Exposé

7. Ava

7

Ava

I slugged my tired body out of The Riverfield Chronicle office building, my eyelids sliding shut as though someone had glued weights to my lashes.

Aria walked along beside me, her bag slung over her narrow shoulders.

"Planning on doing anything this weekend?"

I shook my head. "Maybe get some sleep? I have the FOIA to follow up on, and maybe a pizza and a movie."

"Sounds like a lonely blast. Mind if I join?" She looped her arm in mine, our heels clicking on the stained cement.

"Henry won't mind?"

She shrugged as we paused at her car. "He knows I have my own life, too." A sigh broke free, her shoulders falling down. "He's clingy right now, so I'm trying to stay away from it until he simmers down."

"Need a place to stay?"

I thought they were perfect?

"No, no. Nothing like that." She chortled, shaking her head. "I'm avoiding him for a bit. You know, like doing some longer days."

"Understood." I winked and parted from her hold. Walking to my car beside her, I opened the door and dropped my gear inside. "You know I have a lumpy couch if ever you need it."

"Thanks. I'll see ya later."

We slipped into our cars, and she drove away as I checked and rechecked my email.

If Aria had problems in her relationship, then we were all doomed.

They'd been together since high school and all through college. She'd postponed a wedding for God only knows why, and he'd stuck by her side through her hesitation.

Henry was smitten, and there was no changing his mind.

Shaking my head, I tossed my phone into the seat beside me, started up my car, and drove home, the FOIA on my mind and Whitney's scowl as motivation.

Parking, I gathered my things, per my boring routine, and meandered up the steps towards my apartment, stopping and grabbing my mail.

I hit the top step, my feet shuffling against the cement, then paused as I came eye-level with the floor above.

"What the…"

A white envelope sat tucked under the welcome mat, the quarter end of it peeking out as though it didn't belong.

I took the last remaining steps as I looked around for anyone lingering.

Did the landlord leave this?

My rent was paid…

Did this have to do with my car alarm?

Blowing out an exhaustive breath, I dragged the envelope out from under the doormat and stood, my hair flying into my face.

I flipped the sealed envelope around.

No name.

No address.

Tucking the envelope under my arm with the rest of my mail, I dug my keys out of my pocket.

The tip of my key touched the lock when I froze, then took a hesitant step back.

No.

My heart rate spiked, and nausea settled in my gut as I took another step, my gaze focused on the doorknob limp against the door, the metal pieces around the base, dented and scraped as though it'd been opened with force.

Thump.

I took the stairs down, my knees shaking as I glanced up to the second level, my hand digging my phone out of my bag. My feet hit the bottom step as I tapped on Liam's face in my contacts, then pressed it to my ear, backing away from the building as I stared at my balcony.

"Ava, what's up."

"Are you still working?"

"Yeah, is something wrong? You sound out of breath."

"I think someone's in my apartment." I gulped and pressed a hand to my forehead, swiping the cold sweat beading on my brow.

"Okay. Okay. Are you somewhere safe?"

"Yes. I'm out front."

"Good. Stay there. Don't go inside. I'm on my way. Did you call dispatch?"

"No."

"I'm ten minutes away. Don't. Move."

"Got it."

The call ended, and I rushed towards my car, locking myself inside.

My gaze stayed glued on the building entrance as I picked at my cuticle with a shaking hand until the police cruiser sped into the parking lot, stopping next to the walkway.

Liam stepped out with Officer Beaumont, a long-time beat cop I'd met a handful of times, sending my heart into a flutter, my muscles quivering.

Dashing out of my car, I met him on the sidewalk, his brows high as I cleared my throat. "Liam. I'm sorry to bother—"

"You did the right thing. Stay here."

I nodded, swallowing a thick knot in my throat as they made their way up the two stories, their hands on their holstered pistols.

Biting my nail, I paced, my other hand scratching at my skin. Nausea rolled in my belly, my skin slick.

What if someone's in there?

What if something happens to Liam… it'll be my fault.

What did they take?

What if they've stolen everythi—

Liam and Officer Beaumont's feet hit the top steps leading down to the walkway, interrupting my anxiety-driven thoughts.

He cleared it already?

Did they find anyone?

I rushed forward, my heels clomping as I met him at the bottom step. "Well? How bad is the damage?"

He shook his head with a shrug. "Nothing looks out of place aside from the doorknob."

What…

I frowned."Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah, everything is in its place, but someone definitely broke in." He blew out a long sigh and led me away from Officer Beaumont. "You’ve pissed someone off in record time with this new story, Ava." He drew in close, keeping his voice low. “Do you know who?”

"No. I mean, I spoke to one guy who hated reporters, but I didn't think he'd do anything. He didn't even know the story I was working on."

"What's his name?"

I shook my head. "It's not necessary. Like I said, he didn't even know what I was working on. He wouldn't let me get a word in to tell him."

"Just in case, Ava. Put it on the record."

I puffed out my cheeks and released my breath as I glanced back at Officer Beaumont who waited by his cruiser.

"Okay. Fair point. His name is Carson Givens. Goes by the name—"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know who he is. We've had a few run-ins with him."

"Is he dangerous?"

He shook his head. "Nothing aggravated, but he didn't run with a good crowd. Supposedly, he hasn't been picked up in a year or so."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Could be, but most of the time, it's not because they've met Jesus. They've gotten good at skimming under the radar."

I crossed my arms over my chest, my cuticle and nail unable to take any more abuse. "Great. But I really don't think it's him."

"What about your doorknob? Do you want me to fix it? I've got some time."

I shook my head. "No. You've already helped me enough. And I have to let the office know about it. I'm sure they'll have the maintenance guy come replace it."

His dimpled smile filled my mind, and I brushed it away.

"Alright, but if they can't fix it tonight, let me know. You can stay at my place."

I gave him a soft smile. "Thanks, Liam. I appreciate it."

"Anytime. You know I'm here for you."

Nodding, we walked back to the cruiser Officer Beaumont leaned against, his phone in hand, laughing at his screen.

"Did you hear they're holding Oktoberfest in Crafton Park again this year?"

"Oh yeah. I heard about that." I cracked my knuckle as I squeezed my finger tight.

"Supposedly, it's going to be even better this year with a new German rock band and vendors. Want to check it out together?"

"I don't know..."

"But you never miss it."

"I'm really busy this year—"

"Right, right. You're a busy bee."

"All finished up?" Officer Beaumont righted himself as we drew closer and tucked his phone into his pocket.

"All's good. Thanks for showing up."

Officer Beaumont winced as he leaned his head to the side and grabbed his mic on his shoulder. "Copy that, 32443 in route." He released his mic and gestured to Liam, who opened the passenger door.

“You’re doing house calls now? I thought detectives didn’t do that stuff.”

“We were out for dinner. But it looks like I’m tagging along on this one.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a key. "I've got to go. Please don't stay if they can't fix it tonight. Here's the key to my place. Just in case."

"Thanks, Liam."

He nodded and slipped inside, the lights blazing before driving off.

"Damn it." I sighed as I raked my fingers through my hair and made my way to the second floor.

I stared at the broken lock, then stepped inside, hesitation eating at my insides.

Shutting the door behind me, I dropped the laptop bag onto the couch.

The front door creaked open as if a specter moved it. I sighed, snagged the card Nate gave me off the refrigerator door, and called his number.

My chest tightened with each ring.

Come on. Pick up.

Pick. Up.

"Hello?"

Nate's graveled voice filtered through the phone, turning my knees to jelly.

I sat at the table and faced the doorway. "Nate?"

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"Ava. I'm the girl you met—"

"Oh yeah, I know who you are. What's going on?"

I placed my shaking hand on the table and stared at the gaping door. "I know it's late. I'm sorry, but someone broke my doorknob, and I—"

"Say less. I'll be there in fifteen."

"Really?" I let out a heavy breath and smiled.

"Yeah. Let me find a new doorknob in this mess of a supply closet, and I'll be there."

"I really appreciate it."

"See you soon."

Sweat slicked my skin, my eyes roaming over my studio apartment, landing on my laptop bag and the white envelope sticking out with the other mail.

I jumped up and snagged it out of the side pocket, then tore it open with my index finger.

A single piece of printer paper sat inside, folded in three with two words typed out.

Kane Rogers.

My hand flew over my mouth, my head jerking up as I walked to the window and surveyed the grass below.

He was here.

My anonymous source was at my apartment.

Did they break in?

But why?

My stomach churned, and my skin crawled with tiny pinpricks as though their eyes had swiped across my flesh, leaving a trail of slime in its wake.

I need to change.

The violation left a film of disease within me, its smoky black tendrils tainting everything around me.

Who's Kane Rogers, and what the hell am I supposed to do with this?

I dropped the letter onto the table and moved to the bathroom. Picking out a long t-shirt with Tweety Bird plastered from top to bottom, I tossed it onto the counter and dug through my drawer for loose shorts.

Knock. Knock.

"Ava?"

Slamming the drawer closed, I darted out of the bathroom.

Nate stood at the threshold, the door cracked part way as he peered inside.

Flutters hit my chest, my breath catching in my lungs. "Hey," I breathed out. "Come in. Please."

The door widened, and he moved through it, his large hand trapping the edges in his grip.

My teeth bit into my lip as I stared at his tattooed-covered arms, his taut shirt around his biceps, the material loose around the waist.

"Ava?"

I shook my head. "What? Sorry, did you say something?"

His dimples on each cheek deepened. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing hard, I nodded. "Yep." I let loose a forced chortle. "Oh yeah, just stress and all. You know how it is."

"How did this happen?" He gestured towards the door, a frown on his brow.

I stepped over to him. " Um , I'm not sure. I came home, and it was that way." My shoulders bounced as I frowned. "The police said everything was fine, but I needed to get this fixed before I could stay."

"Someone did a number on it."

"Yeah, they must have been disappointed when they got in…there's nothing of value here."

Nate raised a brow. "I don't know about that."

My stomach lifted as though I'd dropped on a rollercoaster, sending my heart into a fluttering mess. " Heh." I braced my hand against the table. "Right."

"Sorry, was that out of line?"

Yes…

"Not at all." I shook my head and avoided eye contact as I snagged my laptop off the couch.

Find a distraction, Ava.

"It won't take me long to finish this up, and then I'll be outta your hair."

My chest tightened as I sat at the table, my lips pressed as I offered a false smile. "I mean, no need to hurry. I'll just get some work done."

"What is it that you do?" Nate bent down beside the door, his tool bag beside him as he fiddled with the remnants of a working handle.

"I'm an investigative journalist."

" Hmm . I've never met one of those before."

"We aren't that interesting and keep to ourselves mostly." I pulled up the LexisNexis website and typed in Kane Rogers, then groaned as the abundant search results littered my screen.

"Not good news?"

Nate sat on his heels, his thighs stretching out his black cargo pants as he kneeled, his hands moving over the hole gaping in my door.

"No, just time-consuming." I braced my elbow on the table and crossed my legs, then rested my chin in my palm.

"Anything I can do to help?"

I squinted at my screen, slouching down behind it as my cheeks heated, my gaze lifting to his. "Not unless you can find a needle in a haystack."

The corners of his mouth lift into a charming smile. "I'm a killer at the crossword." He tightened the last screw on the door handle as we laughed. "Is there anything else I can fix while I'm here?"

Nate stood, his eyes meeting mine, sending a wave of ease through me. My shoulders dropped, and I leaned back in my seat, my hand falling into my lap. "I mean, there's the sink in the bathroom." I gestured behind me. "But that doesn't need to be done right away."

He wiped his hands on a cloth from his bag and glanced behind me. "I'll take a look. But, while I do that…" He reached into his bag and pulled out a set of dangling keys. "Why don't you check out the lock and make sure it's working."

"Are you sure you don’t mind?" I stood and reached for them as he drew closer.

My fingertips grazed the cool metal, and then he pulled the keys out of reach.

"Yeah, but on one condition."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what's that?"

His dimples deepened as he stepped closer, his body heat seeping into my skin. "Have coffee with me tomorrow morning."

"Coffee?" I tipped my head to the side, a slight smile growing on my lips. "What if I don't like coffee?"

He glanced towards the kitchen, where my three coffee mugs hung from the cabinets beside the coffee pot, and then back at me with a playful smile. "Then we'll find something you do like. How about breakfast? My treat."

My lips parted as his bicep flexed, moving the ' I got your six' tattoo inked on the inside of his upper arm with the number ' 22' inside the American flag where stars should be.

Prior military?

What does '22' mean?

I pinned the thought and reached a little higher, bringing me closer to his chest. "Okay. Breakfast sounds good."

Nerve endings tingled in my fingertips as they brushed his forearm, my stomach taking a trip on a merry-go-round.

He lowered his hand and placed the keys in mine. "Great. It's a date, then." With a lopsided smile, he skirted around me, his bag in hand, and into the bathroom. "I'll have this fixed up in no time."

I just agreed to a date…

I haven't had a date in forever.

The persistent rhythm in my chest turned chaotic as I rolled my lips and pressed them between my teeth.

Taking my new keys, I stuck them in the door, twisted the lock, and tried the doorknob. "It works."

Nate popped his head out of the bathroom, our roles reversed from when he'd first come in. "Great. I'm almost done here."

"Already?"

"Not ready to get rid of me yet?" He ducked his head back into the bathroom. "Love the Tweety Bird shirt, by the way. He was my favorite when I was a kid. Nobody better lay a finger on my puddy tat."

A burst of laughter escaped in a high-pitched revolt. "I think you did Bart Simpson in the Butterfinger commercial with a Tweety accent."

"Are you sure?" His laughter filtered out of the bathroom and hit me in the groan, my belly contracting as I leaned against the two-seater table.

"Positive. My mom used to quote that all the time when I'd touch her stuff." I paused, her memory drawing a heaviness into my chest. "He said, I tawt I taw a puddy tat."

"That was a good impression. Go on."

I laughed harder, shaking my head as my cheeks flushed. "Oh God no. That's all you're gonna get outta me."

The water turned on in the bathroom without an awful squeak, then shut off. Nate stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on the rag. "For now, right?" He tipped his head to the side with his panty-melting smile. "I mean, I did fix the sink for you."

"And you're going to pay me in breakfast, remember?"

He chortled, and I flipped my hair off my shoulders.

God, those dimples.

"Okay, okay." He dipped back into the bathroom and, a few seconds later, walked out with his bag in hand. "You know that Mom and Pop diner near the coffee joint we bumped into each other at?"

I nodded. "Deeno's?"

He snapped his fingers and grinned. "That's the one. Meet me there tomorrow at nine unless you want me to pick you up?"

Heat swirled in my belly and warmed my cheeks. "I can walk. Maybe next time."

"Next time…already?" Nate bit his lower lip, his eyes hooded as he glanced at me, his index finger rubbing his chin. "I like the sound of that."

My feet itched to move closer, to rub my palm against the coarse hairs along his jaw and lean into his strong muscles. Yet I didn't budge, my hand braced on the table.

His gaze darted down to my screen. "Is Kane Rogers your needle in a haystack?"

I sobered and pressed my computer lid closed as I cleared my throat. "You shouldn't have seen that."

"Sorry.” He shrugged. “I'm naturally curious."

"It was my fault. I'm not used to people being in my apartment."

He gave a slight nod. "I'll get out of your way so you can work."

"No, that's not—"

"I know it wasn't." He moved around me, his arm brushed against my shoulder, leaving me with the musky scent of his cologne in his wake. "It's getting late, and I need my beauty sleep for this amazing date I have in the morning."

I let out a sarcastic huff. "Don't get your hopes up, buddy. I'm sure she's boring."

"I don't know about that." He placed his hand on the door. "She seems pretty amazing so far."

Fuck. I'm doomed.

"Lock this door." He shot me his signature smile and then pointed at me. "And don't forget tomorrow, I'd hate to have to retract my statement."

"I won't forget."

He winked and then shut the door behind him.

My feet worked a little dance as I spun in circles, my arms moving up and down. I squealed, my fists clenched tight, then moved towards the door and locked it.

Aria's never going to believe this.