“Doesn’t seem like you need company. You do realize you can be tossed in jail for an additional five years to your original sentence? How long do you think it’ll take before you get caught?”
She frowned because Clint “the tool” failed to mention that fact when he high-tailed it out of there. She frowned and decided she would be sending Mike a strongly worded email when Bryson left. She shook her head and dropped her gaze.
“I really am lonely though,” she replied, truthfully.
“Yeah, sorry to hear that. I hope you’re not getting into more trouble, Kim.”
He started for the door again, and Kim lunged herself at him, threw her arms around his waist, and held on.
“Please don’t go. Stay the night, you know, like you used to,” she begged, looking up at him.
She inhaled the scent of his cologne, and although he wasn’t Kayden, he was always an okay substitution. Bryson pried her arms from around him and took a step back. He placed his hand on her cheek softly, looked deep into her eyes, and smiled.
“Not for all the blow at a frat party,” he deadpanned, then stepped around her, opened the door, and walked out.
She followed behind him as he trotted down the steps of the neglected building. Kim stood on the slanting concrete porch, her fists balled at her sides. Her breathing increased, and she could slowly see the color red moving across her field of vision.She squeezed her eyes closed and screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Bryson!”
When she opened them again, Bryson hadn’t even bothered to turn around; he kept his stride as he disappeared into the parking lot. A group of people sitting on a bench on the lawn looked up from their domino game and stared up at her. She hadn’t noticed them before, and the glare of six pairs of eyes unnerved her.
She scurried back into the doorway of her apartment and slammed the door shut once she was safely back inside. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself, especially to a potential murderous freak in the middle of the night. She slid the flimsy, rusted door chain into place, her only security system, then pulled the curtains closed. She took deep breaths to try to calm herself, but was still seething inside.
Who in the hell was Bryson to curve me?
A smile spread across her face, and her anger disappeared like a puff of smoke. Bryson’s rejection of her didn’t ultimately matter, even if it hurt. She got exactly what she was really after anyway. Pulling his wallet from her back pocket, Kim threw it on the table, then sat back down on the couch.
She opened her laptop, the browser window already open, and typed in the search bar. Soon, the web result for Delta flights popped up in front of her. She’d have to move fast before he realized his credit card was missing and canceled it. A smile spread across her face as the flights out of Georgia to New Orleans were on sale that week.
11
the moving pieces
Soft morning light streamed through the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the loft's interior in a pristine, almost sterile glow. With the stark white walls and gleaming marble floors, the place looked practically heavenly. But the atmosphere was anything but.
Kayden stood by the glass, a mug of coffee clutched in his good hand, letting the warm rays envelop him. The heat felt superficial, failing to touch the cold, hard knot of dread in his stomach. He’d meant what he said the other night. He was done waiting. He was going to demand the truth, all of it.
He stared out at the sprawling city skyline, his eyes shifting to the tiny, ant-like cars far below, weaving in and out of traffic. He idly wondered where they were all off to in such a frantic hurry. No one in this giant, roaring city ever seemed to just... stop. To enjoy the beauty of the day itself.
The relentless, impersonal hustle was one of the main reasons he’d fallen in love with Hamby. A slower-paced life. A place where you had time to stop andbreathe, to collect your thoughts, and appreciate what was right in front of you. He couldn't wait to get back there, to that hard-won peace, and finally move on with his life with Lana.Again.
The thought of her and the life they were trying to build solidified his resolve. But first, he had to get through this. The silence of the loft was broken by the sharp, clinicaltap-tap-tapof high heels on the marble floor. Maureen. She was making her way out of her bedroom.
Kayden didn't move. He took one last, slow sip of his coffee, his gaze remaining fixed on the chaotic city below. He heard the tapping stop, felt her presence behind him. He set his mug down on the wide, marble windowsill, the porcelain making a sharpclinkin the quiet room. He took one final, steadying breath, then slowly turned to face her.
“Morning,” she said, smiling confidently, folding her arms across her chest.
Kayden could sense the anxiety rippling beneath the surface of her façade. As hard as she tried to hold it all together, it was unmistakable. Just what in the hell did she do that was so bad,he thought. He shifted back to the window, and a smile crept on the corner of his mouth as he took another sip of coffee. He would let her sweat it out all day—it was a little cruel, but so was she.
“Morning,” he replied, flashing her a quick smile as she stood next to him and gazed over the skyline.
“Breathtaking view, right? I almost forgot how nice it could be,” she breathed, gazing at the skyscrapers in the distance.
“It is. What time will the car be downstairs?” he asked before taking another sip of the mocha latte Rochelle made for him.
“Ten. We still have about thirty minutes to go,” she answered hesitantly.
She stood as still as a statue, as if waiting for more questioning, but he only nodded and continued to sip his drink. She sighed lightly, then turned and walked into the kitchen.
