17. Naz
SEVENTEEN
NAZ
Just as my phone buzzes, likely Lawrence calling to check on me because it’s been well over ten minutes, a door creaks.
At first, I tense up, thinking that Blake or Emmy is about to come in here and try to make me feel better or tell me to go with my new babysitter, but there’s nothing.
No footsteps, no sounds of conversation. Just silence.
I glance around the open conference room door, looking first at the hallway I was supposed to exit through to see if Lawrence has come to retrieve me. Movement to my left gets my attention.
Scott?
At first my heart does this stupid skip-double-beat in my chest, my breath catching with something almost like relief that he’s still here. Something feels off, though.
He’s moving with deliberate purpose, shoulders squared, steps light, looking around his surroundings cautiously.
I pull back before he spots me, wait for two breaths, then chance looking again.
Scott has his back to me now, carefully turning the handle to Blake’s office and peeking in before he slips inside and quietly pulls the door almost closed behind him.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the door he barely left ajar, wondering what the fuck just happened. Maybe Blake called him back in? Or maybe he came back to finish the conversation?
But if he was going back to confront Blake, why did it seem like he was trying to be sneaky?
Curiosity gets the best of me before common sense has a chance to intervene. Keeping my footsteps light against the carpet the way Scott did, I step into the hallway and quietly make my way to Blake’s office.
Through the slight gap in the door, I can’t see Blake or Emmy.
The lights are on, and I’m sure I saw Emmy’s things on his desk just outside the door.
They were in here, I know they were. Surely if I heard Scott sneaking around the office like the Pink Panther, I would have noticed two people, one of whom is a chatterbox, leaving.
The only person I see, though, is Scott.
Scott, who crosses the room directly to Blake’s desk, his eyes roaming purposefully over the clutter on our manager’s usually very clean and organized workspace.
Scott, who closes Blake’s laptop before picking it up and slipping it inside a black backpack slung over one shoulder.
I stumble backwards, my mind racing. What the actual fuck is going on here?
Pressing my back to the wall, I take several slow, measured breaths and try to process what I just saw. Is Scott really stealing from Blake? What could he possibly need his laptop for? Why would he do this?
Unless…
The texts. All of his secrets.
I refuse to believe Scott would do anything to hurt me for his own gain. But what if they got to him? What if they threatened him or someone he loves?
Before I can stop myself, I’m pushing the office door open.
“Scott?”
There’s no answer, and the room is empty. I take two cautious steps inside, my eyes sweeping the room. Blake’s laptop is gone, so I didn’t hallucinate Scott taking it. I search the room again, eyes lower, but there’s nowhere a grown man the size of Scott Riley could hide.
There’s a light on in the bathroom, a shadow moving in front of it. I take another slow step inside the office, closer to the bathroom.
A sudden awareness of a presence behind me sends a chill up my spine. Before I can swing around to face them, a heavy arm wraps around my chest. At the same time, a broad hand clamps firmly over my mouth before I can make a sound.
Every instinct screams at me to fight, but the large body pressing me against his chest is familiar.
“Easy,” Scott breathes against my ear. “It’s just me.”
His grip loosens just enough to let me breathe.
“It’s just me,” he repeats again before slowly removing his hand from my mouth and turning me to face him.
Scott holds up a finger to his lips, then points to the bathroom door. Clearly, someone is in there. After another few long moments of silence, I hear a muffled murmur. It’s almost too low to make out, but I think I hear, “Emerson, now really isn’t the—” followed by a slightly more audible moan.
If the situation at hand wasn’t so dire, I might laugh. Instead, I’m baffled and terrified at what might be happening here.
My eyes move to Scott again, surprised to find him calm and not looking at all guilty. Does he know I saw him steal Blake’s laptop?
Pointing to the backpack I know he stowed it in, I gesture for him to explain. “You’re stealing?”
“I know this looks bad, but I need you to trust me.” He looks back at the bathroom door quickly before pinning me with a severe expression. “I promise I will explain later. Right now, I have to go.”
“Wait! Scott!” I whisper-shout, jumping when I hear a soft thud from the bathroom.
“I can’t, Naz. I have to get out of here.”
Scott backs away from me, looking around the room almost frantically now.
His eyes lock on Blake’s suit jacket, discarded on the edge of a leather sofa against the wall near the bathroom.
Quickly making his way over to it, he unpins Blake’s security badge from the front pocket and tosses the jacket back.
“I’m sorry,” he mouths as he backs out of the room before spinning on his heel and walking swiftly away.
Not waiting for anyone to come out of that bathroom and catch either of us at the scene of the crime, I chase after Scott.
Following him into the stairwell, I continue to whisper-shout his name, repeatedly asking him where he’s going between heavy panting and rapid footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.
Finally, after nine flights of stairs, I finally get his attention just before he opens the door that leads into the lobby.
“Scott, please—I thought you’d left me!”
Scott jerks to a stop and spins to face me, reaching out an arm to pull me to him. His lips crash against mine in a fierce kiss, his arm crushing me to his chest and lifting me off the ground.
“I would never willingly leave you. You know that, right?” His eyes search mine imploringly as he sets me down again.
“Then take me with you. Whatever you’re doing, wherever you’re going, take me.”
Scott tries to back away, but I grab his shirt and pull him back. “It’s not safe, Naz. What if something happens to you?”
“What if something happens to you?!” I snap incredulously, my shrill voice echoes in the stairwell. Tightening my fingers in his shirt, I yank him closer so we’re chest to chest. “I can take care of myself. But you’ll be there, too. You’ll keep me safe, right?”
Amber eyes burn into mine. “Always. Never forget it.”
“It’s settled then,” I say, releasing his shirt and taking his hand, lacing our fingers together tightly.
Scott sighs and takes my mouth once more in a quick, harsh kiss. “Okay, let’s go,” he huffs before pushing open the door.
He pulls me behind him as he makes a beeline for the front door. The lobby is mostly empty, except for Lawrence, who straightens from where he was leaning against the reception counter.
“Hey!” He shouts. “What the hell? Where are you–”
There’s a crackle of a walkie-talkie, then somewhere deeper in the building, shouts and the sound of multiple footsteps running.
Eyes wide, Lawrence pushes off the counter and races after us. “Stop right there!”
Neither of us look back, but Scott’s hand tightens around mine as we slam through the doors and out into the crowded city walkway.
Several people curse or shout at us as we weave between pedestrians, sprinting as hard as we can.
When I’m able, I chance a look over my shoulder and see Lawrence with a phone pressed to his ear, a small group of security guards standing nearby, searching the crowd for a sign of us.
Lawrence’s eyes lock on mine just before he turns and goes back into the building.
We keep running for another two blocks, then take a left and keep going until we can flag a car down.
Scott gives the driver a cross street somewhere in Midtown, then settles back against the seat beside me.
The partition is down, the everyday sounds of traffic and the hum of tires over rain-slick pavement filling the silence as the lights and structures of the concrete jungle blur together.
Neither of us looks at the other or says anything for a long time. I’m still trying to make sense of what’s happening, fitting the Scott I know with the person I’m currently helping to commit a crime. Beside me, he bounces one knee nervously as he stares out the window.
I open my mouth to speak, to say what, I don’t know. I don’t get a chance to say anything before I’m cut off by Scott’s phone buzzing. He startles and fumbles to get the phone out of his pocket, eyes flicking over the screen. His brow furrows before he curses under his breath.
“What?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer.
Instead he leans in to the driver, holding up his phone screen to show he paid more than the expected fare. “Can you let us out at the next intersection instead?”
The driver shrugs. “Sure thing, boss.”
He makes a lane change. The car barely rolls to a stop before Scott is pushing his door open and pulling me out behind him. Once I’m safely deposited on the wet sidewalk, he pulls the black ball cap from his head and settles it onto mine, tugging the brim lower until it shadows my face.
“There,” he says softly, reaching for my hand again.
“Scott…”
“Come on.”
Scott leads me to a subway entrance tucked between a deli and souvenir shop, the familiar green globe lamps marking the stairs descending beneath the city.
The noise of Manhattan fades with every step underground, replaced by the rumble of trains below and the echo of thousands of hurried footsteps bouncing off dingy white tile walls.
Scott stops at a row of turnstiles, tapping his phone against a terminal set up for payment. He gestures for me to go through first before tapping again for himself. Beyond the turnstiles, we follow overhead signs until we reach the downtown platform.
People are everywhere. Businessmen with briefcases speaking into their Bluetooth earpieces. Tourists clutching shopping bags. Students of all ages wearing backpacks.
It’s been years since I took the subway.
When the band first got signed and we spent our first weeks in the city, it felt like a theme park ride.
The novelty of it, and of the rush of the city itself, hasn’t worn off.
At first, I feel overly conscious of hiding my face, but nobody pays us any attention.
Everyone seems too busy with their own lives and destinations to notice just another guy.
No one.
A gust of stale air rushes through the tunnel a moment before the train arrives, brakes screeching against steel rails. The doors slide open, and everyone surges forward as one. Scott keeps one hand wrapped around mine as we flow with the crowd inside.
It’s a pretty busy car. We don’t bother looking for seats.
Instead, Scott guides me to the back, into a corner close to the connecting doors between cars.
He positions himself in front of me, so I’m mostly hidden from view and blocked from being jostled.
One arm braced against the wall over my shoulder as strangers crowd in around us, pressing his body into mine.
I can’t say I mind, though not even his proximity can distract me from my desperation to know what is happening.
Scott meets my eyes, reading my need clear as day. He tilts the brim of my hat back and bends his head down so his mouth is practically touching my ear, sending involuntary goosebumps down my body.
“I know you have questions,” he says, quietly enough that only I can hear. “But for now, I just need you to follow my instructions and go with it, okay?”
I study his face. Whatever he’s doing, I’ve never seen him like this. This man ran straight into a mob towards a man with a knife without hesitation. But right now… he’s worried. Scared even.
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding. His shoulders visibly relax.
“I promise I’ll tell you everything later.” The corner of his mouth twitches into something that almost resembles his usual smirk. “And I’ll spend the rest of the night making it up to you.”
“Oh really?”
A real smile spreads over his lips. It’s full of promise that makes my heart beat harder and my pants tighten. “Oh baby, I’ll get down on all fours and bark like a dog if that’s what it takes.”
The fire in his eyes is a spark of relief to my senses. A small flare of normalcy. Reassurance that we can get back to whatever we are. That’s a future Naz problem.
“I’ll hold you to that.”