Chapter 37
Nala existed in a dark, conspicuous cloud that loomed over her head for the next week. Her life was silence. Wake up. Work. Change hotels. Dinner. Sex. Sleep.
Nothing stood out. Everything refused to leave her alone.
The haze Nala found herself in was unlike anything she ever experienced before – worse than the fog of grief she had swam in twice in her short life.
Grief made sense. Everyone experienced grief.
There were even stages to track one’s progress.
Were there stages to figure out when Nala was done being so angry?
She was used to the kind of anger that manifested itself in fits, tears, and finally, stone-cold acceptance as one fell asleep in the hopes of waking up refreshed.
This wasn’t normal anger. This was poison brewing in her body.
She was in so much shock from the photo, that her mind both rejected it and chewed it over, tasting every bitter, rotten morsel ten times over.
One day she woke up and it was Thursday, and she had no idea how she had arrived there from Monday.
The only thing that could have spared her from this ill fate was Varen, but she was in her own toxic world, and they enabled one another until the only words they exchanged had to do with hotel locations and what to order for dinner.
I’m fucked up. She’s fucked up. This manifested every night when Varen emerged from her shower and took Nala wherever she waited – for by the second night, she recognized the pattern and appropriately prepared herself.
Sometimes she sat on the couch, watching nothing on TV, and the next thing she knew she was beneath Varen’s body, succumbing to the frenzy of intense, sudden sex.
Other times she flopped on the bed the moment she heard the shower turn off.
If she were really lucky, she walked through the door the moment Varen emerged from the shower and soon found herself on the bed, face deep in her girlfriend’s clean body.
Once, she sat at a table – until she was rather plastered against the table.
Like most sensations, these rounds of sex were a blur to Nala.
Yet they were a single ounce of escape. Whenever Varen wandered into the bathroom to take her shower, Nala became more alive than she had been in days.
Take me away from here. Make me forget. Unfortunately, the only words they said to each other during the act were grunts, moans, and the occasional wail if something was exceptionally memorable.
Until that week, Nala was still counting the number of times they had sex.
I only needed two hands to do it. By the end of that week, however, she no longer had any idea how many times Varen had touched her.
Sometimes she stood at work, trying to count when she should be counting tank tops and torn jeans instead.
Has it been ten times now? Or thirteen? Did the oral I give her last night count?
Of course it counts, duh. Okay, I’m still confused…
It was better than constantly wondering if an assassin was going to burst through the door and take her out, leaving her to die in a pile of donated jerseys.
In all her wondering, she didn’t stop to think of something crucial. Not until Friday night, when she and Varen stayed in a mid-tier hotel on the outskirts of Downtown.
Nala had craved something different. On her way there from work, she did the one thing Varen begged her not to and stopped at a third location by herself.
It’s important, okay? Nala bought the closest thing she could find to that intoxicating strap-on and vibrator combo, leaving it laid out on the bed while Varen was in the bathroom.
She emerged from her shower naked, as usual, and dragged Nala across the bed. Within minutes, she was between Nala’s legs with the strap-on, fucking her with the rawest power she could muster while Nala groaned in the ecstasy she was desperate to embrace.
She didn’t think of this crucial thing until she came, as she usually did, with Varen’s hands on her hips and animalistic growls echoing in her ears. Nala came down from her orgasm feeling less like a sex-starved demon and more like a forest animal in heat.
Varen rolled off her and stared at the ceiling, chest gradually stilling from heavy breaths. Her hand searched for Nala’s until their fingers clasped lightly together. Nala turned her head away and stared at the dark window overlooking the river.
“I want a gun.”
Varen’s eyes bored into the back of her head. “What?”
“A gun. Someone might be hunting me while we’re at work, you know. I think I should have some protection.”
“Have you ever used one before?”
Nala sighed. “Yeah. Back in Carson City. My ex was a hobbyist and I would go to the range with him sometimes.” She didn’t love it, but at least she had a head start.
After a moment’s consideration, Varen said. “I actually have one locked up back home. I’ll send someone to get it tomorrow.” Not the first time Varen had an assistant go into her loft and pick up a few things.
“Dumbass. What if I’m caught with your gun on me? We might get in trouble.”
“So then what?”
“So get me one of my own.”
Varen sat up on her arms. “I don’t know…”
“I’m only saying. I’m getting paranoid. Every time I look over my shoulder, I worry that someone’s following me.”
“You only thought to tell me about this now?”
“Excuse me for being in a shitty fog all week. I didn’t think about it until now. Other things have been on my mind.”
Varen slapped one hand on her face and groaned. “You will get my gun because I know how it works. I need stuff from the loft, anyway. Like my menstrual cup.”
“Oh, I’m sure Andrew would love getting that for you!”
Seriously? She couldn’t get a new one? Was her menstrual cup custom-made for every curve of her cunt?
To be fair, I could probably design one for her by now.
Nala was nowhere close to driving toward Fisting Town in the driver’s seat, but she had taken several tours of Varen’s G-spot.
Varen ignored her. “Your surprise reminds me that we need lube.”
“Since when?” They hadn’t used it before. They were always both plenty wet enough by the time someone got around to sitting on a dildo.
“Since I’ve started fantasizing about fucking your ass.”
Nala was only slightly scandalized. Please.
It was only a matter of time. Varen wouldn’t rest until she had taken every hole.
Including Nala’s left nostril, probably.
“Honestly, after tonight, I want a break. I love fucking you and all, but after this past week, I feel a bit used down there. Your game has been too strong, and I’m starting to feel it.”
She expected Varen to be testy with her, but instead, she heard the first lighthearted joke from her in a very, very long time. “I always knew I had it in me.”
“You’re an ass. I hope you know that.”
Varen’s arm wrapped her, followed by her strong, not-so-clean-anymore body folding around Nala’s in her usual protective embrace.
“We’ve got enough to worry about right now, darling.”
Shivers went through Nala like rapids through a river.
“Let’s focus on what we can control right now. We need to figure out what to do next.”
Yes, next. Nala looked in the direction of her backpack, wondering if she would ever have the courage to face – let alone talk about – that photo Maggie handed her.
When Varen finally had some time off that weekend, they formed a plan. This came shortly after hearing word that Robin was not only up and walking but slated to go home.
The police came to Varen’s office no fewer than three times, asking questions, subtly threatening to take her in, and finally leaving her alone as – even though Robin was left to die in her home – every path toward Varen being the primary suspect turned into a dead end.
They could not implicate Xan Ravenwood or even Hawk, whose real identity was as vague as Robin’s had been before she was admitted to a hospital.
Not only would he create his own dead ends, but it would put a bigger mark on Varen and Nala’s backs.
There were no more threats or attacks as of yet, but Varen didn’t know that Robin was merely a warning.
As long as they kept their heads down and stayed in line, Xan would not try to touch them. Yet.
Their plan was terrible, but it was all they could come up with: Varen was going to hire the best lawyer, even better than the one she usually had on retainer. This lawyer would hear their side of the story, dole out his professional advice, and well… they would go from there.
Nala laughed to hear it.
“That lawyer is going to tell you what you already know,” she said, draped across Varen on a couch.
“The only way to take Ravenwood down is to either wipe him out with our bare hands or have so much irrefutable evidence that doesn’t even make it into the hands of police. No way. We need to get evidence, make copies, and send it to the press… that preferably aren’t owned by him.
Does he own any media?”
“I think he has some stakes in a few newspapers. Not sure.”
Varen rubbed her chin. “What kind of evidence would we even get? Come on, Nala. We’ve already tried robbing his office, and nobody will tell us a damn thing. All we’ve got is that letter about a previous couple. That’s not enough. It’s conjecture.”
“I know. That’s why we’re going to get a confession out of him.”
“Excuse me?”
“The only evidence that would ever be strong enough is if he’s caught on camera committing a crime – which he would never be – or if we get him on tape confessing. I’ll do it, Varen. I’ll get to him about Tasha.”
“You’re talking crazy. Don’t.”
“It’s the only chance we have.”
“If we do go that route out of total desperation…”
“We will.”
“…Then it will have to be the most carefully planned thing in the universe.”
“I’m not saying let’s go bust down his door this weekend, but you know I’m right, Ven.”
She pulled Nala into her arms, lips nibbling her cheek. “You’re dangerous when you’re right.” When her hand went to Nala's breast, she was shrugged off. “Sorry.”
“I’m not ready for that yet.” Nala sat up on her side of the couch.
“Have I hurt you?”
“No.” She sighed. “It’s not only that. There are other things.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe a girl wants some tenderness once in a while.”
“To be fair, this past week has been a doozy for the both of us.”
“You don’t say.”
They curled up in bed later that night, Varen stroking her temple until Nala finally fell asleep against her.
Okay, good. Now give me some tenderness in the other kind of bed. Nala remembered the way Varen made love to her the night she cried in the car.
The fog slowly lifted. The haze dispersed. Soon, all Nala was left with was a healthy dose of fear, regret, and a huge pile of secrets she was keeping from Varen. They would have to be released soon.
Entry 17
Nightingale and I are doing what she calls “hotel hopping.”
Since I currently do not trust my own home, I have had no choice but to move us from hotel to hotel in the vain hope of keeping an assassin off our tails.
Although there has been no formal threat, finding a half-dead woman in one’s home will tick off the paranoia.
Nevertheless, Nightingale and I are not living the healthiest of lives. Something is ticking like an old and worn clock beneath everything we do. We are time bombs. Every day we come closer and closer to losing who we really are.
All I want to do is sink into her body and forget all the pain, all the worries plaguing me at every turn. Used to be I escaped into my work to forget my troubles. Now I want to escape into Nightingale, both literally and figuratively.
I didn’t think it was possible to find another woman to want like this. I hate myself for being so distracted by her while people die all around us.