Briggs nods. “Our guys are working on it now. The scene will be pristine within the hour.”
“You sure no one saw what happened?” River asks.
I hold his stare, knowing this is a line I’m intentionally crossing.
“Positive.”
He nods and takes a seat behind his desk, already attending to his next order of business.
I push off the couch and head for the door, eager to get away from the mess I know I’m making.
The second I’m in the hallway, I pull out my phone. The text I sent an hour ago still sits there, unanswered.
Echo: Did you get home okay?
I tap the screen, checking the delivery receipt. It went through. She has her phone, I’m sure she’s seen it.
Given our arrangement, I assumed she’d respond immediately. She should be eager to comply and desperate to stay on my good side, but she isn’t responding.
Interesting.
My message wasn’t invasive or threatening. If anything, it was friendly. So why does her silence feel like the first sign of resistance?
My jaw tightens.
I lock the screen and slide the phone back into my pocket. She can’t ignore me forever. I’ll make sure of it.
CHAPTER SIX
Dahlia
The door chimesand I glance up automatically, expecting to see another customer walk through the door.
Instead, it’s the last person I expected to see.
Echo.
It’s been over a week since that night in the alley. In the time since, I half convinced myself I imagined him. That he was just some kind of scary hot apparition my brain created after being under severe duress.
But nope.
He’s real. And he’s standing in the doorway of my bookstore looking even more attractive in the daylight.
He’s dressed in all black. Wearing a fitted t-shirt that does nothing to hide the muscles underneath it and a pair of jeans that sit low on his hips and are way too tight around his?—
Nope.
Not going there.
His dark hair is combed back neatly, and there's a faintshadow of stubble along his jaw. A man like him has no business looking this hot.
Nature is kind of twisted in that way. It’s like the universe purposely makes the most dangerous things alluring just to fuck with us.
He steps further in, letting the door swing shut behind him, and every other customer in Better Than Fiction notices. Their heads swivel in his direction cartoonishly, and my eyes flare when a woman standing near the historical romance section actually bites her lip when she spots him.
Jesus.
He’s pretty, but he’s not that pretty.
