Five Ways to Fall
Page 76
As Jimmy tails me.
I’m surprised that I even caught on. I wouldn’t have, had I not looked in my rearview mirror at that precise second to see a black sedan three cars back make a left-hand turn, the streetlight reflecting off its shiny upgraded hubcaps.
It looked an awful lot like the same car I climbed into earlier tonight. Seven minutes and three turns later, I can’t deny that it is the same car.
I pass by the entrance to my apartment building—quivering at how easily I could have brought Jimmy there, handing him yet another bit of information that could lead him to Cain—and I continue all the way to a twenty-four-hour diner on the other side of Miami.
Far away from everyone I’ve come to love.
Chapter thirty-nine
CAIN
“Cain?”
The minimal hair that Tanner has left is standing on end as he answers his door, half asleep, the day’s sports highlights blaring through his apartment in the background.
“I need a key to Charlie’s apartment.”
He frowns. “Well . . . er . . . the laws say—”
“Fuck the law, Tanner,” I snap. “Either give me the key or I’ll bust down the door, and then you’ll be dealing with contractors to fix it.”
Grumbling something unintelligible, Tanner reaches up and grabs the giant ring of keys that hangs on the wall beside the door. He reminds me of a jailer in that regard, but I don’t say anything. Thrusting it forward with a scowl, I feel his eyes on my back as I march toward 1-D. Tanner’s a fantastic superintendent.
“Charlie?” I call out as I step into the dark apartment. I’m almost positive she’s not here because her car’s not out front. Still, I know she has a gun and I’d rather not get shot tonight.
Silence responds.
She could be back any minute, so I don’t waste time, heading straight for her bedroom. I don’t expect to find much, seeing as my closet and dresser are overflowing with her clothes and her feminine stuff has invaded my bathroom cabinet. In fact, based on my cursory inspection of her bedroom, the room is empty, except for the sheets on her bed.
And the bottom dresser drawer.
I start rifling through the assortment of workout clothes packed within—shorts, T-shirts, yoga pants—until I come to one . . . two . . . three . . . I pull out five wigs buried beneath. Blond, brunette, short-haired, long-haired. The strands are silky between my fingertips. I’m pretty sure it’s real hair, and if it’s real, that means these wigs are expensive.
Suitable for high-end disguises.
And high-end crimes.
The curly brown one makes a thumping sound as I whip it at the wall in anger. How did I not have a clue? I’ve been sleeping with, working with, falling for this woman!
It has to be drugs. No wonder she’s been so secretive. Fuck! Given who Dan is, my past . . . it’s all adding up. I remember how she froze when she realized I had spoken to this Sam guy. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whoever he is, he’s controlling her—and she’s terrified of him. Maybe he is her real father. That would mean she has assumed someone else’s identity, because the one she gave me is real.
Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide who she really is.
Quickly searching the rest of the place, I find nothing of interest. And no gun. She must have it on her.
There’s really not much left to do except sit on her couch—inhaling the faint scent of her floral perfume that it still holds. I slide my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. And wait. But . . . what the f**k am I going to say? Accuse her of dealing drugs over the phone? Shit. I should have given this some more thought.
With a heavy sigh, my thumb shifts to the “end” button when Charlie’s sweet voice comes on to ask me to leave a message. But I find I can’t hit it. I can’t break this connection to her. What if it’s the only one I have left? What if this is my only chance to get everything off my chest?
“Hi, Charlie.” My voice cracks with her name. It might not be her real name, but it’s the only one I know. To me, she’s Charlie. She’s the woman who stole my heart right out from me before I even realized she had her hands on it. I chuckle into the phone, the irony not lost to me. I did hire a thief, after all.
Like a floodgate, the words begin pouring out freely and quickly as I try to beat the time limit on the messaging system. I explain what happened with China and how I’m firing her. I explain how I just rifled through her things and I know what she’s into—or suspect what she’s into—and how I don’t care, as long as she’ll let me help her get away from it. I’ll do anything to help her get out of it.
I explain how I wish I had never said those words to her tonight, how I could never just let her go. How we can figure this out.
How I’ve fallen for her.
It isn’t until the answering service cuts me off that I realize my entire body is shaking.
I lean back. I take a deep, calming breath.
And I wait for her to come home.
She’s not leaving my sight again until she trusts me completely. Until I drag every last confession out of her beautiful mouth.
Until I get her out of this f**king mess.
Chapter forty
CHARLIE
I won the showdown.
Four cups of coffee and two pieces of apple pie later, I watched the black sedan pull out of the parking lot and head left. He likely figured out that I was on to him. There’s a good chance he’s waiting in a nearby parking lot for my truck to pull out, so I watch the window for another two hours, until my eyes are heavy and I’m seriously debating curling up on the bench.
But I can’t, because I still have too much to do, including the first unselfish thing I’ve done since the day I walked into Penny’s. As soon as the plump middle-aged waitress comes back from her smoke break, I politely ask her for a pen and some paper.
I hug my knapsack to my body. There’s fifty thousand dollars packed into it, so, naturally, I feel like a sitting duck with a sign over my head that reads “rob me of all that I have.” It is all that I have, along with some basic supplies and a few articles of clothing that I picked up at the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart while waiting for the bank to open.
It took ten minutes to clear out my safety deposit box and my bank account. When I went to sell my car to the dealership, they told me it would take a few days to cut me a check. I flirted, I yelled, I groveled. I pulled out all my best acting skills. Finally I asked them what it would cost to get them to take it immediately.
I walked out of there with ten grand in cash, knowing I had been cheated.
Not caring.
Now, as I sit on a bench, waiting for my bus out of Miami, there’s only one thing left to do. Well, two things.
I’m not sure which is harder.
My burner phone rings. “Hello, little mouse. Feeling normal again today?”
Normal. What is normal? My quiet acceptance of all that Sam has trained me to be? Of his tainted love, with all the ugliness that comes with it?
I had an entire speech planned, about how he had taken advantage of me, how you don’t put those you love in danger. How I don’t think I can ever forgive him. But I’m tired and it just feels unnecessary. There are only two words I need to say.
They may come out wobbly, but they are unyielding. “Goodbye, Sam.”
Shutting the burner phone off, I toss it in the trash as a wave of relief washes over me.
I am done with Sam.
That was the easy part.
I’m surprised that I even caught on. I wouldn’t have, had I not looked in my rearview mirror at that precise second to see a black sedan three cars back make a left-hand turn, the streetlight reflecting off its shiny upgraded hubcaps.
It looked an awful lot like the same car I climbed into earlier tonight. Seven minutes and three turns later, I can’t deny that it is the same car.
I pass by the entrance to my apartment building—quivering at how easily I could have brought Jimmy there, handing him yet another bit of information that could lead him to Cain—and I continue all the way to a twenty-four-hour diner on the other side of Miami.
Far away from everyone I’ve come to love.
Chapter thirty-nine
CAIN
“Cain?”
The minimal hair that Tanner has left is standing on end as he answers his door, half asleep, the day’s sports highlights blaring through his apartment in the background.
“I need a key to Charlie’s apartment.”
He frowns. “Well . . . er . . . the laws say—”
“Fuck the law, Tanner,” I snap. “Either give me the key or I’ll bust down the door, and then you’ll be dealing with contractors to fix it.”
Grumbling something unintelligible, Tanner reaches up and grabs the giant ring of keys that hangs on the wall beside the door. He reminds me of a jailer in that regard, but I don’t say anything. Thrusting it forward with a scowl, I feel his eyes on my back as I march toward 1-D. Tanner’s a fantastic superintendent.
“Charlie?” I call out as I step into the dark apartment. I’m almost positive she’s not here because her car’s not out front. Still, I know she has a gun and I’d rather not get shot tonight.
Silence responds.
She could be back any minute, so I don’t waste time, heading straight for her bedroom. I don’t expect to find much, seeing as my closet and dresser are overflowing with her clothes and her feminine stuff has invaded my bathroom cabinet. In fact, based on my cursory inspection of her bedroom, the room is empty, except for the sheets on her bed.
And the bottom dresser drawer.
I start rifling through the assortment of workout clothes packed within—shorts, T-shirts, yoga pants—until I come to one . . . two . . . three . . . I pull out five wigs buried beneath. Blond, brunette, short-haired, long-haired. The strands are silky between my fingertips. I’m pretty sure it’s real hair, and if it’s real, that means these wigs are expensive.
Suitable for high-end disguises.
And high-end crimes.
The curly brown one makes a thumping sound as I whip it at the wall in anger. How did I not have a clue? I’ve been sleeping with, working with, falling for this woman!
It has to be drugs. No wonder she’s been so secretive. Fuck! Given who Dan is, my past . . . it’s all adding up. I remember how she froze when she realized I had spoken to this Sam guy. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whoever he is, he’s controlling her—and she’s terrified of him. Maybe he is her real father. That would mean she has assumed someone else’s identity, because the one she gave me is real.
Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide who she really is.
Quickly searching the rest of the place, I find nothing of interest. And no gun. She must have it on her.
There’s really not much left to do except sit on her couch—inhaling the faint scent of her floral perfume that it still holds. I slide my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. And wait. But . . . what the f**k am I going to say? Accuse her of dealing drugs over the phone? Shit. I should have given this some more thought.
With a heavy sigh, my thumb shifts to the “end” button when Charlie’s sweet voice comes on to ask me to leave a message. But I find I can’t hit it. I can’t break this connection to her. What if it’s the only one I have left? What if this is my only chance to get everything off my chest?
“Hi, Charlie.” My voice cracks with her name. It might not be her real name, but it’s the only one I know. To me, she’s Charlie. She’s the woman who stole my heart right out from me before I even realized she had her hands on it. I chuckle into the phone, the irony not lost to me. I did hire a thief, after all.
Like a floodgate, the words begin pouring out freely and quickly as I try to beat the time limit on the messaging system. I explain what happened with China and how I’m firing her. I explain how I just rifled through her things and I know what she’s into—or suspect what she’s into—and how I don’t care, as long as she’ll let me help her get away from it. I’ll do anything to help her get out of it.
I explain how I wish I had never said those words to her tonight, how I could never just let her go. How we can figure this out.
How I’ve fallen for her.
It isn’t until the answering service cuts me off that I realize my entire body is shaking.
I lean back. I take a deep, calming breath.
And I wait for her to come home.
She’s not leaving my sight again until she trusts me completely. Until I drag every last confession out of her beautiful mouth.
Until I get her out of this f**king mess.
Chapter forty
CHARLIE
I won the showdown.
Four cups of coffee and two pieces of apple pie later, I watched the black sedan pull out of the parking lot and head left. He likely figured out that I was on to him. There’s a good chance he’s waiting in a nearby parking lot for my truck to pull out, so I watch the window for another two hours, until my eyes are heavy and I’m seriously debating curling up on the bench.
But I can’t, because I still have too much to do, including the first unselfish thing I’ve done since the day I walked into Penny’s. As soon as the plump middle-aged waitress comes back from her smoke break, I politely ask her for a pen and some paper.
I hug my knapsack to my body. There’s fifty thousand dollars packed into it, so, naturally, I feel like a sitting duck with a sign over my head that reads “rob me of all that I have.” It is all that I have, along with some basic supplies and a few articles of clothing that I picked up at the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart while waiting for the bank to open.
It took ten minutes to clear out my safety deposit box and my bank account. When I went to sell my car to the dealership, they told me it would take a few days to cut me a check. I flirted, I yelled, I groveled. I pulled out all my best acting skills. Finally I asked them what it would cost to get them to take it immediately.
I walked out of there with ten grand in cash, knowing I had been cheated.
Not caring.
Now, as I sit on a bench, waiting for my bus out of Miami, there’s only one thing left to do. Well, two things.
I’m not sure which is harder.
My burner phone rings. “Hello, little mouse. Feeling normal again today?”
Normal. What is normal? My quiet acceptance of all that Sam has trained me to be? Of his tainted love, with all the ugliness that comes with it?
I had an entire speech planned, about how he had taken advantage of me, how you don’t put those you love in danger. How I don’t think I can ever forgive him. But I’m tired and it just feels unnecessary. There are only two words I need to say.
They may come out wobbly, but they are unyielding. “Goodbye, Sam.”
Shutting the burner phone off, I toss it in the trash as a wave of relief washes over me.
I am done with Sam.
That was the easy part.
