Chapter 17 #3
Her already placid expression seems to soften even more.
My gaze drops, briefly lingering on the curve of her hip pressed against the shelf, my hand twitching with the need to touch her.
Anywhere. Somewhere. “And since we’re already on the topic of who needs who.
” I take a step closer, my attention now glued to her lips.
“It’s okay to ask for help from time to time.
To need someone to clean up your mess when it gets too much.
It doesn’t make you weak or incapable. It makes you…
” I lift my hand, fingers grazing her hair, curling a lock between them. “Mine.”
Her phone rings.
The shrill sound lancing through the silence of the room and fuck if I don’t want to smash the damn device to smithereens for ruining our moment.
She jerks away from me and pulls her phone from her pocket, disconnecting the call in one swift motion. Without sparing me a single glance, she turns toward the door, making her way to it. But I move faster, blocking her path before she can reach for the doorknob.
“What now?” she snaps, still not looking at me.
“Does this whole debacle with the police mean we’re going to pay Nate Lawson a visit?”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “For fuck’s sake, not this again.”
“Yes, this again. Who do you think left the anonymous tip?”
“Literally anyone, Theo! It could be any-fucking-body! Why are you so fixated on this one man?”
“Because he is the only person with the motive to screw up your life.” How is she still not getting this?
“Oh yeah? And what was your motive when you first started stalking me?”
My face falls.
“Exactly.” She shakes her head, her tone softening just a smidge. “Look, I don’t care what you think you know, but you don’t know everything. And you do not know this man. It’s not him. It can’t be.”
That last bit is more of a whispered assurance to herself.
It takes me a few seconds, but eventually, the realization hits me like a freight train.
Holly isn’t just being her usual stubborn self anymore.
I know her stubbornness, I like her stubbornness.
This is different. Clammy palms, tight shoulders, rigid posture. I can’t believe it.
“Are you scared of him?” I ask.
Her eyes meet mine almost instantly. “Excuse me?”
“Why are you so afraid to confront him?”
She hesitates, seeming to debate something before saying, “Just because I’m not eager to have a meet-and-greet with an ex-convict doesn’t mean I’m afraid of him. It just means I have common sense.”
“Not when the ex-convict is blackmailing you and leaving meat cleavers on your bed.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do. It all adds up. The date of his release, the date of your first message—”
“Stop it!” She cuts me off. “Just stop.” The glint in her eyes is lethal, yet it reeks of desperation.
It’s almost as if she’s forcing herself to be angry.
Her phone rings again. She disconnects it again.
“All of that is just a coincidence. It doesn’t mean he’s the one behind those messages.
It doesn’t mean anything.” A small pause.
“I am not meeting him, Theo. Please, don’t make me. ”
“Fine. Then, I will.”
Holly frowns. “You will what?”
“I’ll go confront him for you.”
She goes on looking at me like I’ve gone insane.
“And what exactly are you going to say to him? ‘Hey, man, I’m a friend of Holly’s.
Just wanted to ask if you knew anything about these weird messages she’s been getting?
You know the one with death threats and evidence of her burying a body in the woods? Nothing major.’”
A blush warms my cheeks.
“What now?” she snaps.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Spit it out before I make you.”
“I’ve just never heard you address me as your friend before. It feels nice. You should say it more often.”
Holly just stares at me. “You’re the one who should be scared right now.”
“Of you? Always.”
“Go fuck yourself —”
A sudden knock at the door interrupts our conversation.
Holly frowns and looks at me as if this, too, is somehow my fault.
I raise my hands in surrender: I have nothing to do with that, I promise.
Another knock. Her focus shifts to the door, she hesitates for a moment, her hand hovering over the knob, before finally twisting it open. Holly’s posture stiffens. “Cami? What are you doing here?”
The blonde woman stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, her expression tight, and her eyes scanning Holly with a mix of concern and barely concealed irritation. “What am I doing here? Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”
Holly blinks, visibly thrown off, her usually sharp tongue seemingly abandoning her. “I-I’ve been busy,” she stammers, her gaze darting between Camille’s face and mine.
“Evidently,” Camille replies, her gaze shifting to me.
I step forward and extend my hand, offering a greeting. “Theo Carter. Pleased to meet you.”
She ignores my outstretched hand and shifts her focus back to Holly. “We need to talk.”
“Cami, what are you doing here?” Holly repeats, her voice caught between surprise and confusion. “How did you even know where to find me? Did you talk to someone—”
“Relax, jeez. I just asked some nurse where to find you.”
“A nurse? You know no one’s supposed to—”
“Know about us, yes. I’m aware. But this is important. I really need to talk to you.” Camille’s icy focus shifts back to me, lingering for a second before moving back to Holly. “Alone.”
Holly shakes her head, dragging her hands through her hair, her fingers catching in the strands as if the fact that she got interrogated by the police is only just now hitting her.
“I…I can’t right now,” she mutters, her voice low and for some reason apologetic.
“I still have tons of work to finish before April’s bachelorette.
But later. We can talk tonight. My place? ”
Camille’s brows furrow. A flicker of hesitation crosses her face. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone. She schools her features into something calm, almost too calm, and nods. “Fine.”
“Am I invited to this little soirée too, or is it strictly just girls?” I ask. I’m obviously being sarcastic.
As if I need an invitation to show up at Holly’s door.
Both women turn their glares on me simultaneously.
Holly’s eyes are fiery, the usual. But Camille’s are sharp and cutting, like the edge of a knife.
She doesn’t bother hiding her distaste for me.
And I don’t particularly appreciate it given that I’ve done absolutely nothing to her.
She leans in toward Holly, muttering something under her breath that I can’t catch.
Whatever it is, it’s meant for Holly alone.
Then she pulls her into a brief hug, quick and efficient, before stepping back.
“I’ll see you later,” Camille says, throwing me one last frosty glance before leaving the room.
The door clicks shut behind her, and the silence that follows is thick enough to choke on.
“Well, that was weird.”
“Theo, just stop.”
I don’t. “You could have told her.”
“Told her what? About the cops? Or that I’m now in an apparent relationship with my stalker?”
My lips curve into a smile. “I do love it when you call me yours.”
She shoots me a sharp look. I ignore it.
“Why’d you lie to her?”
“It wasn’t lying,” Holly says flatly. “I just don’t think she needs to know something that doesn’t even concern her at the moment — stop doing that!”
“Doing what?” I say, feigning innocence.
“Making that weird face!”
“You mean smiling?”
“Yes, stop doing that. Just say whatever inappropriate, snarky comment it’s taking ten years off your life to hold back so that I can tell you to go to hell and get on with my life.”
“You’re welcome to tell me to go to hell regardless, love. But don’t for a second think I won’t drag you down with me.”
She shakes her head, a quiet, frustrated sigh slipping past her lips — so full and so soft, the color of a perfectly ripe plum.
I can almost taste them. Almost feel them.
The way they’d give under mine, the sweet sigh that would escape them as I trailed my tongue along the nape of her neck.
Licking. Biting. Marking. She reaches for the doorknob and my hand comes down over hers, firm, perhaps even a bit harsh, stopping her in her tracks.
Her head snaps up, eyes locking onto mine. “Let me go.”
“We’re a lot alike, you and me.”
“Yeah? Do you also feel like grabbing a syringe from that packet over there and stabbing it through your throat?”
“You think I act without thinking about consequences, but I think you just did the same thing. You lied to your best friend because it was the most convenient way out. And it wasn’t the first time, was it? You lied to her last night too. About having me over at your place?”
She purses her lips in a thin line. “What exactly does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. Just makes me wonder what else you’re keeping from dear old Camille. Maybe she’s keeping things from you too.”
“What are you trying to say, Theo?”
“What if it’s her? What if she’s the one sending you all these messages?”
Holly laughs, sharp and acidic, the sound dripping with anything but amusement. “Congratulations, Dr. Carter. You have officially lost your mind.”
“It isn’t all that far-fetched.” I lift my hand, my fingers lightly brushing her chin. “Isn’t she the only other person who knows about your little side hustle?”
Her breath slightly hitches, but she makes no effort to smack my hand away. “She’s my friend. What the fuck would her motive be?”
She’s trying so hard to hide how my touch is affecting her right now, it’s almost comical.
She might not admit it, but it’s obvious to anyone with a working set of eyes.
The way her body subtly leans into my pull, the way she swallows, the way her eyes never leave mine for even a second — except for that brief, telling flick to my mouth every now and then.
Holly likes this. She likes me like this.
“Psychopaths don’t need a motive, Dr. Moore,” I say, my voice deadly calm. “You of all people should know that.” My hand slides up the side of her neck, weaving into the soft strands of her hair. I tug on them gently, but it’s enough to make her gasp, her lips parting as her chest rises sharply.
She doesn’t move away. Doesn’t even try.
Her gaze flickers, darting between my eyes and my mouth, betraying that sharp mind of hers.
My hand slides from her hair to the front of her throat, resting just under her jaw.
Her chest rises and falls faster now, the tension thrumming between us like a live wire.
I can feel the heat radiating off her skin under my palm.
My thumb grazes over her pulse and I imagine clamping my mouth over the spot, sucking until I feel her heart race for an entirely different reason.
She swallows once, her throat bobbing just under my hand.
I lean in closer and her back meets the cold metal shelf with a soft thud, the sound barely registering over the blood roaring in my ears. She leans forward as if to close the space between us —
A high-pitched beeping cuts through the air.
Motherfucker.
Holly jerks suddenly, snapping out of it. Her goddamn pager. She pulls away.
She steps to a side, her face flushed like a tomato, and I make it my personal mission to break every single electronic device she owns.
She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out the wretched device, her fingers fumbling as she pretends to read those three little words on the screen for a good six seconds.
“It’s the ER. I have to go.” She grips the doorknob, ready to bolt, when something makes her pause.
She glances over her shoulder, her gaze sharp and cutting despite the flush still high on her cheeks. “You’re wrong, you know.”
“Unlikely, but go on.”
“About the two of us. We are not the same. I might have lied to Camille today. Even yesterday. Hell, I’ve done things way worse than just lie to keep the people I care about safe, but that doesn’t mean the two of us are anything alike.
Because deep down, I’m still a good person.
You are not. So, I suggest you keep your hands off me and Camille’s name out of your mouth. ”
I chuckle softly. Funny Holly. With one hand in my pocket, I take a step forward and tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering at a spot below her ear for a second too long. “I never said I was a good person, Holly. Just yours.”