Chapter Sixteen #2
Where Gav had a sexy academic air to him and Leo had that lovable bear quality, Zeno had a sort of party-hard rock-and-roll vibe to him.
His dark hair was bed-messy and he had nothing on but an almost scandalously low-slung pair of cute ghost-printed pajama pants.
Tattoos snaked across his skin. His nails were painted black.
There was a piercing in his brow, and when he opened his mouth to speak, there was another piercing in his tongue.
Unlike Gav’s dark blue eyes and Leo’s medium-brown, Zeno had dark brown eyes with the kind of thick lashes I could only dream of.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Nugget,” he greeted me, making me snort.
“Did you tell him that?” I asked, glaring at Gav’s profile.
“No.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Then how… oh.” I looked between the two men, seeing matching guilt on both their handsome faces. “You had him look into me.”
“You handcuffed me to a chair,” Gav reminded me.
“I, for one, would not have complained about that,” Zeno said, charm oozing from every pore. “You could have had me barking like a dog if you wanted.”
Gav rolled his eyes and took a step inward. “We have a phone and bank accounts to get more information about.”
“Sure, sure. Come in. Do I smell a PSL?” he asked, sniffing the air.
Gav’s eyes closed and he shook his head in complete defeat at his brother not only knowing what a pumpkin spice latte smelled like, but the acronym to call it by.
“It’s the best time of year,” I told him, waving my mostly-empty cup.
“Wow,” Gav said, turning back to look at his brother. “What the fuck happened in here?”
Glancing around Zeno, all I saw was a tidy apartment dominated by a huge workstation full of monitors and keyboards and one of those fancy see-through things where you could see the computer’s guts.
“What? It’s clean,” Zeno said, moving inside so I could step in as well.
“Yeah, that’s the problem. There’s usually forty-seven mugs in the sink, overflowing trash cans, and questionable smells coming from the fridge.”
To that, Zeno shrugged as he made his way to his desk chair. “Let’s have that phone.”
Gav wandered around Zeno’s apartment, apparently mystified by the cleanliness, making me think he wasn’t exactly exaggerating about the mess he was accustomed to seeing.
When he reached to get mugs down after he made a pot of coffee and I saw Zeno’s enormous mug collection, yeah, I had my confirmation.
“Anything?” Gav asked as he set down a mug by his brother’s hand.
“Nugget was right. Her old man isn’t one for texting or calling. But I’ve got a deleted note I uncovered that might give you… something.”
“What is it?”Gav asked.
“An address. To some little house in Jersey.”
“And? Got anything else on that?”
“Working,” Zeno said, typing, then clicking around for a few minutes. “Huh. Yeah. I got something.”
“What is it? A rehab, maybe?”
“What? No. No, it’s a house. A house her dad bought, in cash, three years ago.”
“What? No. No, that’s not possible,” I said, jumping out of my chair so fast that it teetered before Gav reached out to right it.
“He didn’t have a house. He’s never had a house.
Not since my mom died. And even if he did have a house, he had no reason to keep it from me.
None of this makes sense. You’re wrong.”
“Hey,” Gav said, reaching to take the cup from my hand, then set it down.
He grabbed each of my upper arms, fingers squeezing.
“Look. I know all this shit with your dad has been a real mindfuck. But anything we can find to go on is a good thing. Otherwise, we’re stuck.
Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe Zeno is wrong.
But maybe it’s something that might point us in a direction, right? ”
I took a few deep breaths, trying to tamp down my growing panic about the mounting evidence that my father wasn’t who he claimed to be, wasn’t who I’d always believed he was.
Because the father I knew didn’t work for the mob.
He didn’t have any potential debts or illnesses he didn’t share with me.
He damn sure didn’t own a house for years without telling me.
A house where we could have spent holidays or seen each other more.
A house right over in Jersey. Just an hour or two away.
Clearly, I was still viewing my father through the lens of a little girl who hero-worshipped her only surviving relative.
But real people were just that… real. With secrets and problems and baggage that they didn’t want to share with everyone.
I mean, I certainly wasn’t always completely honest with him. I kept fears and anxiety and dissatisfaction and even whole relationships from him.
Did it hurt to realize that my father had this whole life outside of me? Yeah. But I guess that was something I should have considered a long time ago.
“Okay,” I said, sucking in another deep breath.
“Okay?”
“Yep,” I agreed. “You’re right. Anything to go on is good. We can at least… go there. See if there is any other information to find.”
“Exactly. Can we have that address?” he called to his brother. “And I’m gonna borrow a lock pick set.”
He said it so casually. As if it was a completely normal thing to borrow. Like an umbrella or charger.
“You know how to pick locks?”
“I had a backup plan in case you ever tightened those cuffs on me.”
My belly fluttered at the look he shot me then, but Zeno’s voice cut into the moment.
“So, your dad’s bank account. What passwords are we trying? We’re gonna max out at three, so make them good guesses.”
He got in on my second guess to reveal a healthy, even sizable, savings. And that was after buying a house outright a few years back.
But there were no recent transactions after he bought food at a restaurant not far from where his tractor was found.
“Thanks for this, Zeno. Really,” I said once we had an address and the lock pick set.
“Anytime,” he said. “Hopefully I’ll see you around at family dinner sometime.”
With that, we grabbed the umbrella and made our way out into the hallway in silence.
It was on the first landing of the stairwell that Gav dropped the umbrella, grabbed the back of my head, and slammed me back into the wall as his lips crashed to mine.
Sensation shot through my body, lighting up every nerve ending at once as the kiss demanded, as my body begged, as Gav’s free hand started to roam: over my shoulder, down to my breast, dragging a muffled moan out of me before continuing down over my belly, my ribs, my hip, thigh.
Then moving up under the fabric of my skirt.
“Gav,” I whispered, breaking the kiss as his fingers teased the outline of my panties where they met my leg. “What if someone starts up the stairs?”
His eyes blazed as his hand slid under my panties, his thumb going to my clit, and two fingers sliding inside me.
“Then you’d better come fast.”
His lips silenced my moan as his fingers began to work me.
There was nothing slow or explorative. He worked me with expert precision—his thumb circling around my clit with the exact right amount of pressure, his fingers thrusting then curling and stroking—until I was writhing and whimpering and teetering right on the edge.
Then he sent me shooting over, swallowing my cries as I came.
I was still using the wall for support when the door at the ground level slammed shut, making my heart leap.
Gav pulled back, his gaze on me as he lazily slid his fingers out of my panties… and into his mouth.
I damn near came again just from that.
But then the footsteps drew closer and Gav stepped back to allow a woman carrying some sort of caddy to make her way past us.
“Okay,” Gav said once she was gone. “So I guess the question now is, what is going to make you less anxious: taking the train, the ferry, or driving your car over the bridge again?”