent values.
"Yes, absolutely." I stood and paced, my bare feet padding against the floors.
"Mr. Haynes would like to meet with you today if your schedule permits it. Please remember, he's a busy man."
I rolled my eyes, then glanced at Nate.
He lay on his stomach, his muscular arms propped under his cheek as he stared at me with liquid desire, a vibrant military tribute tattoo spread across his shoulder and back. Fire hit my core, and my heart rate fluttered into overdrive.
"Mrs. Thatcher?"
"Huh? Sorry." I tore my gaze from him, dropped my notepad on the nightstand, and then readied my pen. "Yes, that works for me. I can do that. What time?"
I chewed into my inner lip as Nate swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood in a swift motion, and placed his hands on my hips. His lips trailed over my shoulder, his hard cock pressing against my ass.
"How soon can you be here?"
"I uhh. " I tipped my head back, my mind blanking as he tickled my earlobe with his lips. "I need about an hour to gather my things. Is that alright?"
Nate's hand cupped my breast as I wrote down the number one and circled it five times, his fingers pinching my erect nipple, his other drifting down my belly.
I can't miss this opportunity.
But he's making this really difficult.
"See you then." Margaret hung up, and I dropped my broken phone on the nightstand.
"You're cruel, but I'm worse." I spun in his arms and wrapped mine around the back of his neck. "I have to go."
"So soon?" His mouth came down on mine, and I moaned into him, his hand trailing down to my ass. "I was really hoping to show you something else." He lifted me in one fell swoop, my legs perched around his waist.
My core throbbed, his erection probing my swollen center. Heat spread in my belly, and before logic came to reason, I gave him a nod and pressed my lips to his.
Forty minutes later, we stepped out of the shower, my legs like jelly, and my hair flat against my skull like a wet raccoon. "Shit."
"What's the hurry?" Nate wrapped his towel around his waist.
"I've been begging for this interview like a starving dog asking for scraps."
A wide grin spread across his lips. "You're cute when you're dramatic."
Scoffing, I dragged a brush through my hair, braided it over my shoulder, then threw on the best interview outfit I could find. "I hate to have to do this, but... I have to kick you out."
Nate slid his pants over his hips, stood, and buttoned the top, my vision darting straight to the Adonis Belt, directing my lustful thoughts. "It's fine. I should probably get to work, too."
"Do you need a ride?"
"I have my motorcycle here, remember?"
Where does he live?
"Oh, right."
Slipping on my flats, I hobbled into the living space, grabbed my things on the couch, and turned back to the fully dressed man beside my bed.
"Ready?"
I nodded, and we stepped outside together, my key in the lock before it closed. "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing." He took my bag from my hand. "Let me walk you to your car."
"Thanks." Turning the key, we bounded down the stairs in time.
Trina stepped out of her apartment door as we hit the bottom level, her eyes locking with mine before a giant smile spread across her face. "Well, good morning, Ava."
I gave her a tight-lipped smile as we passed. "Morning."
Unlocking my car door, I swung it open, narrowly missing Nate's knees as he jumped back. "Whoa."
"God, sorry."
He handed me my bag, and I tossed it into the passenger. "Don't drive distracted. You'll get there in time." He cupped my cheeks and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Can I see you again?"
I nodded, my mind soothing as his lips parted from my skin. "Yeah." Exhaling, I glanced up. "Shoot me a text."
"Will do. Good luck. I hope I didn't make you too late."
Smirking, I slipped into my seat, started the car, and drove away, leaving him standing by his motorcycle.
The flutters in my belly stayed in flight my entire drive, even as I'd found a parking space around the corner of the busy street where the Mayor’s office was located.
He'd stayed the night, his touch never leaving mine, the old small box of condoms in my nightstand depleted and in need of replenishing.
It'd been ages since I'd brought a man home, and it'd been since Darrel since they'd stayed the night. I never wanted them to stay.
The busy street bustled with honking horns, people walking to their offices with purses draped over their arms, men in suits, or dressed casually. It was the variety that struck me as I pushed the Mayor's door open.
Light gray tile floor shined in the morning, light brimming through big fat windows, and sleek wooden furniture dotted the floor in a way that would make Joanna Gaines happy.
My flats tapped against the floor as I ventured through the foyer toward a large rectangle receptionist desk.
A young woman about my age, with brown, curly hair, wearing a white blazer and a black dress sat at the desk. She lifted her eyes as I approached, prompting her to rise to her feet. "Ms. Thatcher?"
"That's me. You must be Margaret." I gave her a polite nod, my fingers fidgeting with the handle on my bag.
"Please, follow me." Margaret stepped out from behind her desk and waved her hand for me to follow. We walked down a wide hallway, passing by other wooden doors with frosted glass panels in the center until she stopped in front of the last door on the left. "You may go inside."
Wow, so formal.
"Thank you." I nodded, straightened my shoulders, and smoothed down my clothes before opening the door and poking my head inside, my heart racing.
Mayor Haynes stood a shade under six feet, stocky as a butcher’s block, with a face that gleamed from a razor’s recent scrape. His usual uniform—a white collared shirt tucked under one of his bright, borderline obnoxious sweaters and a pair of khakis that always seemed a size too snug—made him look like a man perpetually auditioning for a local catalog. But today, the sweater was red. Not just any red, though—an alarming stop-sign red that seemed to shout from across the room.
"Ms. Thatcher." Mayor Haynes leaned over his desk, sunlight streaming in through the wide window beside him.
My eyes slid over his office like a cat stalking prey, taking in every inch. To the left, a bookshelf stuffed with history books and nonfiction titles, arranged with the kind of care that screamed presentation over use. To the right, a spaced lounge area in the corner, featuring a leather chair and a coffee table that had seen a high dollar price tag. Behind the desk, two filing cabinets stood sentinel next to a Francis Grant painting of men on horses.
I squinted as I stared at the painting, its gold frame hanging away from the wall as if...
A safe.
He has a wall safe behind it?
"Mayor Haynes." I tore my gaze from it with a vote of triumph under my exterior. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me." I leaned forward with my hand outstretched.
"Well, you were quite persistent." Mayor Haynes peered at my hand for a moment before shaking it and then gesturing to the cushioned seat next to me. "Hard to deny someone with that amount of dedication."
I chuckled. "Curse of the trade, I'm afraid." I sat down on the edge of the seat, my thighs tense as I dug through my bag and placed my notepad in my lap with my pen. My recorder came next, and I placed it on the desk, turning it on. "I hope you don't mind me recording this?"
"Of course not." Mayor Haynes took a seat in his leather chair, leaned back, and rested his elbows on the armrests with joined hands. "You wanted to speak about the current drug raids in Riverfield."
"That's correct. Specifically drug raids where NeuraZene is involved."
" Hmm ." Mayor Haynes leaned forward and rested his hands on the surface of his desk, his eyes boring into mine. "How did you come across this?"
I paused for a few seconds, my tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth.
How do I word this...
"As you know, there have been several raids throughout the city targeting illegal drug operations," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I wanted to get your perspective on it." I wrote on my notepad and circled the word 'suspicious'. "Specifically, why do you believe NeuraZene is so prevalent here in Riverfield."
Mayor Haynes nodded. "Well, in my time as Mayor, I've seen many different concerning things come in and out of popularity, including in the drug market. With that said, we are aware of the concerns, and I can assure the citizens that the city is doing everything it can to keep our streets safe."
I stared at him in silence.
Is he being serious?
"Sir, I don't think that's the case here. I've never seen so much drug activity in Riverfield, and I was born here. I'm worried about our town."
A stiff smile crossed his face. "You've done a great service to us all by reporting the facts. People trust you. You shouldn't soil that trust by writing an inaccurate story. NeuraZene is not worth the trouble."
"It's not the drug necessarily, as it is the suspicious drug busts, sir." I crossed my leg over the other and pinned my back straight over my paper. "The raids have been unusually forceful, and some people are saying this isn’t about taking out local dealers— something bigger might be at play. Are you aware of any special task forces or outside groups involved?
"I can’t comment on every operational detail. You know this. But the city’s goal is to remove dangerous substances from our neighborhoods." Mayor Haynes' face twitched before relaxing back into a smooth smile. "And if that means working with outside agencies, then our police department isn't beyond that idea."
"So, is it safe to say the RPD has federal assistance in these cases?"
Why didn't he seem concerned?
It was as if our Mayor had become a regurgitating robot, and all of his answers were programmed in.
"That sounds like speculation , Ms. Thatcher. I recommend relying on verified information."
I frowned and circled the word 'DEA'. "So, to be clear, there may or may not be outside authorities influencing these raids or at least supporting them?"
The Mayor let out a dismissive huff and leaned back in his chair. "It’s not my place to detail every chain of command or every initiative. Let’s trust the process." Mayor Haynes rose to his feet, smoothing a hand down the front of his sweater. "Ms. Thatcher, for your safety and the well-being of the people, I urge you not to dig too deep into this issue. Your talents could be used on a different topic. A safer one."
A chill rattled between my shoulder blades as I got to my feet, weight pressing down on my shoulders. He grinned at me, his eyes glinting and dark.
"That feels almost like a... threat." I cocked my head to the side as I grabbed my recorder. "Clearly, that isn't your intention, is it, Mayor Haynes?"
"Quite the opposite." He tucked his hands into his pocket and rocked back on his heels. "I don't want people getting startled and causing an uproar over something that's already being dealt with."
"I think you underestimate the abilities of your people."
"Time after time, citizens show their true colors. If there’s even a whisper of danger, panic isn’t far behind." He walked around his desk and directed me to the door. "Remember the storms? How stores emptied out in hours? People are like spooked cattle—skittish, and ready to stampede at the slightest noise." His hand wrapped around the door handle. "So I'll reiterate. Find another story. This one is being handled by people more capable than you or I."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for your time, Mayor Haynes." I stuck out my hand and shook his, my eyes darting back to the partially opened wall safe.
"Have a good day. Stay out of trouble, Ms. Thatcher."
I held in a laugh and turned out of his office with my chin lifted, but my spirits in the utter tank. Switching off my recorder, I tucked it into my pocket, walked down the hall, and exited the building.
Taking in a deep breath, I walked down the sidewalk in a trance, my thoughts bustling like the main street before me. I paused at the street and pressed the crosswalk button, waiting for the light to turn, my brows furrowed with thought.
The Mayor all but confirmed an agency was involved, his hesitancy was proof enough, the backtracking the icing.
So which agency was it?
And why did they get involved?
The crosswalk dinged, and I hustled across as it counted down, my eye catching a familiar figure, leaning against the brick wall, his head tipped down to his phone.
I raised a brow and crept up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. "Nate? What are you doing here?"