by Aja Cole
I search through his cabinets until I find what I’m looking for.
There are these Japanese candies called Hi-Chews that Ash turned me onto after his dad got back from a business trip. As long as I’ve known him, he’s always had a stash somewhere because they’re not in every store, so he buys them in bulk.
I rifle through the packages until I find the green apple and strawberry flavors, taking down one of each. Sitting on the counter, I unwrap one of the little candies and pop it into my mouth.
It’s the first time I’ve had one in a few years, and familiarity rolls over me like a warm blanket.
My birthday is tomorrow, and he would always share a pack.
We used to go through so many of these that we got sick, then we got a little older and realized that moderation was a thing.
I know what you’re thinking.
When are you going to tell Asher about what the detective said? Are you even going to tell him the real reasons you got so stressed out?
I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I’m trying to handle one thing at a time, and I think the revelation that we’ve both been hiding feelings from each other is enough to handle right now.
I don’t know if I should tell him, not until I know more about what’s going on. I told Elias that I wanted a few days to think about everything he told me, and I would reach out to him again when I was ready.
Truthfully, I expected a lot more push-back on that, since he didn’t seem like a man who liked to wait.
After my head cleared a little, I realized that we would’ve been a terrible idea anyway. He’s way too serious, too much of a control-freak. I mean, the man handcuffed me to a chair instead of just coming clean first! I’m not even a criminal. That’s no way to treat someone whose help you want, if you ask me.
He’s still hot though, I’ll give him that.
It’s only 5am, so I make myself stop at five of the chewy candies before I put them back. I take down a mug and pour water into Ash’s electric kettle, borrowing a random tea from the variety pack in the drawer.
I feel a lot better, that’s for sure. It’s probably time to face the music, whatever’s playing.
I need to find out what’s in that envelope that was delivered.
I need to confront my parents. I don’t know what I’ll say to them, but it’s time for the lies to stop.
But how can I do that and not compromise Elias’s work? If my parents are actually criminals, they’ll appreciate the heads up that someone’s asking questions. They’ll wonder where I got my information from, and my mom is intelligent enough to piece it together even if I lie.
The delivery. That’s something I can do right now that doesn’t require any extra decision making.
I doubt Ash will appreciate me driving, so I borrow some of his clothes and call an Uber, scribbling a note for him and sticking it to his bathroom mirror.
He’ll roll out of bed and head straight for the bathroom, brushing his teeth and relieving himself.
On the way to my place, I look at the pink and blue streaks blending with the dark sky as the sun rises, and think about the first time we met.
“Nova, do you want to take these brownies over to the guest house?” Letty, our housekeeper and cook, calls out as I dump my book bag at the door.
“Who’s in the guest house?” I loosen the tie that I have to wear with my school uniform, sliding it out of my button down and laying it across a kitchen chair.
Letty gives me a look and I roll my eyes, grabbing the tie and stuffing it in my blazer pocket.
“Your parents are renting it out. A widower and his son.”
My brows snap together at her answer, and she laughs.
“I know, I was surprised too. Apparently, they passed vetting. Here,” she holds out a container towards me, with a cheery Welcome! note stuck on top. “How was therapy today?”
I shrug, opening the box and snagging a brownie, dancing away with a giggle when Letty tries to take it away.
“It was okay. I’m going to go over.” I leave through the back door, munching on my treat and taking the winding path to the guest house.
I knock on the door, pressing my face to the glass and trying to see if there’s anyone inside. I jump back when the door swings open, and a boy a little taller than me with dark hair looks at me curiously.
He has really pretty eyes. They’re grey.
“Are you eating my brownies?” He nods at the brownie that I’m clutching in one hand, and I hide it behind my back, swallowing a bite down quickly.
“Nope.”
“Whatever you say.” His lips tip up, and I blush. He’s really cute. I thrust the container at him, and he takes it.
“Thanks. You live here? My dad said the landlords have a daughter.”
“Yep. That’s me. The daughter. The only daughter. Well, I mean, I had a sister, but…” I trail off, embarrassed. “Yeah. I’m Nova.”
“Nice to meet you, Nova. You can call me Ash.” He steps back. “You want some milk? You know, to go with that brownie you’ve already stolen.”
I look back in the direction of my house, knowing I’m supposed to be starting on my homework. But that’s what I always do, and the work is easy anyway. I can do it later.
“Yeah. That’d be cool.” I step in, and he closes the door behind us.
“This is your drop-off, right?” The driver’s question brings me back to the present, and I nod, thanking him and getting out.
“Mrs. King.” The voice comes from behind me, and I recognize it immediately.
And it immediately annoys me.
“Agent Carter, I’d say I’m surprised to see you, but I’m not.”
18
Nova
Elias raises a mocking eyebrow, walking closer to me in his dark suit.
“I missed you, too.”
“Who wears a suit in May? Aren’t you sweating?” I grumble, sliding my key from its hiding place because I didn’t have them after yesterday.
“I don’t sweat unless I want to.”
I roll my eyes, opening my door and not giving into my urge to shut it in his face. I should’ve expected an answer like that.
I didn’t want to talk to him yet. I wanted to find out what the hell was delivered myself and then get back to him after I decided how I’m going to approach my parents.
“You were in the hospital.” He walks around my living room, looking around. I rifle through the things next to my door, sliding the slim envelope out and trying to shield it with my body. “I hope you’re feeling better.”
“I am. How’d you know?” If I can make it to my bedroom with the envelope, he never has to know that it exists.
“Your parents flew in.” He turns to face me and I stand straight, leaning on the counter nonchalantly and sliding the envelope under my arms. “I have a vested interest in their whereabouts, so I checked into it.”
“Why did you call me Mrs. King?”
“Why do you think I called you Mrs. King?” He watches me, and I glare.
“You knew our divorce wasn’t filed before we did.”
“I know a lot of things you don’t.” Unapologetic, he walks closer, and I make myself not panic. “What’s in the envelope?”
Dammit.
“I’ve got ten years and a lot more experience on you, plus your face is too expressive.” He reaches over and tugs the envelope from under my arms, and I resign myself to my fate.
Overbearing.
“There’s no return address.” He holds it up, turning it around. “You know who it’s from?”
“You just answered your own question, wise one,” I quip, going to my fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.
I don’t offer him one.
“Didn’t get a chance to open it, I passed out.”
“I’ll do the honors.” He unseals the flap and reaches in, pulling out papers. He spreads them out on the bar counter and I realize they’re not papers, they’re photos.
Of me.
>
Of my parents.
Of Asher.
My blood chills and my heart pounds in my ears as I reach out to touch them, but he grips my wrist firmly.
“Don’t,” he says softly. “Though I doubt they left anything behind.” He lets go of my wrist, nodding his approval, and I pick up a photo of me with Tara.
It’s from LA.
There are pictures from Atlanta too, and my parents still live in Florida.
Whoever took these pictures has been everywhere.
Shaking out the thick envelope, Elias picks up a piece of paper that flutters out. He stands slowly, staring at it, a tight grimace on his lips.
“Do you recognize this handwriting?” His voice is hard, and he thrusts the piece of paper at me. I take it, reading the words.
Be careful.
Find Elias Carter.
You need protection.
I shake my head. “No, should I?”
“I do.” He flings the paper on the counter on top of the photos, pacing away from me. “I’ve had an informant this past year, feeding me breadcrumbs that’s helped us bring in lower level criminals. That,” he stabs a hand in the direction of the paper, “is the same hand.”
“What does it mean? What do I do now?” I hate the waver in my voice. The last time I felt this kind of uncertain fear was right after I eloped with Ash.
Frances thanked me, but I don’t think his family was as grateful as he was.
I can’t prove that it was them, but I saw the same guy following me for weeks. I wasn’t under my parent’s thumb as much then since they almost immediately cut off contact, so I didn’t say anything at first.
Then my tires kept mysteriously going flat. I thought stuff was being moved around in my apartment. Stuff would go missing and then turn back up. Nothing life-threatening, but I knew that someone was letting me know that they had access to me.
I finally admitted it to Sasha on a rare call.
It all stopped, and we didn’t talk about it again. I don’t know what he did, but I was just grateful for it.
Now that I know what I know, it makes sense.
I was probably just a pawn. A way to negotiate some sick family alliance. I thought back then that it was just about marrying someone that my mom approved of, but the truth is a lot more chilling.
“Do you know who the informant is? They’re obviously keeping tabs on me too.” I touch the photos again, feeling sick to my stomach. “They got these pictures from somewhere. Are you sure they’re an ally? What if it’s a set up.”
“I don’t know for sure if they’re a friend or foe when it comes to me.” He runs a frustrated hand over his face. “But they definitely have an interest in you.”
“But why? Why me and why now? I’m not involved in any of my parents’ shit. I don’t even know the full extent of what the hell they’re into. I haven’t spoken to them in years. They send me these stupid cards every year instead of talking to me, but that’s the only contact we’ve had until they came yesterday.”
“Cards? What kind of cards?”
“That’s what you decide to take out of everything I said?” I frown.
“Everything counts. Bring me the cards. You keep all of them?”
Not bothering to respond, I go to my closet and pull out the box, getting back to the front and putting it on the counter. I open it and gather up all six of them, passing them over.
He walks to the couch, sitting down and spreading them on the table. He takes out all the cards and puts them above each envelope. I sit in the armchair, biting my nails and wondering what the hell he’s looking for.
Shit, and Asher is probably up by now. I don’t know how much time has passed, and I was supposed to be back quickly.
“So every birthday since you were…18?” he questions.
“Yeah. When I left home. I guess my parents couldn’t put their pride aside to apologize, but could write a check.”
“There are no checks here. Are there always checks? Where are they?”
“In a Vanguard account. I have the last one because I haven’t given it to my accountant yet. I don’t use any of it, it’s just there, gathering interest and whatever else.”
“Bring me the last check.” He goes back to flipping over the cards and examining them.
The man could add a please sometimes.
I come back with the check and hand it to him, hoping he’s going to have some big revelation.
“This trust.” He taps the information on the check in the From area. “It’s your parents?”
“I guess? Aren’t offshore accounts and stuff a thing? I have no idea, I just assumed it’s them. Who else would it be?”
His strong jaw tightens and he spears me with intense eyes, like he’s trying to say something without using words.
“Who else would it be, Elias?” I repeat, swallowing hard. I glance at the cards and back to his face.
He slides one of the envelopes from the table and tears the edges gently, then stands and goes to the counter, picking up something there. He crouches down beside my chair and holds out the note that was inside the envelope with the pictures, and the torn birthday card envelope.
My vision blurs with wetness and I go to touch the papers, but ball my hands in my fists, afraid to. I don’t know what I’m looking at. I can’t be looking at what I am.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head, my body starting to shake. “No. Don’t do this.”
On the inside of the envelope that I never thought to take apart is the same rough script writing as what’s on the warning. The same writing that matches Elias’ informant.
You’re my star.
19
Asher
I hear my front door open, and I’m relieved. Nova left a note saying that she needed to grab some things from her place, but she’d be back.
“You want an omelet, Mrs. King?” I tease, liking that I can call her that again.
And this time, it feels a lot more real. I think if things work out, I want us to have a big wedding. We can tell everyone that we’re renewing our vows, but we’ll both know that it’s the first time we’re truly committing to each other.
I should probably tell her about a few of the things I’m into, first, before I think about long-term.
Hey babe, I’m really into turning a woman into a canvas with candle wax. You’re up for that, right?
Easy peasy. I just keep telling myself that at least I’m not into more of the extreme shit like scat play and water-sports. Less explaining to do.
“Asher.” Her voice is quiet and I turn away from the eggs I’m whisking, the ready smile I had dropping away at seeing her face. Then I notice the stoic man with her, and I’m even more bemused.
“Elias?”
Her eyes flash to him, accusation in them. “How do you know Asher?”
“We go to the same club.” I put down the fork I was using on the counter and leave the kitchen, studying her face as I get closer. Her eyes are rimmed with red and her face is slightly puffy.
Like she’s been crying.
I raise my eyes to Elias, gritting my teeth. “It would be wise for you to give me some answers before I forget my manners.”
“What club? A sports club?” She looks between us, looking even smaller where she’s standing. Elias and I are about the same height, same build. I joked with him before that if we ever need an extra on the team, he’ll be the first one I call.
He’s not a stranger. At all.
And I want to know what the hell he’s doing with Nova and what the fuck is going on.
“A sex club,” he answers, not dropping my stare. There’s complete challenge in his and it fires my blood the same way it does when I’m on the field.
This is a man who wants what I have, and that’s fucking unacceptable.
I step closer with a snarl, and Nova puts a hand on my chest.
“You go to a sex club?” I can’t read her voice, and I reluctantly drop my gaze from Elias’, seeing th
e slight hurt on her face.
“It caters to a specific crowd.”
“Specific like what?” Stubbornness blazes in her eyes and I curse silently because this isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation.
“Nothing crazy, I’m not a sadist or anything. I’m the same guy I’ve always been.” I avoid answering completely, because I don’t want to talk about this for the first time in front of Elias.
It doesn’t matter how much I know him, this should be private.
“You’ve known who he was since the first time we met.” She turns her ire to Elias, and I can’t say that I have a problem with it.
“I did, but it wasn’t important and it still isn’t. There’s more pressing things to cover than what your husband does with his leisure time.” His mouth twists in a sardonic smile and I’ve never wished more that I could punch someone in the face.
Elias has always been a smug bastard, but this is different. This is personal.
“What are you two doing together?” It’s my turn to be suspicious. “Is that where you’ve been all morning?”
“It’s not like that.” She shakes her head sadly, but I watch Elias and his look says it all.
Maybe it’s not for Nova, but it is for him.
“Do you want to tell him, or should I?” he asks.
If I have to hear anything else from Elias’ mouth, it’s going to be bloodied.
“Can you go do something else? Go be an asshole in the corner or something so I can explain,” she snaps at him, taking my hand and pulling me into the kitchen and out of his hearing.
I lean against the counter next to the stove, crossing my arms. I want to touch her but she’s not giving off open vibes right now. She wraps her arms around herself, staring at the floor, silent for a long moment.
“You know that when I was 12, my older sister disappeared.” She’s still staring firmly at the floor.
“Yeah, I know that.”
“I told you that it never seemed like a big deal to my parents after they told me. It’s like their reactions were more for my benefit than for theirs. I thought that maybe they just grieved differently, and they’ve never been overly emotional, so I let it go.”