I shook my head. "Nope. He was let out on a fucking technicality. His little hideout was a known hideout for other thieves and con men, too, and it left enough reasonable doubt. We haven’t spoken since.”
I ground my teeth thinking about the first time we'd seen Rian. It had been at the Notting Hill fair. She had the prettiest smile I'd ever seen. Her hair had fallen in soft wavy curls down her back, and she had an olive complexion and lips that were almost a little too full and wide for her face. Her pert nose and that dimple when she smiled instantly attracted me. From the moment I saw her, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I had been working up my nerve to go and talk to her. Next thing I knew, I came back from the loo and Max had his arm around her already, staking his claim. And I knew compared to me, Max was sunshine and light. Hard to resist.
Liam leaned on his pool cue as I took my final shot. “So, what are you going to do with the girl?”
“You mean besides make her so miserable she wants to leave?”
They both exchanged glances. Like I was being daft. Alex cleared his throat. “Do you really think that’s going to work? Maybe just get her assigned to a different division.”
I missed my bloody shot and Alex smirked as he leaned over and sunk it easily. “Look, get her recommended to marketing. Or on scout sighting. That will take her out of London a lot.”
“Oh yeah, and how am I supposed to pull that off exactly?”
Liam shrugged. “Talk to one of the lads.”
I knew they were trying to help, but they were making it worse. I needed her gone. But I also needed it to be her idea. Rian and I were playing an intense game of chicken, and it mattered who blinked first. “First of all, I’m not talking to one of them. The whole point is to show that we’re learning and evolving and becoming what they need us to be. I’m not running to them with my bullshit problems. I can think of other ways to be rid of her.”
"Fine. Do you have a plan for getting her gone?” Liam asked.
I slid him a glance that said, do you even know me? I had a plan. Make her miserable and she’d leave. Okay fine, I needed to work out the details of my plan.
Alex sunk his corner shot. “Maybe this is still salvageable. You could try to talk to her again. Be less hostile this time.”
Less hostile. "If I’m less hostile, she won’t leave. That’s the goal.”
“You know, you can't just tell her you don't want to know her. You attract more bees with honey. If you'd have just talked to her and told her what you needed your life to look like, she might have complied. But no, you just antagonized her."
I frowned. "I might have, um…" I stopped myself.
"You might have what?"
I wasn't telling them. There would be no end to the shit they would give me. "Fine. I might have gone a little overboard."
Alex nodded. "Then fix it. Simple. Go in tomorrow and let her know that you approached the situation like a complete knobhead. Say you're sorry and you can't wait to work together."
"Except, I don't want to work with her."
He laughed. "Oh God, this is going to be fun watching you."
"What do you mean?"
"Your brother's ex that you have a thing for is now your workmate, and you are trying to pretend you hate her. How do you think that's going to go?"
I scowled. "It's going to go fine. Everything will be fucking fine."
He nodded. "Yeah, if you say so. Do me a favor. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"I don't need to be warned. I know my shit completely."
They both laughed at that, and Liam said, "Yeah, okay. I'll believe it when I see it."
Rian
My heart pounded as I ran through the crowd. I could see the shadow behind me, following me. The familiar shape. He was coming for me. He would never stop, ever. I was going to be stuck in the prison of my own fear. Never free.
There I was, rooted. In a crowd, but feeling completely isolated. Because he had his sights on me. And when we locked eyes, I had no choice but to run. But it was too late. He was chasing me, running after me, coming for me.
And all because he knew. He knew that I hadn't loved him. And he was going to make me pay.
All I could do was run, force my body into action and run away, be safe and stay hidden. Except, there was no safety. There was no staying hidden. Max Wexler had found me.
Except, as I banged on the doors of the storefronts I passed, no one would let me in. All the windows were darkened, closed for the day. Except for one that was illuminated up ahead.
It was open and brightly lit and if I could just get to it, I’d be safe. When I reached the window I peered inside, and I could see my father. All I had to do was reach him. I knocked on the glass, begging him, “Daddy, please see me, please look up and see me. Daddy, please, please, please, please, please. But no. He didn't look up. He kept eating.
And then Max was there behind me. "Did you think you could run?"
I screamed. I kept screaming. And finally my father looked up, meeting my gaze. But instead of coming to my rescue, instead of opening his arms, getting up, coming to hug me, to hold me, to tell me I was going to be okay, he scowled at me. His eyes full of contempt, hatred. And he went right back to his meal.
"Please, God. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, please. Please help me."
He looked up and picked up his phone. He was calling the police. Of course, he was calling the police. He had to be.
Except, he wasn't.
The men in white coats pulled up. They’d come for me with their injections and their pills. I tried to run, tried to fight them off. But Max was helping them, trying to shove me into their white van. And all the while my father stood by as they shoved me in a cage. His cold flat eyes condemning me even as I fought.
I woke with a start, my heart racing, my breath dragging out in ragged pants. I tapped the injection site and clutched my body, checking that everything was where I expected it to be. “Fuck. Fuck.”
You know this means you need to call Dr. McAllister. Your mind is playing tricks on you. It's time to call him. You gave up your meds.
I knew what I should do. I should call the doctor and let him know that the anxiety was back. Get new meds, readjust, start over. Except I couldn't. Not after what DI Jones had said. A desperate, frantic part of my mind wanted to believe that I hadn’t been wrong.
There was that part of me that still stubbornly believed that I was right. That the doctors and my father were the ones who were wrong.
I knew that was the kind of negative thinking that wasn't going to help me. Dr. McAllister had told me a million times. But still, I couldn't let it go. There was a part of my brain that refused to accept that maybe, just maybe, my version of events wasn't accurate.
But I knew what I saw. And even though I played the part, said the right words, I couldn't let it go. I refused to accept it. I'd learned to say the right things so that they didn't think I was crazy for real. But…
God, they didn't know Max. I did. And I was sure I'd seen him.
The question was, could I prove it? Did I want to? How had he found me?
Or your father and Dr. McAllister were right.
Instead of trying to parse out what fragments of my brain remained intact, I tucked my duvet back around me, shivering into the folds. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. There was no way Max Wexler was at the party tonight. I wasn't going to let myself get dragged back into that situation where no one believed me but I was certain I was right.