I glance around at my shitty apartment. I wouldn’t have to live here, not if I didn’t want to. I could afford things other than junk food. I could do so much with that money that I –
“No,” I bark at myself to immediately stop the whirlwind of excited emotions. This is not a job. I am undercover. Nothing else in between.
Nibbling on my lip, I look back at the amount. I couldreally use the money though, and I can feel myself having a war about whether I’ll deposit it into an account or have Miles look into the account it was sent from.
Maybe I can do both?
I sit up in bed and swipe away my loose hair once more. I cannot let myself get too deep into this. Doing the right thing is prudent. I have to give this over to Miles; it’s the only way this investigation will move forward.
I stare at the amount though. I stare for a good long moment, and then my gaze lifts to my open door and the kitchen that is in view. Nathan’s box still sits there, and my mind turns to him.
What would he think of me for taking this money? For making porn in the first place? He may be dead, and we may have drifted so far apart that we might as well have been in two separate countries, but I know he’d be upset, disappointed, and appalled about this.
Sorrow grips my heart for a second, and before I know it, I’m climbing out of the bed and padding my way out of my room and to the box that squats on the counter. I set the phone on the counter and tuck my bottom lip between my teeth.
I haven’t touched the box since Miles put it there, but now . . . Now I run my fingertips over the corners. With numbness embracing me, I open the box. The familiar scent of his cologne wafts out, and I dip my hand inside and pull out the shirt that’s on top. It’s a ratted old thing from high school, one I had bought him when one particularly nasty girl started showing interest in him.
“I’m with her,” it says. A picture of me is at the bottom.
With a little water gathering in my eyes, I smile as I lay it on the counter. He had worn it almost every week. Until, one day, he didn’t . ..
The smile fades from my face, and instead of dwelling on it and whatever happened to us, I dig into the box again.
The bottle of his cologne comes out next. I give him a new bottle of this every Christmas. Same brand, same scent.
Lifting the cap off, I take a big whiff. He never once told me if he liked the smell or not, but he had worn it when he met with clients, so he had to have.
I set the cologne aside and take out a few other things that belonged to him; rocks he had picked up from his travels, a couple of pictures of our wedding, the gun he had kept in his nightstand, and lastly, his laptop. I stare at the laptop for a second, thinking about opening it and seeing what kind of screen saver he has now. It used to be a picture of us, but now? Now I don’t know what it is.
With a clench of my jaw, I decide not to open it because, either way, it’ll hurt.
I turn my back to his belongings and rest my ass against the counter as I fold my arms over my chest. I need to get my head on straight. It may not have been long since he died, but I have to move on. I have to focus on the here and now, on this case, especially if I want to stay alive. Having my mind on anything other than what matters most right now won’t help me stay alive. It won’t help me help those victims. It won’t help me save anyone, and it won’t help me prove that I deserve more than what I’d been labeled as by my peers.
I have a lot to prove, and I can’t do that if I’m still hung up on a man that I had drifted so far apart from that we were practically strangers. And it shouldn’t matter what he’d think about the porn. This is my life now, and his soul gets no say in it.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlotte Mitchell
It feels so wrong being in this store, surrounded by lace in all colors and string that couldn’t possibly be comfortable in certain places. But here I am, browsing the clearance section for lingerie that I can barely afford, just before sunset.
I texted Nix a few times today to ask what I needed to complete my job, and this is the first store he told me to hit up. I hadn’t known what I was getting myself into until I walked in. And now? Now I don’t even know what I’m doing.
Am I regretting this undercover job? No. But am I embarrassed that I’m getting some stares? Yes. I’m not exactly dressed in expensive clothes for such an expensive store.
There aren't many outfits that will match my size. However, there are a few, and as I browse them, I wonder which one Nix would like most. It shouldn’t be up to him.It should be up to those who watch me, but I can’t help but want to dress for him and him only. After all, it was fantasizing about him that got me the job in the first place. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway because fantasizing about him for other reasons besides the need to complete the job is out of the question.
What I should be fantasizing about is cuffing him and nothing more. Not wondering if his skin tastes as good as it smells. Not the desire to count how many abs he has to have. Not questioning what the muscles in his arms would do if I bit my nails into them in a moment of pure bliss.
Clearing my throat to dispel the imagery I now have, I hold up a black baby doll piece and twist my lips to the side. Will I always be masturbating on camera, or will someone end up joining me? Do I get a say? There’s a good chance I don’t, but if a strange man does end up joining me, I can get close to him and see what he knows about the inner operations.
I try not to let that get to me – having sex with a stranger – because I’m such a fresh widow that, if I think too long about it, I’ll be disgusted with myself. But I have to keep reminding myself that I’m doing this to save women, that I’m doing this because it’s the only way in.
I can’t let anything change me and who I want to be while I’m doing this. Still, it’s funny how far someone will fall, how low someone will drop, just in the name of doing the right thing. In the name of saving someone, of maybe saving yourself too if you’re lucky.
In a roundabout way, I had to remind Miles of that too when I called him after Nix sent the money. He knew then and there that I had done something for the camera and again tried to pull me from the job. I ended up hanging up on him and shutting off the phone entirely. I’m firm on this. The job will get done at any cost, and the next personwill get saved, and I’ll be the one to do it. For them, for the city, for me.
With a quick nod to myself, I check the price tag of the baby doll lingerie, and satisfied with that price, I hook the hanger on my wrist. It’s a keeper, and I have no doubt that I’ll look decent in it.
