Being home feels alien.
Cormac was true to his word and had Hank drop me home within the hour. He remained parked by the sidewalk until I’d let myself inside and closed the door, then he left and suddenly, I was all alone.
It’s exactly what I asked for, but as I stand in the middle of my cold kitchen with three-day-old dishes in the sink threatening to become a biohazard, I suddenly hate it. The air is cold and the silence is too silent. I hadn’t realized just how much I had enjoyed being around other people not related to my work for the past few days, even if it had been terrifying.
That has to be a trick of the mind, right? There’s no way I’m missing being kidnapped. It was the most insane, surreal experience of my life. And yet, finding the body remains the worst part. Not the kidnap, not the gun in my face or Cormac’s threat on my life, and definitely not the sex.
The sight of that body is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
After lingering in the chill of my kitchen for a few long minutes, I retreat into the shower and dispose of the clothes Hank lent me. I briefly remember that they still have my work uniform, and my heart sinks. Gerald isn’t going to be happy when I ask for a replacement.
In the lukewarm heat of my low-pressure shower, my mind spins over the events of the last few days. The body, the kidnapping, lying to the police, planting bugs on that nice detective, and then fucking a member of the Irish Mob. It’s like someone else was living inside my body these past few days because never in a million years did I think I had the guts to do something like that. Maybe the threat on my life was enough to unlock this bold new criminal side of me.
Would a jury be sympathetic if I were caught?
I picture myself on the stands trying to tell them how terrified I was when I did those things, but then my pussy throbs as I move and I’m reminded of how easily I spread my legs for him. There’s no denying how hot Cormac was, and watching him beat up Dillon was one of the hottest things I have ever seen. He did everything I wished I could do each time Dillon cornered me.
I slip a hand between my wet thighs and close my eyes, bringing up the memory of what Cormac felt like when he was over the top of me, buried inside me like it was where he belonged. No one had fucked me like that in my life and the ache he left behind was delicious. Temptation warms my core as I delicately stroke my clit, but it’s just not the same.
Maybe he really has ruined me for anyone else, my own fingers included.
Dejected, I wrap up my shower and dress in my fluffiest robe then call for food from my favorite Vietnamese restaurant. It also makes me think of Cormac and how quickly he learned about my life. Did he think I was pathetic, seeing how little I actually lived?
The receptionist confirms my order as I drop onto my couch, and I’m about to spend the next twenty minutes scrolling through social media feeds that I stare at and never interact with when a message comes from Gerald.
You’re fired.
Short. Sweet. To the point.
My heart plummets and a hundred questions flood my mind. What the hell did I do? Is this because I missed work for one day? Or did he see what happened to Dillon and deem me the cause? As much as my exhausted mind demands an answer, I don’t have the heart to text him back.
At least I don’t need to worry about the uniform anymore.
But it puts me in a precarious position. Without income, I won’t be able to keep this apartment, never mind pay off my debts. I glance at my calendar and groan. Rent is due in three days and I can guarantee Gerald won’t pay me on time, so there’s only one person I can call.
My mother.
“Hello?” My mom always talks as if she has a hard candy tucked inside her cheek that she’d much rather be sucking on than talking, and no matter what age I am, it always makes my stomach drop out of my ass.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Evelyn! About time.”
“Huh?”
“Where were you? You were supposed to be here last night to help me with the delivery of my new closet. Now I have a wooden monstrosity stuck in my lounge because you couldn’t honor an agreement with your own mother!”
Shit.
That completely slipped my mind.
“Mom, I’m so sorry. I was…” I pause. Can I tell her the truth? “Mom, something happened.”
“I don’t want to hear more about your reckless spending habits,” Mom snaps.
“No, it’s not that. At the motel where I work there was—”
“Did you get fired?” she barks. “I knew it. You can’t commit to anything, Evelyn. I told you that you aren’t built for the workplace. You need to find yourself a decent man, settle down, and start a family!”
My mind immediately turns to Cormac. He’s clearly much older than me. Mom would have a heart attack if she knew.
“I wasn’t fired,” I lie smoothly. “There was an accident. Someone died, so I had to spend a lot of time talking to the police. That’s why I couldn’t come and help you.”
Suddenly, my mom is incredibly interested. She begins questioning me with the enthusiasm of a crime podcast and we talk long into the night about the gory details. Part of me feels guilty explaining what I saw while knowing how much it pains Cormac, but it’s nice to talk it out with someone who isn’t involved. It’s also the longest conversation I’ve had with my mother in months, and she goes for two hours without berating me in any way.
By the time the call ends, I’m full of my favorite dumplings and utterly exhausted. I collapse into bed and sleep for a solid sixteen hours.
Waking up alone in my apartment is strange. There’s a strange new loneliness in my heart that I hadn’t ever noticed before. As I go about my day—starting with asking Mom if I can borrow rent money, then poring over every job listing I can get my hands on—my heart lingers on Cormac.
He’s the cause of my distress.
The way he spoke to me. The way he grabbed me and pinned me down as he fucked me like his very life depended on being inside me. The way he protected me from Dillon. In a few short hours, he showed me more love and dedication than anyone has ever shown me in my life, and instead of following that feeling, I chose to leave. So now I exist with this strange, new, lonely ache in my chest about what could have been.
And then I curse myself. It’s not normal to want that, right? The man kidnapped me, for crying out loud. I should want to get as far away from him as possible.
If only I could stop thinking about him.
The next few days pass in a blur of job applications, promising my mom that she can set me up on blind dates in exchange for rent money, and drinking away the last of my savings. For two nights straight, sleep escapes me until I down a bottle of wine. Luckily, the wine sends me right off to sleep before I can act on the urge to call the number Cormac gave me back at the motel.
He’s probably changed it by now. In fact, he’s most definitely not thinking about me at all. A man like that wouldn’t get this hung up on a random woman he met, and I shouldn’t be either.
But he’s like a drug, swimming around my thoughts just out of sight.
Friday night rolls around, and I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I send off my rent payment. That’s one less worry for the next month. Unfortunately, none of the jobs I’ve applied for have gotten back to me, so with my last bottle of wine sitting next to me, I pull up countless job websites and begin the search for the umpteenth time.
After a few hours, I wonder if I can hire out my basic services as a bug planter. Crime pays, right?
Deep in thought, the sudden rapid, loud knocking at my front door makes me jump out of my skin. I glance at the clock. It’s eight at night and I haven’t ordered food. Who the hell is that?
Climbing out of the nest of blankets I created on the floor, I hurry toward the front door. It’s impossible to stop my mind from leaping to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it’s Cormac.
I can’t think of a reason he’d come to visit, but he’s the only person I can think of since I never get visitors.
The knocking comes again as I hurry down the hallway. “Hold on!” I call, pausing to adjust my hair and sort my clothes. Fuck. Well, he saw me at my worst when I was sobbing in that chair, so what I look like now is surely a huge improvement.
My heart races while I unlock the door, then I pull it open with an expectant smile.
My smile fades instantly.
It’s not Cormac.
The man on my doorstep grins a gap-toothed smile and flicks a cigarette out of his fingers onto the step below. He stamps it out with crocodile leather boots and shoves his hand against the door before I can even contemplate closing it in his face.
“Hello, Evelyn.”
My gut knots instantly. “Harry. What are you doing here?”
“Take a guess.” He speaks slowly and leans in close so the last curls of cigarette smoke invade my lungs. I tighten my grip on the door, but Harry’s already pushing it open wider so he can step inside.
“I don’t have your money,” I say tightly. My heart begins to pound, filling my ears with a strange pulsating sound. “I told you I’d call when I had it.”
“You did,” Harry says and with one last shove, he forcefully pushes his way into my apartment. I have no choice. Releasing my grip on the door, I stumble backward as he straightens up and fills my hallway with his tall, thin form. The front door kicks closed behind him. “But you haven’t called.”
Cautiously, I step backward, trying to keep distance between us, but each time I move, Harry mirrors it with a step of his own.
“I don’t have your money,” I say, cursing internally when a tremble slips into my voice. “Not yet.”
Nine months ago, I was drowning in debt to more credit cards than I could keep track of. Bad spending habits plus a desire to feel loved through material means. The way store owners would light up when they saw me was a feeling I chased, as if any of their affection was real. When the banks repossessed my apartment because I couldn’t pay and threatened me with legal action, I did the only thing I could think of.
I went to a loan shark. Harry gave me enough money to pay off my entire debt and get this shitty new apartment. Then I only had to worry about paying off one person rather than five. But I was naive. A loan shark was not the answer. The interest Harry piled on top was enough to make me sick the first time he mentioned it.
“Not yet.” Harry tuts softly and sucks on his upper teeth. Suddenly, he flies forward and slams one hand around my throat while the other grabs a handful of my T-shirt. He uses that grip to slam me up against the wall, and fear lances through me like a knife.
“Harry—I’ll get you your money!” I gasp, clutching at his narrow arm that tenses each time he flexes his fingers around my throat.
“Will you?” Harry growls, shoving into me. “Little birdie told me you’ve been spending a lot of time at the police station. You wouldn’t be ratting me out now, sweetheart, would you?”
“No!” I gasp, fighting his tightening grip. I kick out my legs, but he shoves me higher up the wall so that I no longer touch the ground. “Harry—I wouldn’t! Please!”
Releasing his grip on my T-shirt, Harry strikes me across the face. My head snaps to the side and heat explodes through my cheek and jaw. He strikes me again and again until my ears are ringing and my head is spinning.
“Don’t lie to me!” he yells. “What the fuck were you doing down at the cop shop?”
“I’m not lying!” I beg while tears spring into my eyes. Warmth trickles down my cheek from my eyebrow and my gaze blurs. “I witnessed a crime at the motel and they were asking me about it, that’s all!” Each word is punched out of me with a desperate gasp for air.
“You’re lying!”
“No!” I weep as the sobs come. “Check the news—please, I need you, Harry. I wouldn’t report you, you know I wouldn’t!”
Harry strikes me again, and this time, he releases his grip on me so that the blow sends me crashing down to the floor with a yelp. He crouches down in front of me and grips my chin, then he tilts my head up to meet his eyes.
“You’d better not,” Harry says, his voice back to an eerie calmness. “Because you don’t want to find out what I do to rats, do you? A pretty thing like you? Credit card debt will be the least of your worries.”
“I’ll get your money,” I gasp. A full-body tremble takes over me, and I dig my fingertips into my thigh to try and control myself. “I just need more time—”
“No. I don’t trust you with the cops sniffing around. I’ve given you grace these past months, Evelyn, because I felt sorry for you.” Harry pats my bruised cheek and smiles coldly.
“You’ve got forty-eight hours to get my money. Either you pay me when I come back here, or I’ll kill you. Got it?”
