Dylan
MY GAMER FRIEND Quinton had my laptop. I called him, but he didn’t answer, so I left him a voice mail to get back to me as soon as he could. I had deleted the spreadsheet before I’d dropped the laptop off. I trusted Quinton and all, but I still wouldn’t have given him access to my company’s confidential budgets.
But I had backed up all of my documents on a small flash drive I stored in one of my snow globes, which was… sitting on the dresser. Addison (amazing little mind-reader she was) had somehow thought to bring it. The base of my dragon globe had cracked in one of my moves, enabling me to remove it from the globe and get to a secret compartment where I sometimes stashed things. I’d stuck my flash drive there, so I wouldn’t lose it or forget what I’d done with it while my laptop was getting repaired. I pulled it out and flipped it over in my hands a couple of times, reassuring myself that the spreadsheet had to be on it. If this was what the goons who’d broken into my apartment were looking for, it could clear my name. I just needed some quality time with my laptop and the drive to figure out what they were after. Until then, I stuck it back in the snow globe for safekeeping.
The minute Jake left, Addison glued herself to her peephole for as long as it took him to saunter to the elevator before turning on me. “Did you get in touch with Asher yet?”
Damn it. I’d known it was coming. After last night, I was honestly surprised she didn’t steal my phone while I was sleeping and fire off some ridiculous text professing my undying love for him.
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, like even the prospect of telling Asher how I felt about him wasn’t tying my stomach in knots. “I thought I’d let it play out naturally.”
She leveled a threatening glare at me. “Dylan…”
“What? I said I’d explore this thing between us. That does not mean throwing myself at him.”
“Communication is important. How will he know it’s game on if you don’t sound the whistle?” she asked.
“Game on?” I sighed, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. “I don’t want to play games. This would be so much easier if we were twelve again so I could just pass him a note, asking him to check yes if he wanted to go out. If not, we could both spit on our hands, shake, and pretend the whole thing never happened.”
Addison’s face scrunched up in disgust. “First of all… gross. Secondly, we tried that route! You chickened out and shredded the note, remember?”
“I didn’t chicken out. I reasoned that at twelve, neither of us was ready for a steady relationship. I tabled it.”
Addison picked my phone up off the coffee table and held it out to me. “Well, now you’re twenty-four and it’s time to un-table it.”
The phone buzzed in her hand and she was so startled she almost dropped it. She read the screen and a gigantic smile stretched across her face. “What do you know? It’s Ashey! He wants to know if you’re free for dinner.”
“What?” I asked. “You mean both of us, right? He wants to take us both to dinner.”
“Nope.” I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but her smile actually widened. “Just you.”
“Why?” I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Ohmigod, did you say something to him?”
“Nope.” Her fingers flew over the keys of my phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked, lunging to intercept it before she wrecked my life.
She dodged out of my reach, giggling. “Accepting, of course. You now have a dinner date with my brother. You’re welcome.” She handed me my phone. “Now… grab a coat. We’re gonna go find you something sexy to wear.”
Before I could even freak out about the prospect, my crazy and mostly evil friend was dragging me out the door.
Shopping was right up there with getting a root canal on my list of favorite things to do, but the brightness of Addison’s smile kept me from complaining too loudly at the onslaught of cutesy outfits she kept loading my arms with. My friend had her heart set on more than shopping, though. After I finally agreed on an ensemble, she whisked me away to the hair salon, followed immediately by a trip to get facials.
“This is too much,” I tried to tell her more than once.
She shushed me, and reminded me that I’d promised to let her help.
“I meant with the trial,” I said.
“Oh honey, that case is the least messed up part of your life. Let me help you with everything.”
Offended but unable to argue with her since she spoke the truth, I reluctantly gave in. By the time six p.m. rolled around, I was standing in front of Addison’s full-length mirror, staring at a stranger. I wore a brown suede dress that hugged and enhanced every curve, paired with a matching jacket and my cowboy boots (the boots were Addison’s way of proving she could negotiate). Nothing shy of witchcraft could explain what the professional makeup artist had done to my face, but if my eyes were any smokier, they’d probably give me cancer. My hair was styled in some half up-half down do with a complex braid and big, soft curls, making me feel like I was on my way to prom.
“He’s taking me to dinner,” I said. “He probably didn’t even mean for it to be a date.”
“Right, because he’s taken you to dinner alone before,” Addison replied.
“He probably wants to discuss the case. He’s going to show up and see me dressed like this and things are gonna get awkward fast.”
“Trust me, when Ashey sees you in that dress, he’s gonna back you up against the wall, slide his hand up the hem, and slip those undies right off of you.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she shuddered. We both did.
“What kind of smut books have you been reading, Addie?” I asked, appalled.
“Yeah, gross, scratch that. I can’t even entertain the thought of you and my brother having sexual sexy time. It’s worse than my parents.”
“But you can entertain the thought of some man doing that to me who isn’t your brother?” I challenged.
She raised a hand to her mouth. “In my defense, I was actually imagining Jake.”
“Backing me up against a wall and removing my panties?” I asked, wanting to have a little fun with my clearly flustered friend. “Or removing Asher’s panties? Because that takes this to a whole new level.”
“No! Ew! Gross!” Addison stomped her foot in frustration, and I couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of laughter. “Ohmigod, I hate you so much right now.”
I nodded. “I know. But it’s so easy to mess with you when you’re like this.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “Whatever, Satan’s spawn. I’m trying to reassure you that you look beautiful and my brother is going to love your outfit... not so much the boots, but everything else.”
I let her snarky comment about my boots go and asked, “What if he just wants to go for burgers or something?” Couldn’t she see there were a million ways this could turn out horribly?
“Then he’ll change plans. Why don’t you trust me, Dylan?”
“I do, I just…” I didn’t trust myself. Before I could get that out, though, there was a knock on the door.
“Addie? Dylan?” Asher called out.
My stomach clenched. “I think I have to go to the bathroom.”
“No you don’t. You’re not climbing out the bathroom window and escaping.” She turned and called out, “We’ll be right there, Ashey. Have a seat.”
I would have loved to lie and say that wasn’t my plan, but Addison knew me far too well for that. With no escape route, I took a deep breath and looked back at my reflection.
“You can do this,” Addison said, squeezing my shoulders before she led me out to the living room.
Asher was still wearing his work suit, which made me feel a little better about being so dressed up. He stood when we entered, his eyes widening as he looked me over. “Wow, Dylan, you look… amazing.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Addison asked, grinning.
“I… yeah. Wow.”
Okay, so I didn’t dress up that often, but was it really that much of a change? The more I thought about it, the more I realized yes, it was. What if he liked this me more than the real me? What if he expected me to dress like this and employ witches to craft my face and hair all the time? I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t even want to. This was all a huge mistake. “Thanks.”
“You ready to go?” he asked.
We both hugged Addison, and then Asher grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. He and I had held hands lots of times as kids but it had been years, and I sure as heck didn’t remember the contact causing little bolts of electricity to shoot up my arm. Opening the passenger seat of his well-equipped BMW 750i, he waited while I slid inside and melted into the soft leather. My car was a beat-up twenty-year-old Honda Civic with more miles on it than my great-grandma, whereas Asher’s car had probably cost more than my lifetime salary. He took me to the Portland City Grill, where he apparently had a window seat reserved. I’d come to the PCG a few times with Addison, but tried to avoid it since my price range was more grilled cheese sandwiches than crab stuffed halibut. I felt my eyes bulge at the prices.
“My treat, Dylan. I invited you.”
I wanted to argue, but I could tell this was as important to Asher as it was to Addison—my crazy, generous friends. “Okay. But only if I get to treat you next time. Not to somewhere like this, of course, but I’m tellin’ you the Grilled Cheese Grill is way underrated.”
He chuckled. “Deal.”
Eating was difficult because of the way my stomach kept reacting to Asher’s proximity, but I made it through. We talked about upcoming movies we wanted to see, Asher’s job, sprucing up my resume, pretty much everything we could think of without mentioning the murder case. The whole day felt like a much-needed break from reality, and by the time we got back to Asher’s car, my stomach was borderline calm.
“I had a really great time tonight,” he said, parking in Addison’s garage.
“I did too.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car before Asher could object. I needed out. Now that dinner was over and we were back home, I felt like a little girl dressed up in adult clothes. Nothing fit.
I made it to the elevator bay before Asher caught up to me, a secret smile on his face. The doors to a car opened, and he followed me inside. As the doors closed, he slid his hand to my waist and covered my mouth with his. I was so unprepared for the kiss, I could do nothing but participate. His tongue touched my lips and I opened my mouth. Heat spread throughout my body. Needing to be closer to him, I looped my arms around his neck, slipping my fingers into his hair.
He deepened the kiss and the hand around my waist slipped to my bottom while the other explored the back of my neck, tangling in my hair.
All too soon my stomach realized what was happening and freaked the hell out. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I pulled away from Asher and blurted out, “Thanks again!” Then I sprinted for Addison’s door.
I unlocked it and threw it open, waving good-bye to Asher before I shut the door. Worried he was going to come in after me, I leaned up against it and looked out the peephole. Confusion crinkled his brow, but then he shrugged and smiled. As he turned and headed back for the elevator my stomach stopped flipping, but my heart was still racing. I put my back to the door and slid to the floor.
* * *
Addison
My bedroom door was open, so I heard my front door slam, and I smiled as I set my Kindle on the side table. As much as I hated to leave the biker world of Tack and Tyra, I figured Dylan must be home, and I was dying to see how it all went. I called out, “Uh… how did it go?”
No one answered, and since I was still amped up from Jake’s warning earlier about someone trying to come here for evidence, I grabbed my gun and slinked down the hallway. Dylan sat on her butt, back against the front door, looking as though she’d seen a ghost. I set my gun on the kitchen island and flopped down beside her, worried she didn’t have a good time. “You okay?”
She turned wide eyes to me and breathed out, “Ohmigod, Addie, we need to figure out who the hell killed Kirk and clear my name because I cannot go back to jail. Can not.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”
She dropped her face in her hands and groaned. “I can’t live without him, Addie. He kissed me and I… I really want more of that.”
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’re going to figure this out, honey. I promise.”
She raised her head with a sigh. “I wish I could believe you.”
I giggled. “If we don’t get you totally cleared before you go to trial, I’ll get you a fake passport, we’ll grab Daddy’s plane, and head to some country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.”
“I’ll go if Asher goes.”
“Of course he’d go. F-Y-information, he can’t live without you either. It’s just nice to see your head is finally out of your butt enough to do something about it.”
“...it’s nice your head is out of your butt,” she mocked.
I grinned. “Come on, let’s have some wine.”
“I have to get out of this dress. It’s cutting off my circulation.”
“I’ll pour, you change.”
“Deal,” Dylan said, and pushed herself off the floor.
“Wait! Not so fast,” I said, blocking her escape. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. What were you hiding from Jake today?”
“Hiding?” she asked, looking genuinely confused.
“Yes, when he asked you about the spreadsheet.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh!” She put a finger to her lips. “Nothing. I had something in my eye.” Her eyelids started fluttering, like she was trying to pull that crap on me now.
“Are you… winking at me?” I asked, completely confused. “Who winks?” Clearly not Dylan, because she sucked at it.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward her bedroom.
She docked her phone, connecting it to the custom surround sound I’d installed in each of the two master bedrooms. She hit play and cranked up the volume. Pink’s song “Like a Pill” blared. Pink was probably the one artist Dylan and I agreed on, but I had no clue why she was playing it so loud.
“What the hell...?”
Dylan grabbed her dragon snow globe (typical nerd girl accessory) and pried off the bottom, holding up a flash drive between her fingers. “What’s that?”
“It’s on the roof,” she whispered. Or at least that’s what it looked like, since I couldn’t hear her.
“What?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me closer. “It’s the proof,” she whispered louder.
“Of?”
“Melting wagons.”
“Ohmigod,” I exclaimed, and turned down the music. “Why are you whispering with the music on eleven?”
“Because of the detail.”
“The detail Jake put on us?” I asked, wishing she’d start making sense.
She gave me another eye roll. “Yeah. They’re probably listening in on our conversation.”
“Dylan, that’s ridiculous.”
“No, it’s not. Do you have any idea how many mobsters the fuzz have brought down through wires? We’re probably bugged,” she said.
“Mobsters? The fuzz? Dylan, you have got to stop reading mafia novels.”
“Hey! Some of those are non-fiction.”
I let out a quiet snort. “Nobody’s bugging us.”
“I wouldn’t put it past your sexy detective.”
I gasped. “Do you really think he’d put listening devices in my house?” I whispered.
She shrugged. “He’s got a job to do.”
“Well, two can play at this game.” I marched into my office, grabbed my laptop, and google’d listening device detectors.
“What are you doing?” Dylan asked.
“I’m going to buy something that will tell us once and for all if we have pests.”
“You can’t disable their bugs. That’ll just make me look guilty,” Dylan said, plucking my hands from the keys.
Frustrated, I asked, “Then how are we supposed to communicate?”
Dylan grabbed a notepad and a pen from my desk and wrote, “Like this.”
Have I mentioned how brilliant my bestie is? I was about to tell her as much when she popped her flash drive into my laptop and took over the mouse. She opened a folder and double-clicked on a file. Then she swore. Loudly.