No.
No.
I’m not going there.
This is about Easton. Moving onward and upward. Reclaiming my moral high ground instead of slumming it in the streets.
I suck in a deep breath and regroup, relaxing my muscles one at a time—jaw, shoulders, stomach. I force myself to focus on the handsome man before me with his warm tan and gelled hair.
Finally, my throat tightens with anticipation. My mouth dries. I lick my lips to ease the discomfort and steel myself against what I’m about to instigate.
I’m going to do this. One kiss. One test.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He turns his face to mine, his gaze gentle. “You seem different tonight.”
“Yeah…” I nod. “I’m super.”
Super?
Fuck me. Who the hell is this ditsy airhead and where did the Bureau bitch rush off to?
I’m not flighty or meek.
I’ve made fearless criminals cry with subtle threats and intimidation. At least, I used to. Now those moments seem like a lifetime ago.
“Super?” He quirks a brow. “Maybe you should lay off the—”
My cell buzzes from my jeans pocket, the vibration sinking into my pelvis. For a moment, it feels like a sign. I’m just not sure what kind—affirmation or a blinding veto.
The vibration doesn’t stop. The buzz, buzz, buzz adds to the awkwardness.
He grins. “Are you going to answer that?”
“Should I?” I pause.
He raises a brow and shrugs, the heat returning to his eyes.
It’s daunting. The chemistry is all off.
“Just give me a sec.” I pull out my phone, suddenly appreciating the disturbance, only to have my pulse stop at the name on the screen.
The Devil.
My heart shoots to my throat, choking me.
All those flames I’d yearned for with Easton—all the thrill and chemistry—engulf me.
“Who is it?” he murmurs.
I reject the call and shove the cell into my pocket. “Nobody.”
Nobody I’m going to continue fixating on.
Nobody I can succumb to.
I settle back into the sofa, my pulse taking long moments to find its normal rhythm while I stare blankly at the television.
Did I just conjure a phone call to get out of moving on? Or did Cole perfectly time the interruption at the very moment I was trying to expunge him from my life, like a freaky coincidence?
No, not a coincidence. A succinctly scheduled intrusion.
Has that fucker bugged my apartment?
I shove to my feet, my eagle eyes frantically scanning my furnishings. If there’s a camera in here, I’ll run him down in my car and reverse a couple of times. I’ll shoot and dismember and mutilate.
“What is it?” Easton sits forward. “Who was it?”
“Nothing… Nobody.” I rush for the television cabinet and run my fingers over the back of the screen, then the nearby lamp, and the curtains.
My cell vibrates again, the ongoing buzz announcing another call.
I snatch for the device, The Devil taunting me again.
“What’s going on?” Easton pushes from the sofa, his gentle steps approaching. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
The wildfire continues to overwhelm me in scorching flames. Head to foot. Organs to nerves.
Even with the threat of Cole yet again breaching my privacy, my body awakens at the mere thought of him being in my home. Touching my things. Paying me attention.
Not Stockholm syndrome, my ass.
If this doesn’t scream certifiable, what does?
“Anissa?” Easton stops at my side as the call ends. “Why is he calling you?”
I keep my gaze locked on the cell, asking myself the same question.
I didn’t speak much to Cole last night. I couldn’t. We weren’t alone. There were only a few barbed words to fill the silence before I left Penny in his capable hands. But there’d been unfinished business between us. There has been since Greece—I’ve just refused to let him close enough to carry on the madness.
One hurdle at a time, please, Satan.
“It’s probably nothing.” I guide a stray strand of hair behind my ear and nod to myself. “He probably wants to give me an update on what happened last night.”
“What do you mean, last night?” Easton’s voice thickens with tension. “What happened?”
I sidestep, moving around him to walk to the kitchen. “There was an incident with a mutual contact. I got to the scene before he did.”
“You got to the scene?” He enunciates the words slowly. “You saw him? Is that why you’re an emotional wreck today?”
“I’m not a wreck.” I trudge to the fridge, pull open the door, and grab another beer. “I’m tired. That’s all.”
“Don’t lie to me. You’re showing the same crazy upheaval from a few weeks ago. And yet again, he’s the cause.” He stalks toward me, holding out a hand. “Give me the cell and I’ll block his number.”
“No.” My denial is too fast. Too defensive. I can’t help it. “I can handle this on my own.”
“Like hell you can. You’re not sleeping. Not exercising. Not working. Pretty soon the Bureau is going to write you off completely, then you won’t have a job to return to. All for what?” He scans me with pained eyes. “What did he do to you, Nis?”
Oh, God. That nickname is foul on his lips.
An abomination.
Cole was the first person to ever call me Nis, Nissa, and even Nissie. I’d been his little fox, too. Yet the same endearment from a friend sounds sacrilegious.
“You know what he did,” I lie. “He humiliated me. He made me his alibi when his father escaped custody.”
“The time for bullshitting is over. We both know there’s more to it than that. You disappeared for days. You fell off the face of the fucking planet and returned a different person.”
I did.
Cole changed me.
“I—”
My cell vibrates again, this time short and sharp with a text.
The Devil: We need to speak. Now.
I grimace, wanting to comply with every breath and loath to do it at the same time.
“I’m turning it off.” I press the power button and hold up the device for Easton to see. “I’m ignoring him.” I turn away, placing the cell on the counter, my stomach resting against the cool laminate as a jittery discomfort eats away at me.
I want those phone calls. I crave more texts. Everything inside me screams for Cole’s attention but I have to deny myself.
I grab my beer, twist off the cap, and down half the contents before gasping for air.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” Easton comes up behind me. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid.” I take another gulp, eager for more liquid to douse Cole’s flames while the hair on the back of my neck rises.
“Did he hurt you?”
Yes. “No.”
“Did he scare you?”
Yes. “No.”
“Are you searching for retribution?”
I sigh, unsure of my answer.
I want so many things from Cole—answers being my most prominent wish. It kills me to have no understanding of how I went from hating a man to willingly sleeping with him within the space of days.