Chuckling, Evie said, “A little bit of both.” Even though it killed her to take a step back in her own life and investigation, she’d let her brother handle it. “You know, Damon thinks John surfaced now because we went viral in that picture and he’s jealous. I have a life and he doesn’t. We know he blames me, but it was his fault he lost his law license, his job, his marriage. Not mine.” Her hand squeezed the cup too tight and the top popped off. At least she’d drunk enough coffee so it didn’t spill.
“So Damon knows everything about John?” Quinn asked pointedly.
Evie shook her head. “Not everything.” She not-so-absently rubbed the scar on her arm. “That’s on a need-to-know business and he doesn’t need to know. I’m just hoping that with that one prank, John got his digs in and he’s done with me.”
“I hope so.”
But they both knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t in her ex’s nature to give up.
“So, how’s that adorable baby?” Evie changed the subject to Quinn’s favorite topic.
“Jenny is so cute! She knows my voice and turns toward me when she hears me. And she smiles at us. Close to a laugh.”
Her eyes lit up as she described the baby that had been left on Austin’s doorstep and turned out to be his. He’d asked Quinn, who’d been his assistant at the time, to move in and help, and they’d fallen in love. Which effectively made her Jenny’s mother since the baby’s biological mom had signed away her parental rights.
“And I want to go shopping this weekend for furniture. She can’t stay in a Pack ’n Play forever and we need to make her room into a nursery.”
“Sounds great. I’m thrilled for you. You know that, right?” If anyone deserved happiness, it was Quinn. She always did things for others. As a child, she’d helped her parents raise her siblings, and she was the perfect executive assistant. She hadn’t planned on a family of her own, but now that she had one, she literally glowed with happiness.
Evie expected Austin to propose any day now and she knew Quinn would say yes. Because happily ever after was in the cards for some people. Just not for Evie. Damon was a job and she intended to handle it and him well.
* * *
Evie drove home, more aware of her surroundings than she’d ever been before, hyper-focused and more alert than since she’d moved and tried to put John behind her. She left her car and locked it, heading inside. She kept a hand on her hip, where she could easily reach her gun, and walked into the lobby, taking the elevator to her floor.
Soon she was back in her apartment, where she locked up tight and closed her shades. One more incident and she planned to ask the landlord’s permission to install an alarm. She didn’t want to overreact in case John had just been looking for one last-ditch opportunity to frighten her with the flowers and the snake. If he was on a mission of terror, she needed every means of keeping him out.
Pushing those thoughts out of her head she ate some quick leftovers. Then she took a shower, wrapped her hair into a bun, and slid on her favorite soft-as-butter tank top and panties.
Instead of obsessing, she took out her headphones and pulled up an app her yoga instructor had recommended for sleep and stress, headphones being an important part of the meditation and sounds.
Then she lay down, turned on the soothing voice, and followed the instructions, getting lost in her breathing and the calming exercises. As usual, when it ended, she pulled off the headphones and rolled over, immediately falling into a deep sleep.
She woke when she heard what she thought was the building’s fire alarm going off. The sun was just beginning to peek through the sides of the window.
Since it wasn’t a normal occurrence, she rushed out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, slipped her flip-flops on, grabbed her phone, her keys, tucked her gun into the back of her pants, and left her apartment. Once in the hall, her neighbors exited en masse as well. They walked the four flights down the stairs and crossed the parking lot to stand outside just as fire trucks and police sirens alerted them to their arrival.
* * *
Damon woke up at seven a.m. He’d left his phone in the kitchen last night, crashing early thanks to his head, and when he walked in to make a smoothie, he picked up the cell and pressed the side button. A stream of messages from Austin poured in, each one more annoyed than the last. The gist of it was to call his brother back, and Damon’s gut churned because it obviously wasn’t good news.
He tapped his brother’s name on the screen and waited for him to answer, which he did on the first ring.
“Hey, bro. What’s up?” Damon asked.
“Where the fuck have you been? I called you all night.”
Damon winced at the frustration in Austin’s voice. “I shut my phone off. Sorry.” He drew a deep breath. “I lost the appeal, didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry, Damon.”
His stomach tumbled at the news.
“We knew it was a long shot,” Austin was saying. “Without being able to argue the validity of the testing, we never really had a chance. They don’t call it a zero-tolerance policy for no reason.”
“Yeah.” Disappointment and rage warred within him. Even though he hadn’t done anything wrong, the suspension resulted in him letting his team down and he hated it.
“I’m out four games beginning with the start of the season. In a contract year.” He didn’t give a shit about the money penalty. Just about letting everyone down.
“Breathe, Damon. Ian knows you. He won’t base the contract offer on this situation.”
Damon ran a hand through his hair. “Ian has a salary cap and the reputation of himself and the team to worry about.”
“And we have Evie. Give her a call. Regroup. Come up with a plan. At least you’ll feel proactive.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’d rather drink myself stupid.”
“Except it’s seven in the morning, not to mention it’s not good for your body or your concussion. Just calm down and we’ll deal with this. I promise.”
“Thanks.” Damon disconnected the call, feeling sick. Knowing what and who he needed, he picked up the phone and texted Evie.
* * *
As Evie waited outside with her neighbors, she glanced at her phone. A little after seven a.m. It buzzed and she turned it over, glancing at the screen to see a text from Damon.
Damon: Morning, sunshine.
She grinned and texted back: Morning
Damon: Checking in.
Evie: I’m fine. Gas leak at my building. Standing outside.
Damon: Keep an eye out around you. I’m coming.
She wanted to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t. She’d grabbed her gun for just the possibility that John decided to mix into the crowd.
No need to come, she typed, but there was no read confirmation beneath the words.
Her stomach flipped at the possibility of seeing him, and she lectured herself about how crazy those unwanted feelings were. He was a client. She couldn’t let herself give in, because she’d sworn off men after she’d misjudged John so badly.
“Evie! Evie!” her brother Mack yelled, finding her in the crowd.
“Mack!” She waved and he met up on the grass. “What’s wrong in the building? Do you know?” she asked, realizing he’d probably heard the news on his police scanner.