“But...we had something,” Emma protested, staring moodily into her glass. She’d barely paid attention to her outfit: a slouchy sweater that kept sliding off one shoulder and black leggings. She wore her hair loose and naturally dried, the natural waves showing through. The vibe around them was boisterous and loud, but Emma just felt isolated and alone. Despite being surrounded by attractive men, she only wanted to think about Xavier.
“You mean you had amazing sex,” Sarah corrected, thumping her glass down on the bar for emphasis. “And you never know, it could’ve gone south when you found out he still lives in his mom’s basement and spends his off time smoking weed.”
“He doesn’t do that!”
“How do you know?” Sarah arched an eyebrow and Emma sighed. She didn’t know, not really. She didn’t know the man’s last name, much less where he lived.
“It’s driving me insane. You can find anything out about anybody these days just on your phone!” Emma waved her smartphone in the air. “But he’s a black box. It’s just not right.”
“Maybe it’s better this way,” Sarah cautioned as she took another small sip of her drink. “Maybe he’s bad news. Gang-banger?”
“No!” Emma exclaimed.
“Okay, white-collar felon.” Sarah took a little sip of her vodka soda, shaking it so the ice cubes clinked against the side of the glass.
Emma shook her head. “He’s just...troubled.”
“Mental issues?”
“Commitment issues. Relationship anxiety.”
Sarah shoved her shoulder. “Have you been Google diagnosing again?”
Emma gave a guilty shrug.
“You know that stuff is dangerous!” Sarah cried, putting her glass down on the bar. “By the time you were on the outs with Devin, you were convinced he had a borderline personality.” Sarah rolled her eyes.
“He does!” Emma exclaimed.
Sarah heaved a frustrated sigh. “You need to close WebMD, and start facing facts. Mr. X is gone, but that’s okay. He wasn’t the staying type.”
Emma remembered how quickly he’d left her the last two times they’d been together. He’d been in such a rush to leave her he’d barely said goodbye. Staying was absolutely not his strong suit.
“And he’s gone radio silent for a week. It’s done, sweetie. I know you want there to be something there, but there’s just not.” Sarah gave Emma’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Doesn’t mean you can’t find someone else.”
Emma stared morosely at her drink. She didn’t want someone else. She wanted Xavier. “What if he got into a car accident...? What if he really does want to contact me, but...”
Sarah let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Honey, that isn’t what happened. This is Nost. No strings, remember? That’s what you signed on for!”
“I know, but...”
“You just need to shift gears a little. Quit focusing on one man. What you need is a distraction. Give me your phone,” Sarah demanded, holding her palm up.
“Why?”
“Just...gimme.” Sarah opened and closed her hand impatiently. Reluctantly, Emma set her phone in her friend’s hand. In seconds, Sarah had pulled up Nost and all active members within a half-mile radius.
“No, no, no!” Emma cried, reaching out and trying to grab her phone back, but Sarah held it just out of reach.
“This is for your own good,” Sarah said, sending out a few winks to nearby suitors. She glanced up around the bar, looking hopeful.
“I don’t want to meet anyone else!”
“You might not want to, but you need to.” Sarah typed a message to one member Emma couldn’t even see.
“Who are you messaging? What...”
“Just trust me,” Sarah exclaimed as she grinned into the phone.
“Let me see.” Emma reached out and tugged on Sarah’s arm.
“I’m just saying hi to a few nearby possibilities.” She peered at the screen. “Oh, my, there are like dozens!”
Given that they were in a sports bar surrounded by guys, that didn’t surprise Emma in the least. “Show me.”
Eventually, Sarah pulled up a few profiles. “See? He’s not so bad.”
Emma looked at the blond guy who was slim but not fit, kind of cute but no Xavier. She saw his hazel eyes in her mind, his jet-black hair, the look on his face when he pulled her in for a kiss... Then, she felt herself dissolve a little. How could he walk away from that? From them?
Sarah showed her another. “Hey, you got a new message from Good Lookin’ Good Times. He looks kind of familiar. Did we message him?”
“What?” Emma glanced down at the screen, her Xavier revelry broken. That’s when she saw the fake profile picture that Happy Fun Time had used, the man who’d been so nasty to her at the Ritz-Carlton bar.
“That’s Happy Fun Time!” Emma exclaimed, swiping the photo so it got bigger. “I mean, that’s not him, him, but it’s the fake photo he used. Trust me, he looks nothing like that GQ model.” She studied the map on the phone. “It says he’s right near us, too.”
Emma glanced around hurriedly. Then, seconds later, she saw a telltale Cardinals cap in the back corner of the bar, by the pool tables.
“Oh, God! There he is! Cardinals hat?” Emma told Sarah, trying to covertly side nod with her head.
“The old guy? Seriously overweight?” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “That is false advertising.”
“I know.” Emma stirred her drink. “Don’t stare,” she admonished, suddenly fearful the man would see them. He must know they were nearby. He’d messaged her, but maybe there was a chance he hadn’t seen them yet. The bar was crowded, and Emma cringed, using the men behind her as a shield.
“And who in their right mind wears a St. Louis hat to a Cubs game?”
“He’s a jerk, so who knows?” Emma shrugged, remembering the vile way he’d clutched at her elbow, the coldness of his voice when he’d hissed bitch in her face.
“He’s the guy that grabbed you, right?” Sarah’s frown deepened. “Let’s report him,” she suggested, quickly clicking on the “report user” button, and she tapped in their complaint. She made sure to write false advertising in all caps, as well as belligerent and rude and assault.
“Maybe we should go,” Emma suggested, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She didn’t want the man to find them.
“Fine. I got this round.” Sarah slapped down a few bills in the small shot glass that held their bill, and then they made their way through the thick crowd to the exit.
They were barely out the door when behind them, someone shouted, “Hey, Kitten!”
Emma froze, for a second, wondering if it was Mr. X.
But, when she turned, she found the average-looking blond with two of his friends. “Kitten, you’re even prettier in person. We were going in to Barleycorn.” He nodded at the big Irish pub near them. “Buy you and your friend a drink?”
Sarah gave Emma nudge.
“Okay,” Emma reluctantly agreed.
* * *
Xavier sat at his laptop at home, poring over a bug in the Nost code that some of his engineers couldn’t figure out. He’d spent the week burying himself in work, trying to stave off thoughts of Emma: what she was doing, what she was wearing, who she might be with. He’d resolutely refused to answer her query about dinner, and yet, he worried that she might be giving up on him. After all, he’d never responded, but she hadn’t followed up, either. Her question sat on his phone, almost like a dare, a challenge. So far, he’d resisted caving, but he could feel his fingers itching to respond. Itching to set a time and place.
Only work could keep him from doing that. He had to throw himself into work and hope that eventually he’d forget about Emma.
You don’t forget about the woman you love, his father had told him. He hated that his father’s voice seemed to be in his head consta
ntly. I don’t love her, Papi, he wanted to say, I don’t even know her.
Yet, why did he suddenly understand why his father kept coming back to his erratic mother? Why else would he suffer so much?
Emma doesn’t seem like suffering, though, an inner voice of reason said. Emma is passionate, vulnerable, whole. She’s not Mama. Or Sasha.
Sasha. The moment she betrayed him, Xavier saw his mother all over again: the woman who burned so brightly, she burned everyone around her, too. He might have been young, just eight, but he remembered the nights his father would go out looking for his mother, the worried look on Xavier’s aunt’s face as she tried to reassure him that everything was fine. He knew everything wasn’t fine.
Xavier blinked away the memory of the frightened little boy. He was a man now, a man in charge of his own destiny. And he wasn’t going to be weak like his father.
In fact, he’d prove it. He pulled up the Nost app on his phone. Beautiful women smiled back at him from his inbox. Yet, even as he pored through the pictures, all he could do was compare each and every one of them to Emma. They all came up wanting. Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? Why couldn’t he put aside thoughts of her? He would find a way to rid himself of this desire, of this weakness. He wouldn’t be his father. He forced himself to message a gorgeous brunette and a beautiful twenty-something. He needed a palate cleanser, that’s all, he reasoned. The second he had another woman, he’d forget all about Emma. Wouldn’t he? He put his phone down and turned his attention back to his screen.
As he typed on his computer, he saw a notice coming into his inbox. He’d signed on to be copied on all complaints registered at Nost. He opened the message, and that’s when he saw Emma’s account flick before his eyes. She was active again? was his first thought. A flame of jealousy rose up in his chest. Was she, right now, in the arms of another man?
The thought of her flirting...or kissing...another man, made him shift uncomfortably in his office chair. He didn’t like that idea. Not one bit.
Then he read her complaint, and as soon as he pulled up the profile picture of the guy, he knew it was the same man who’d hassled her at the bar. He’d put up the exact same fake photo of himself, and the description she’d typed of him—down to the St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap—all rang a bell. Dammit, the asshole had slipped into the system again.
This time, Xavier dug deeper. He pulled up the man’s fake profile, but, unlike other profiles, he’d actually put in a local phone number. After being booted from the system multiple times, he’d be locked out, unless he used a number that worked, a number he could confirm by text. This could be Xavier’s break. He used reverse look-up online for the number, and found it registered to a Jimmy Keith. Could it be that easy? Was Jimmy Keith the man? Or would it be another dead end?
Xavier ran a few more searches on him, and landed on a social media page, which confirmed it: this was the guy who’d bullied Emma at the bar. He had only a handful of Facebook friends, but was born and raised in St. Louis. Xavier went a step further and ran the man’s name through a criminal background check. Results instantly popped up: trespassing, public intoxication—and then Xavier saw something that made the room spin. He had pleaded guilty to sexual assault ten years ago in St. Louis. Another Google search pulled up local newspaper articles about it. He was sentenced to eight years, but was paroled early.
This piece of shit had managed to get into Nost at least twice and was right now in it again, preying on unsuspecting women.
This asshole had grabbed Emma’s arm at the bar.
Xavier felt his blood boil as he called his friend, the Chicago detective. He didn’t know if there was anything that could be done, but he sure as hell would find out. He got voice mail and left a message. He pulled up some of Emma’s messages and realized the ex-con had tried to message Emma again, this time under his new profile. Xavier wished he could pull up her location, but even he couldn’t do that from the code in his office. He’d need a new profile on Nost, and fast, in order to find her and even then, that might take too long.
But he had to warn her, he thought. If Emma was anywhere near this man, he had to find her. The man was dangerous.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EMMA SAT WITH the friendly, but a little bit bland, guys who’d bought drinks for them. She was pretty sure two of them were interested in Sarah, but one—the blond with the average build—was absolutely fixated on her. He kept finding reasons to touch her, which Emma wasn’t so sure she liked. He seemed nice enough. Casey, who lived around the corner in an apartment he shared with the two friends he was with, was working a low-level accounting job, but hoping for advancement. They were exactly the same age, but somehow that just didn’t feel quite right. His friends kept trying to order Jäger shots, which just made Emma’s stomach turn. Clearly, these fellas hadn’t left the college binge-drinking scene behind just yet. The way they slammed beers made Emma think about frat parties and keg stands. She sighed. She missed Mr. X: his sophistication, the way he seemed...beyond all the immaturity.
Except for the fact that Mr. X wouldn’t even give you his real name, a voice in her head reminded her. At least Casey here gave his full name right off the bat. And she knew so much about him already in the first five minutes: Boston College grad, licensed accountant, loved college football and camping. Wanted to take her sometime, he said, to Starved Rock, his favorite local campground. Emma tried to muster up some interest, but just failed. He was nice enough, but just dull.
Then, she wondered if it was because she knew too much about him. Had Mr. X been right? Did knowledge make a person...boring?
“One time when we were camping...” Casey continued, happy to steer the conversation, as Emma nodded and smiled weakly. As Casey spoke, relating some tale about raccoons getting into his cooler and stealing a beer, Emma tried to block out his voice. She studied his blue eyes, his average, but somewhat cute face, and wondered: Would she have sex with this man in an alley at dusk? In a public restroom at a fancy hotel?
Inwardly, she shook her head. It didn’t matter if she knew everything about him or nothing, she decided. Casey just didn’t light that spark in her.
Mr. X was different. Special, somehow. He had to know that.
“And then we found that he’d somehow popped the top of the can. Can you believe that? Raccoons, man...they are smarter than you think.”
Casey finished his story and Emma laughed politely. She glanced at Sarah and couldn’t tell whether or not she enjoyed the attention of Casey’s friends. Would she be up for bailing? Now? Sarah flipped her red hair off one shoulder. Looked like she might be flirting with one of them...or hell, both, for all Emma knew.
“Well, this guy needs to go drain the snake,” Casey said, getting up from his bar stool. Emma flinched a little at the vernacular. Did he have to say it that way?
Emma just nodded and Casey sauntered into the crowd, looking for the men’s room. Emma felt her phone buzz in her pocket and she tugged it out of her jacket. She glanced at the face and saw a text from Mr. X.
Where are you?
She felt a ripple of anticipation run through her. He hadn’t contacted her for a week! Emma thought Sarah had been right—he’d been done and it was time to face facts: that whatever they had was just a temporary thing. But, here, on her phone, was proof that Mr. X hadn’t walked away. Not just yet, anyway. And he hadn’t been in a car accident, either. No, here he was on her phone.
Emma felt such relief, such joy, that he’d contacted her, she immediately started typing a reply. I’m drinking at...
Then she paused. He’d kept her at bay for a whole week. Kept her wondering, kept her hanging. She had every reason to be angry at him, she reasoned. She thought she might never see him again! He let her think that. Besides, if she let him in, if she invited him out, they’d just end up with steamy, amazing sex, and then he’d probably just disappear again. Is that
what she wanted? No, she decided. Not this time.
Why do you want to know? she responded, instead.
I need to see you, he typed, almost instantly.
Her heart sang a bit. He needed to see her! Probably just for a quick hookup, that little voice in her head said. And then, another quickly replied, And what’s wrong with that? She felt her thighs tingle. He knew how to satisfy her, that was for sure. The sex would be amazing, even if it was of the wham, bam, thank-you, ma’am variety. She wanted that, but she also wanted to know his full name. And he owed her that much. This time, she wouldn’t let him arrive, seduce her with his amazing charisma and expert hands. No, this time, she’d get what she needed before she saw him.
On one condition, she typed.
Emma, please. Just tell me where you are! That guy—the one who harassed you at the bar the night we met—I know he’s trying to message you. He’s dangerous, so do not meet him anywhere!
Emma read Xavier’s message and frowned. How did he know the man was messaging her? Did he know the Cardinals hat guy? Emma already knew he was dangerous from her run-in with him at the Ritz-Carlton, but what did Xavier mean?
I just saw him but I don’t think he saw me, Emma texted back. How did you know he messaged me?
Turn off your Nost location finder, he told her once more. He could find you.
Emma felt a chill run down her spine. Quickly, she hit “location-off” on her app.
Where are you? Xavier asked once more, ignoring her inquiry.
First you have to tell me your first AND last name. Now let him try to worm his way out of this one. At least she’d make him work for it.
She stared at her phone and saw he was typing. His answer popped up on her screen:
Xavier Pena. Where are you?
She felt a surge of satisfaction. There. She knew his name now, and he wouldn’t be able to disappear so quickly from her life. Not now.
No Strings Page 10