Chapter 24 Episode 24

She stiffens a little, probably contemplating whether she should lie or just tell the truth. “Yes. It makes me feel good.” “Makes sense,” I say sarcastically, causing her expression to twist into annoyance. But I can see through her. I can see the self-consciousness she’s trying to mask. I c**k my head to the side. “I’m the wrong man to f**k with, Jessa.” She stiffens slightly, but she maintains her position. “I’m not giving up the phone.” “What did I tell you?” I say calmly. “You crave the drama.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Stop trying to pull reverse psychology on me. It won’t work.” “What will work?” I ask, moving around her coffee table so that I’m standing right in front of her. “Nothing,” she says. “I can’t be bought.” “What about seduced?” I ask. “Can you be seduced?” She betrays herself by jerking away from me so violently that not even she can deny the response. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “You’re overestimating your effect on me,” she mumbles, but there’s no sting in her voice when she says it. I reach out and brush my fingers across her lips. The shudder that rolls through her body is subtle but unmistakable. “No, I don’t think I am.” I move closer and she backs away immediately. “What’s the matter, Jessa? Doubting your resolve?” She glares at me. “I think I prefer when you’re threatening my life.” I smile. “I can see why. That affected you much less than this.” I stroke her cheek with the back of my knuckles, leaving a hot blush when I withdraw my hand. The whole time, she stares up at me with those f**k me eyes, never blinking, never looking away. I guide her backwards until there’s nowhere left to go, trapping her between myself and the window. Our hips meet flush. I’m hard as a rock and I don’t mind her knowing. “Give me back my phone,” I rasp. “I don’t have it on me,” she says, but her voice wavers. “I told you yesterday that I would be back for it. Did you not believe me?” “Maybe I just decided not to listen.” My eyes flare. I lean closer. Inches apart now. The tension is a physical thing in the air. A scent, a crackle, a tightness in my chest. A small gasp escapes her lips. She wants to push me away, but she doesn’t trust what she might do if she touches me. “What is?” she asks defensively. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you truly scared.” She looks skeptical for a moment. “I’d say I was pretty scared when you murdered an innocent man in cold blood.” I chuckle. “‘Innocent man’? Kotyonok, what about him read as innocent to you?” I can see her head spinning and I laugh. “You assume because he died, he’s a victim? He was a f*****g arms dealer, Jessa. He’s killed more people than I have.” She frowns. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t make what you did right.” “I never said it did. I assure you, I am not the good guy in this or any story. But neither was he.” She shakes her head like that’ll change the facts of the situation. “If I give you back that phone, then I’m a sitting duck. You can kill me just like you killed him.” I push my groin against hers. Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t address the heat catapulting between our bodies. “Why would I kill you, beautiful girl? It’d be a waste.” I lean in so close that our noses are almost touching. “I’m going to ask one more f*****g time—” The thud of footsteps outside the apartment has my ears pricking up. Then comes the pounding of authoritative knocks on the door. She jerks, her eyes shooting past me. “What did you do?” I growl. But I can see it in her eyes: she’s not quite sure what’s happening, either. “Whoever is on the other side of this door, you better play along,” I threaten her. The defiance in her eyes is unmistakable. “I don’t think you have much to bargain with right now.” Another flurry of knocks, loud and fast and insistent. BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM. I give her a smile. “Your parents’ names are Connie and Brandon Gilmore,” I say quietly. “They live at 27 St. Michaels Street. Did I get that right?” She freezes, but I don’t wait for her expression to catch up with the threat I’ve just made. I untuck my shirt and undo the top couple of buttons. Then I remove my shoes and place them next to the sofa. “What the hell are you doing?” she demands, frowning at me. “Grab me a beer from the fridge, will you, honey?” I call nonchalantly as I head towards the door. I know what that kind of knocking means. And sure enough, I’m not surprised when I pull the door open and I’m faced with two policemen from the local precinct. The older of the two is thin, with graying hair underneath his hat and a hard gleam in his eyes. The younger one is significantly larger in every direction, and he has that pasty, uncertain look of incompetence. “Officers?” I say, feigning shock. “Is there a problem?” The older one looks uncomfortable. “Evening, sir. I’m Officer Lewiston. This is Officer Branagh. We received a call about a domestic disturbance in this apartment.” I glance back at Jessa. “Honey, do you have any idea what these officers are talking about?” Jessa looks shell-shocked, but that works well for the situation. My eyes meet hers and I know she understands the choice she has before her. She turns her gaze to the cops. “I’m afraid not,” she says, coming forward. I turn to both men. “Yeah, me neither. I just got home a few minutes ago. And my girlfriend and I were just about to sit down to dinner. There was no disturbance of any kind. Not from us, at least. You sure you got the right apartment?” I infuse my tone with just the right amount of chagrin. The amount that suggests that I am intensely insulted by the accusation that I could be responsible for hurting any woman. The officers exchange a glance. “Uh, we are sorry for the inconvenience, sir. But would it be possible for us to… look around?” I stare at them for a moment, waiting for them to say anything else. When they don’t, I laugh. “Are you serious?” Still playacting with a frown, I turn towards Jessa. She hesitates only a second before she walks up to me and slips her hand around my elbow. The gesture is natural, like she’s done it a thousand times before. Maybe she’s fantasized it. “I’m sorry, officers—there must have been some sort of mistake,” she says. “But we understand that you’re just doing your jobs. So if you need to look around, please feel free.” Both men look at me warily. I step to the side and allow them to enter the apartment. It’s clear within seconds that there’s nothing amiss inside. There’s half a pizza on the coffee table and my shoes lying where I tossed them beside the sofa. “As I said,” I tell them, “I just got home from work. Who did you say made the call?” “I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to say, sir.” I glance at Jessa. “Could it be possible that Dane did this?” Her mouth drops open. “Dane?” I turn to the cops. “Her ex-boyfriend,” I say with a regretful expression. “Or ex-fiancé, rather. The two of them had a messy breakup and… let’s just say he wasn’t very happy to hear that Jessa had moved on so fast.” Both cops are beginning to look more and more uncomfortable. “We’re really sorry about this, sir,” Lewiston says. “But when we get this kind of call, it’s our duty to check it out. Make sure nothing is amiss.” I sigh. “Of course. I understand. You’re just doing your job. I’m sorry for being short. I just… it’s been a long day and I don’t like the implication that I would ever… that I could… hurt my girl.” “Of course, sir. No man does,” Lewiston says, even as he looks around. The second cop, Branagh, is observing Jessa carefully. She’s standing by my side avoiding everybody’s eyes, which is not helping us look carefree and innocent. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her against my body. It’s an easy gesture to make—shockingly easy, actually. Then I press a kiss to the side of her forehead, close enough that I can whisper to her, “You’ve gotta do better than that.” She stiffens for a split second, but then she recovers remarkably well. “Can I get you officers anything?” “No, thank you, ma’am,” Lewiston says at the same time Branagh says, “That would be great.” Lewiston throws his junior a disgusted glare. “We’re really not supposed to eat or drink on the job.” I give them both a smile. “Don’t worry—we won’t tell.” I head over to the kitchen, moving around with all apparent familiarity. I open the fridge and take a quick glance inside. “We’ve got some orange juice, but I can also offer you guys a cup of coffee?” “No, we really shouldn’t…” Lewiston says, but he’s sounding less and less convincing. “Please,” I insist. “It’s the least we can do after you were dragged out here for nothing.” “Well…” Lewiston sighs. “Alright. I’ll take a coffee.”