“It seemed like you could have been. What happened?” Loki asks.
“I sent her away, and she got pissed, end of story.”
Shaking his head, Loki reaches for a glass the waiter just set in front of him and pours himself a drink. Reaching over for my phone, he casually palms it, and I see he has stuck something to the bottom. No other person would have noticed.
“Scrambler,” he informs me, and I realize the device he placed is so we can talk freely without being picked up through my phone. “I will only say this once, Trevor, so listen carefully. You have spent the last ten years barely living. You have to cut this shit out. We will right all the wrongs of your past, I promise you. But, if you don’t figure out how to let the past go, what’s the fucking point? Your mother would not want you living this way, and you know it.”
“Fuck you, Loki,” I say, downing a fifty-dollar glass of scotch.
“Yeah, fuck me. But fuck you too. This is not your fight, Trevor, I told you that from the beginning. I appreciate you helping us like this because it will be a hell of a lot easier, but the sins of your father are not your own.”
Fuck me. That sentence repeats in my head a hundred times a day. The sins of your father are not your own. Except, this time, they are.
I realize I have zoned out in my own thoughts for a few seconds, but Loki has kept talking.
“You have to live your life, and not just for yourself but for your mother's memory. If you clam up like you did when you received that text message on the dance floor, you will fuck this up for us all,” he scolds.
This gets my attention. “What are you talking about?”
“Everyone reads body language, Trevor. Anyone watching you on that dance floor saw your demeanor change as soon as I sent the text. You can’t do that shit—it will alert them to what’s going on. Once can be played off, but you do it again, and they’ll be on to you faster than you can say fuck it.”
“Jesus, Loki. Am I cut out for this?”
“In any other situation, I would say you are too close, but I know you, and I know your determination, that is why you are here right now. This is personal to you, use that to keep yourself in check. Think about the end goal here,” he tells me.
“What do I do? How do I make it through this week?”
With a grin, he tells me what I don’t want to hear. “You seemed relaxed with that girl, what’s her name?”
“I don’t know, I just call her Angel,” I tell him. I know damn well he was listening to every second of our conversation, and it pisses me off. It feels like a betrayal, and as fucked up as it sounds, I hate the idea of betraying her.
“Did you fuck it up with her, or can you see her again?” he asks.
“No. I’m not endangering her, Loki. What the fuck, why would you even suggest it?” I’m pissed. He is the professional here, what the hell is he thinking?
Sighing, he takes another sip of his scotch. “Trevor, spending time with her will not endanger her. Especially not right now.” Leaning in, he lowers his voice. “Do you have any fucking idea how many agents are stationed in this city right now? Jesus, she is safer with you than she would be walking the city on her own.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. Holy shit, did I just ruin my chances of having Angel? For how long, asshat? She doesn’t even want your name; she’s just looking for a one-night stand! If she only wants a one-night stand, it will be with me then. God, she is already rubbing off on me. When have I ever held a conversation with myself? The thought has me grinning like a goddamn fool.
“I don’t even want to know what just played out in that head of yours,” Loki tells me, laughing.
“You honestly think it's safe to spend time with her this week?” I ask again.
“Yes, Trevor. I do.” His confidence gives me hope.
Pulling at my neck, I let the smile I’ve been holding in break free. “Fuck, I’ve got to find this girl.”
“I know someone that can help with that,” Loki smirks.
“No, thank you. I don’t want you or your guys anywhere near her. She has her reasons, I have mine. I don’t want you looking into her at all, okay?”
Raising his hands, “Alright, man, it’s all you. I’m out!” Finishing his drink, he stands and claps me on the back. “See you around.”
“Yup,” I reply, already lost in thought. I signal the waiter.
“Can I have the check, please?”
“Yes, sir. Here you go.”
I don’t even look at it, just hand him a credit card. My mind is already making a list of ways to get Angel to talk to me again.
Stepping off the elevator, I swear I can smell her. I don’t know if her scent is stuck to me or if she leaves a trail wherever she goes, but the knowledge that she is on this floor has me walking at a snail's pace through the hall. I’m hoping to hear her, so I pause for a second at each door. When did you turn into such a fucking stalker?
My shoulders sag as I get to my room at the end of the hallway. I didn’t find which room was hers, and it upsets me. Sliding my key into the door, I hear her, and my entire body freezes. No fucking way. Looking to my left, I pause. Is it possible she is in the room next to mine or am I hallucinating?
“Can you believe that shit? Who the hell does that? Motherfucker! Seriously! He got me all worked up, then sent me on my way like a toddler. I bet he has a small pecker, anyway. Oh, who am I kidding? I totally felt it when we were dancing. That fucking thing would have broken me for sure. GAH! That’s it, I hate him. Yup, he is off my list. I don’t care if I see him again or not. My mission is on. Tomorrow, I’m having a one-night stand with someone, anyone. But not him. Nope, not Charlie. He is a douche canoe. I hope he has to sit through all my presentations and watch as I fucking kill it, then I’ll walk right by and ignore him. Yup, that’s my plan…”
She is on a roll, so I let myself into my room, knowing there is a door connecting our suites. Grabbing a glass and the bottle I bought at the bar, I pull up a chair to sit at the entrance to listen. I know it’s wrong, but I want to know everything I can about this girl, and I don’t have much time. We will both leave Boston at the end of the week and go our separate ways because we have to. I need this week with her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it perfect.
Realizing she said she was presenting, I’m tempted to pull up the list they gave me when I checked in, but don’t. I kind of like the game we have going on. No one can get hurt this way. It seems like a win-win. I know I’m lying to myself, but I do it anyway. I told her if things were different, I wouldn’t let her go; the truth in that statement scares the living shit out of me.
Chapter 8
-The Man, Taylor Swift
Julia
Beep*Beep*Beep*
“Nooooo,” I moan. I hate mornings.
*Beep*Beep*Beep*
“What the fuck?” I can’t help but spew when I realize it isn’t even my alarm going off. Rolling over, I grab my phone. 4:45 am. “Who the hell gets up this early?” I have forty-five minutes before my own alarm goes off, so I try to go back to sleep.