He makes me both strong and weak all at the same time and it’s confusing.
The place I really want to go is inside the room he told me was off limits. I mean, really, if he hadn’t said anything then I wouldn’t be so interested, but it was like theBeauty and the Beastmovie when the Beast tells Belle that she’s not allowed in the West Wing…where did she go? To the West Wing, of course.
I’m not surprised to find the door locked, but there is a keypad. A bit fancy, if you ask me, but it also makes me more curious. What is he hiding behind that door?
Purely for shits and giggles, because my chances of guessing the right code are sitting at around 1%, I try his birthday. Nope. I’ll try one more. Trying three times feels too dangerous, and I can just imagine the veins in his neck bulging if he gets locked out because of me getting his code wrong multiple times. Two times, though, is perfectly acceptable.
Fuck it…I try the date he and his parents moved in, the first day we spoke and became instant best friends. It’s been my own password since before he ghosted me and became the asshole he is today, and as a creature of habit, I have never used anything else.
Holy shit, it works! The keypad turns green as the door clicks open and I step inside. I don’t know what I expected to find, but it looks like any normal office to me. A desk set up with three large screens, a comfortable rolling chair—black leather, obviously—and a lot of hard drives on the shelves. Nothing out of the ordinary, so why would he specifically give me a rule to stay out of here?
I nudge the computer mouse because if I’m gonna snoop, I should snoop properly, but as soon as I see what is on thosescreens, I wish I hadn’t. One of the outer screens is split into four images…four images of my house. My living room, my kitchen, my back yard, my porch.
Clicking a folder with my name on it from the center screen, my eyes widen further when I spot one of the thumbnails.
That’s my bedroom!
I open the file and…
Oh, God. My stomach drops and I feel sick.
How long has he been watching me?
Just looking at the image of my bed on that screen makes me want to run far far away from here. Not just my bed, but me on my bed, with my dildo. Suddenly, the whole room feels heavy, thick, suffocating.
Has he been using me for some kind of twisted game? It’s all beginning to feel a little like high school, and with the very real memory of literally killing one of my high school demons, yeah…
I have to leave. I don’t want to stick around and ask questions. It feels like too much on top of everything else.
Rushing down the stairs, I find my car keys in a bowl by the front door. I grab them and head out, wasting no time on thinking about any consequences to this. My mom and dad’s house will be empty with them being on a cruise. I can go there, have a few days to try and work my own mind out, then I’ll come back and let Tanner try and explain his damned self. Maybe. Because if his friendliness and help have all been a part of something I’m oblivious to, it could break me.
I’m not equipped to deal with all of this, despite my education, and I think the hole I’ve been digging for myself with the let’s-do-Karma’s-job crap is about to cave in on me.
I’ll be fine though…
Yeah…totally fine.
Chapter Nineteen
Tanner
“Idon’t understand, Mr…I’m sorry, what did you say your name was, again?” This is the fourth time the businessman standing less than two feet away has tried to get my identification.
“I didn’t.” And what he doesn’t seem to understand is that I won’t. It’s not how this works.
In fact, I shouldn’t even be here but something’s not adding up. Yesterday’s phone call from my commanding officer, Captain Surry, didn’t sit right with me, which is the only reason I’m meeting a potential client face to face.
Well, face to helmet. No fucking way I’m showing myself to these pricks.
“Right. As I was saying, I don’t understand why you’re refusing our business. Isn’t this”—the man, Cary Lindberg—because I do my fucking research—does a slow, up and down perusal of my body, clearly finding some kind of connection between my attire and my job—“what you do?”
“No.” Even my answer is cryptic. The guy doesn’t need nor deserve my reasons or explanations, he’s just a middle man,barely worthy of my attention. It took some time and effort, but once I got the phone number linked to Gerald’s security gig, I found the investment bank. Cary is a manager, nothing more.
I don’t kill for sport and despite what my shrinks have repeatedly told me, I refuse to let my nature lock me up for the rest of my life. Contrary to popular belief, prison doesn’t rehabilitate, it only allows people like me to hone their skills and give them the challenge to do better next time. Once inside, I’ll die there. Fuck that, I’m not risking it for this asshole. Or any asshole, really.
The only person I’d proudly walk into prison for is Berkleigh, and even then it would have to be for her protection.
“Hmm, a man of few words.” Cary looks at his two goons, brows raised like a two bit comedian waiting for his entourage to respond. Chuckling, those idiots give him exactly what he wants.
