“Lucy, it’s Gary.”
From next to me, Lucy whispered, “Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”
“Who’s Gary?” I whispered back, while I tried desperately not to vomit all over her floor. Because I killed someone.
I killed someone.
“My parole officer.”
My head whipped over to her. “What? He’s here now?”
Her face crumpled and her eyes darted everywhere but on the dead body still crumpled at our feet.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” Lucy stumbled back, her head shaking almost violently. “If he sees Ron, that’s it … my ass is back in jail.”
“Why? I’m the one who did it. ”
There was another knock and Lucy pinched her eyes shut. “It doesn’t matter. Ron said he stashed some drugs in here somewhere.” Absently, she laid a hand over the red marks on her neck left from Ron’s hands. God. Seeing her almost pass out from the way that scrawny, greasy asshole grabbed her was probably one of the scariest moments of my life, which was saying something since there was a lot in the world that terrified me.
Like driving a car, or not washing my hands in a public restroom, or eating food past its expiration date. Add to that list: the thought of going to jail for murder, if they didn’t believe that it was self-defense.
In that moment, knowing that the only thing that would stop her from getting hurt was me, was terrifying on an entirely different level. Jail hadn’t been a thought. Because I’d felt such a cold burst of terror seeing her eyes bug out that I hadn’t thought twice about grabbing the pan, even though I’d seen the black handle of a gun tucked into the back of his pants.
“Lucy,” the voice called from the hallway. “I know you’re home. The neighbor said she saw you in here.”
“H-hang on, Gary,” she said in a surprisingly level voice, despite the fact that her face was pale and her eyes were wide with terror. “I’m coming.”
“What are you doing?”
She licked her lips and started walking around the corner to the flimsy wood door of her sparsely furnished apartment. “I … I think I’ve got a plan. As long as he doesn’t go in the kitchen, we should be fine.”
“What the hell are you going to do? Bar him from coming through the door? Like that won’t be suspicious.”
Her eyes lasered up to mine with intent, with determination. “What other choice do we have? There’s no way they’ll believe it was self-defense. Not with my record. I’m screwed if Gary sees that body. It won’t matter what you tell him happened.”
I walked after her, pan still in hand, when she gave me an incredulous look.
“What?”
“Ya think you could put that down before I let my nice parole officer in?” The quietly hissed sarcasm made me narrow my eyes at her, but son of a bitch, my hands shook while I tossed the pan onto her weary-looking brown couch. “Thank you.”
We neared the door and she looked up at me, still wearing that thin, sad robe that didn’t do a very good job of covering her curves. I hitched a thumb at the door. “What about him?”
Lucy took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, right before she wrapped her arm around my waist. “I need you to play along.”
I gave her a look.
She gave me one right back. “Just channel some of that bossy alpha shit you pulled last night when I danced for you.”
Oh, I wanted to respond to that. But then she opened the door. A stern looking man with a stern looking hair cut was giving us a disapproving look. “Lucy.”
The smile she gave him was bright and appealing and I couldn’t help but marvel at her ability to play a role. This was the I’m totally fine, I didn’t just check the non-existent pulse of the dead man currently residing on my kitchen floor role. With the hand not tightly holding my waist, she edged my T-shirt up so that she could stroke the top edge of my jeans. I shivered when she scraped her thumbnail along the skin low on my stomach.
“Gary.” She looked up at me and tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. “You’re interrupting date night.”
I swallowed roughly and did my best to hold Gary’s eyes when he sized me up. Lucy pinched my side with her hand, and I laid a heavy arm around her shoulders, hugging her to me. Without shoes, she fit perfectly into my side, her head just beneath my shoulders.
“Who’s this?” he asked in a gruff, no-nonsense voice, giving her a censorious look. “You’re supposed to tell me about boyfriends, too, you know.”
“I know,” she said so sweetly I almost believed her. Then she gave me such a wide-eyed, happy glance that I couldn’t look away. “It just happened so fast for us.”
“Uh-huh. Where’d you meet?”
Without missing a beat, Lucy tightened her grip on me and her pointer finger followed the edge of my belly button. I dug my fingers into her shoulders, just in case she sensed my abject panic. Mercifully, she dropped her finger from my skin, hooking it in the waist of my jeans. “We met at group therapy.”
Gary’s eyes sharpened with interest on me. “Hmm. So I could ask Watkins about this one?”
“Of course, you could.” Lucy laughed under breath. “But X is the good boy in the group. Not a mark on his criminal record.” She looked up at me again, so much heat in her eyes, and she dropped her gaze to my lips for a brief, horrible moment. I thought she might kiss me. “He’s just one of the crazy ones. Just like I like ‘em.”
I sighed and it made her smile widely.
Gary sighed too, and her smile dropped immediately. “That’s great. But I still need to get something from you, Lucy.”
Her cheeks flushed red when he produced a small plastic cup. “Gary, please. Do I have to do this now?”
This time, she wasn’t playing at anything, because her embarrassment was so clear that I felt bad for.
“You do. Sorry, kid.” Only he didn’t sound sorry at all.
Like we were connected by magnets, we backed up together and let Gary walk in. He gave a brief glance around her space. The walls were clean, but bare. A small TV sat on a simple coffee table opposite of the couch, and there was a half-full bookshelf next to it.
“Fine.” She snatched the cup and wouldn’t look at me when she walked into the bathroom just by where we were standing. Just as she was turning to shut the bathroom door, she caught my eyes.
“Lucy,” Gary called, and our gazes broke apart. “Door stays open.”
With jerky movements, she pushed it back open and lifted the toilet lid. I turned away to give her some privacy and found Gary studying me. I guessed it was up to me to keep his suspicions at bay. Not a position I found myself in often, so I tried out a polite smile. It only made his eyes narrow.
“What was your name again?”
“Xavier Lockwood,” I answered as quietly as possible without sounding like a freak, because I didn’t want Lucy to hear what the X stood for, because I knew it drove her crazy not knowing.
“Lockwood, huh?”
Yeah, buddy. Lockwood. He recognized the name instantly, because instead of suspicion, his face now held unvarnished curiosity. As if he spoke the words out loud, I could hear what he was thinking. What was he doing with her?
Good fucking question.
“Yes, sir.”
Oh, he liked that. Probably had a superiority complex as tall as Willis Tower. He’d get along with my parents just fine.
“You work with your father in that big building downtown?” There was only the slightest hint of condescension in his voice, but it was just enough to set my teeth on edge.
“No, sir. The family business wasn’t a good fit for me.”
“Huh. What is it that you do then?”
“I do a lot of philanthropic work for our foundation.” That was my canned answer, since it always made people uncomfortable if I told the truth. I didn’t work because I didn’t have to. I had a degree from an Ivy League school and it collected dust in my parents’ study. I did give money to our foundation, but writing checks was the extent of it, not that Gary needed to know that.
Before he could grill me further, Lucy slammed the toilet shut and came out of the bathroom with the sample cup outstretched. Her smile was tight and small.
Gary held out a paper bag and carefully set the sample cup inside of it after taking it from Lucy.
“Still working at the diner?”
She nodded. “Biggest thrill of my life.”
“Uh-huh.” He had that same talent as my mother, the slow blink instead of an eye roll. I bet in his job he used it a lot. “If I call down there, they’ll give me the same answer?”
“Yes, Gary.” Her patience was wearing thin. Probably because of the body lying roughly ten feet from us. She came next to me, and without thinking, I slid a hand down her back, which made my fingers tangle in her slightly damp hair. In surprise, Lucy looked up at me.
Gary was watching us, and then his eyes narrowed in on her throat. “What happened there?” he asked, voice sharp with concern and suspicion.
“Oh, this?” She dragged her fingers lightly over the still-red skin of her throat, then sent me a wicked little smile. “Haven’t you heard what oxygen deprivation does for your orgasm?” Then she gave a satisfied hum. “I thought my legs fell off for a second there afterward.”
I tipped my chin up to the ceiling and struggled to breathe normally. Her hand reached down and squeezed my butt.
Gary cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Whatever. I’ll see you in a week or two.”
“Goodbye, Gary,” she said, closing the door behind him and then slumping against it when she locked it with a comforting click. “Holy shit, that was close.”
I staggered back onto the couch and sank my head in my hands. “Now what?”