Twisted Secrets

by Amy McKinley

  We paused at my door, and my usual nervousness at that point was there, but for an entirely different reason. After he handed me my bag, I fished my keys out. My hand shook as I tried to insert it into the lock. When his hand covered mine, steadying it, a warm buzz infused my skin where we touched.

  Once I had the door open, I turned to face him, and his hand cupped my cheek. Warm brown eyes met mine, swirling with emotion that made me gasp. His other hand went to my hip, drawing me closer. I inhaled sharply at the contact, flattening my hands on his shoulders, so tempted to pull him closer. But I wanted him to make the next move. I needed to see where it was going, because I knew I was already a goner.

  His gaze dropped to my lips, and in slow increments, he closed the distance, brushing his lips back and forth over mine. My heart skipped a beat, and a whimper escaped. With a moan, he deepened the kiss, his tongue invading my mouth in a teasing caress. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned into him as every inch of my body hummed in awareness and need.

  All my worries evaporated in the fiery, passionate way he manipulated my mouth. I was completely unprepared by how the taste of him awakened uncontrollable desire.

  He pulled me tight against him, and I sank into him, feeling how much I affected him too.

  “Riley,” he whispered before slanting his head and devouring my lips again.

  Heat curled within me, and my knees went weak. The spark of love I’d felt bloomed, and I knew he could be the one.

  After a few minutes, he drew back, resting his forehead against mine, our labored breaths mingling.

  When he pulled back, his gaze was soft and tender, warring with the swirls of desire. “I really want to go inside your place, but I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

  His husky voice vibrated from his chest into mine, and I almost purred, rubbing against him. But I forced myself to listen.

  “There’s something between us, Riley.”

  “I think so too.” If he hadn’t been holding me up, I would have swayed into him.

  “I want to explore what’s developing between us, and once you’re ready, I want hours to savor you.” Desire swirled in his gaze before his warm breath feathered across my face. Then he added more pressure and deepened the brief goodnight kiss.

  Once inside my apartment, I leaned against the door, instantly missing the warmth of his body. My fingers pressed to my swollen, tingling lips. It had taken everything in me not to beg him to stay.

  I meandered through my apartment, dropping my beach bag by my flip-flops then retrieving my damp towel and taking it to the washing machine. With my mind occupied by Xander, I peeled my off bikini and added it and detergent to the load.

  Salty remnants from the beach clung to my hair and skin, and I got the shower going, checked the temperature, then stepped under the rainwater spout.

  In a daze, I rinsed away the sand and salt but not the kiss. I couldn’t help but wonder if Xander was already at his condo and in the shower too. My skin heated at the thought. After finishing up, I towel dried my hair, ran a brush through it, and slipped on pajamas.

  It wasn’t long until I had a glass of cabernet in hand and was settled on the veranda to take in the fading sunset. Exhaustion from the long day lulled me into a happy daze. Minutes passed in slow, delicious relaxation. When I finished my drink, I rinsed the glass then dragged myself to my bedroom. I slipped beneath my bedsheets with Xander’s touch filling my mind, and I smiled, knowing I would have excellent dreams.

  14

  Riley

  Tuesday morning, the computer screen blurred for a moment, and I swiped my hand over my tired, gritty eyes. I needed a break. I stepped away from the pictures I was editing, poured another cup of coffee, added caramel-latte creamer, then went out onto the lanai to get away from my laptop.

  Lunch was nearing, and after working an early shift at the Coffee Hut, I’d planned on spending the rest of the day and part of the next finishing up the projects that were coming due, at least as much as I could, so that I could skip classes and not worry about anything until graduation. I would only miss a handful of days, as class wasn’t every day, and it shouldn’t have been a problem. Then there was the upcoming weekend and one full week before graduation. I’d already spoken with two of my professors and gotten approval. It was the third who worried me.

  The risk of running into Charles on campus was high, and I wasn’t up for it. I kept a close eye on my grades in that class, too, just in case. Regardless of how I felt, I would have to go in two days before graduation to take a theory final. My grade was an A, and I wasn’t willing to chance it by skipping the exam. My gut tensed. I opened an email and shot off a request to the teacher’s assistant for Charles’s class, asking if he could administer the test. I included times when I knew he wouldn’t be available and blamed it on work. With that sent, I forced myself to stop worrying about him.

  It was a hot day, and I wished I was at the beach, hanging out with Xander, instead of cooped up in my apartment, trying to get my schoolwork finished. Tapping my foot, I nibbled on a fingernail and attempted to take a few minutes to myself before I went back in. It wasn’t happening. I pushed out an aggravated breath and retrieved my laptop. The atmosphere was better outside, anyway, and the picture I’d been playing with nagged at me.

  I tapped the file and brought up one of Ava’s portraits. I’d taken several. She wore a formfitting short-sleeved black shirt with a high neckline. Her blond hair was secured in her signature tight bun, and small diamond studs adorned her ears.

  In the first picture, her body was turned away, and she looked at the camera over her shoulder with a slight tilt to her head. In the second, her body was angled away while she looked directly at the lens. In the third, I’d caught her with lips slightly parted, her head tilted a tad to the right, and a few soft tendrils of hair framing her face. That’d been a compromise, as I’d wanted her hair down for that shot. Getting her to do any other poses wasn’t possible, as she’d declined the more artistic ones I’d wanted to try. The light and position of her body created an approachable and soft effect.

  I hadn’t seen her writing in the Coffee Hut that morning, and when I’d texted on a break, she responded immediately, saying she was on a tight deadline and adding that she needed complete quiet. She was working from home but would be free Friday. We set up a lunch date, and I couldn’t wait.

  My gaze strayed to her portrait once more. The headshots were beautiful, but they made me uneasy. I couldn’t manipulate them to portray what I wanted. Groaning, I palmed my cell and sent a text to Ava: pictures done—want them emailed or show you on Friday?

  The three dots appeared, and I waited for her response. It came in one word. Friday. Nothing followed. She must have been swamped. I shrugged because I was too. Editing her pictures was how I procrastinated with assignments I had to finish for school. Closing her folder, I instead opened up the double-exposure-themed portfolio that was a portion of my graduate project. There wasn’t much left, but I wanted to go over every picture and ensure it was my best work.

  Along with the images, there were notes for each compiled in a document that would be submitted in conjunction with the collection. I loved working on themes and had learned quite a few new techniques in the graduate program. It had been well worth the move and investment.

  Toggling through the twelve frames, I paused on an image of a woman I’d captured from a side view, with her toes digging into the sand, gazing out at the ocean. That was the one that I’d chosen to have a greater density. Her long hair fell in waves down her back. Shoulders bare, her arms were loosely clasped around her legs. The double-exposure image contained a faded, surreal one where she maintained the same position, but with her head thrown back, conveying a deeper meaning as she consulted the sky overhead. The conflicting posture accented whimsy with a dash of indecision to her emotions.

  Many others showed glimpses at contrast or alignment with the nature around the person, hinting at synergy and symbolism. E
ach one told a story, conveying the emotions I’d caught. I loved them all and sought permission in the form of a model release so that I could sell them after leaving a copy with the university. That way, the project would be on file in the library.

  There were two left to edit, along with notes to compile, and the portfolio would be done. Mostly. I was toying with more themes. I wanted to give the collection my all, and it didn’t feel complete yet.

  I played around with one of the two pictures, adjusting the contrast until I was satisfied with the results. The notes wouldn’t take as long, and I planned to do them and the last touch-ups after I got something to eat. I set my laptop on the table then went into the kitchen, mixed a salad, poured a glass of tea, and sat at the small peninsula.

  After rinsing my dishes and stacking them in the dishwasher, I returned to the lanai and my homework. I’d gotten situated and settled in with my laptop when several texts pinged from my phone. Had to be Ava. I grabbed it and swiped the screen to read them, and my stomach dropped. In a quick switch, I set my computer on the table before it slid off my legs and went inside to pour some wine before I reread the messages. With alcohol to fortify my resolve, I returned outside with both the full glass and the rest of the bottle. I had a feeling I would need it.

  The string of texts was from Charles.

  Who was the guy you were with at the beach? How long have you been seeing him? End it. I’ll be over tonight.

  His frustration and anger were palpable through the words, some of them in caps. My hands shook as I replied that he was ridiculous and to stay away because he wasn’t welcome anymore. Before he could respond, I blocked him. Nervously, I bit my fingernail, contemplating what to do.

  He didn’t have a key.

  I would be okay.

  Either way, I typed in 9-1-1 and left it on the screen so that help would be on the way with a simple touch of the call button. I hoped that precaution would be enough.

  Late that night, a knock sounded at my door. I knew that impatient two-knuckle rap. I stood in my pajamas with my palm resting against the bolt, unwilling to open it.

  “Riley, it’s Charles.”

  The remorseful tone to his voice told me I wouldn’t need to call for reinforcements. I responded by telling him to go away. He wouldn’t. Instead, he begged me to hear him out. I wouldn’t open my apartment door. I slid down and leaned my forehead against the cool wood as he unburdened his soul. The only concession I would give him was listening.

  “I told her.”

  His wife. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs at his confession.

  “I got a lawyer and filed for divorce. We sat on the couch in the living room and talked. I can’t stop thinking about you, Riley. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, not her. You don’t know what it’s like, living with her. I’m not happy and haven’t been in a long time.”

  I didn’t ask what she’d said or if she was unhappy too. I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. This isn’t what I wanted.

  “Are you still there?” His voice was hoarse with emotion.

  “I am.” I closed my eyes against the futility of his plight and my unknowing hand in destroying his marriage and shattering another woman’s world.

  “I haven’t been myself and took my frustrations about my situation out on you. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t fair. You had no idea what I was dealing with. I won’t make that mistake again.” He cleared his throat. “Come back to me.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered, unsure if he would hear me through the thick barrier of the door between us.

  “Graduation is right around the corner. There won’t be anything stopping us,” he pleaded. “The divorce… she said she wouldn’t contest it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Please, Riley. We’re good together.” There was a wealth of pain and desperation in his voice.

  Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks. “No, Charles.” He would keep pressing me. I had to get through to him. “Our relationship was built on a lie. There isn’t any trust. I would always question why you were late or if there was someone else. It will not work, nor am I willing to try.” And somewhere along the way, I fell out of love with you.

  “I need you.”

  “I’m sorry.” I pushed away from the door, farther from where he sat on the other side. “Please go.”

  Xander

  I kicked my feet up on the ottoman as Jaxon came out to the porch and passed me a cold beer before he took the seat next to me. He had a sweet place on the beach in Honolulu, even if the condo was only a studio. My mind raced, and he shot me a knowing look.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Jaxon asked in his usual smooth drawl.

  “Have you found out who broke into Riley’s apartment yet?” I hated that she was there alone. Whoever it was could come back, and I wasn’t there to protect her. After she told me about the break-in and that Jaxon was the responding officer, I reached out to him immediately.

  “No, nothing. In fact, there weren’t any fingerprints on the clothes that were destroyed other than hers. I have to tell you, it looks a tad suspect.”

  Anger ripped through me. “That’s bullshit. I told you about the other day how she was attacked on the street.”

  “But you didn’t see it happen. I even double-checked for you, and there were no security cameras pointed in her direction.”

  “I saw the mark. She was gasping for breath.” I clenched my teeth. “It wasn’t fake.”

  Jaxon rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I didn’t get that impression from her either. She was genuinely frightened. I’ll do more drive-bys on her place when you’re on the island.” He let out a weary sigh. “There’s a detective on my ass about this case. He thinks I’m gunning for his job, so he’s making mine difficult.”

  I relaxed my jaw as understanding about his predicament filtered in. He’d probably poked his nose into the guy’s work, finding holes and pressuring for alternatives on the case because Riley was important to me. Also, Jaxon was thorough at anything he did, and he likely didn’t agree with whoever the detective was.

  “I’ll keep tabs on things.” As the seconds passed, the tension eased. “What else is on your mind?”

  I tipped the bottle to my lips then took a long pull, debating my answer. Silence hung between us as he waited. I’d looked at the mission from so many different angles. Talking to my brother could shed new light on what went wrong or reinforce what I worried about most.

  “No matter how much I try to put what happened out of my mind, I can’t shake the last mission.”

  “It was a shit show, all right,” Jaxon agreed. “Eerily similar to the one I was on before. Losing John was huge, and how it happened…”

  John had been my team leader too. It was a major blow when he was killed on Jaxon’s last mission. And then there were Jaxon’s injuries, which had concerned all of us. It shouldn’t have gone down like that. Something had to change, and I worried that the something was Daryl, our new team leader. “Yeah, and that’s just it. Why are we getting ambushed? Is it faulty intel or something worse?”

  His penetrating gaze shot to mine. “A mole?”

  Even him verbalizing that felt like a bad omen, as if uttering the possibility would make it a reality. “Could be.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, wishing there was no problem.

  “Have you talked to Mark again?”

  “Yeah, and that’s a good idea. But there’s more.” There was one other thing I wanted to share with him, as he hadn’t served under Daryl, but he knew him. “I can’t shake the problems we’re having with Daryl.” I’d learned he coveted a leadership position with Team 9, but then John died, and he got it. And then there was the last-minute op change that had resulted in Kyle losing his life.

  “He’s not John.” Jaxon took a long pull from his beer. “It could take a while to acclimate to his ways.”

  I shook my head. “It’s more than that.” Jaxon had a point, though,
and my suspicion about him could have been unfounded, colored by the personal distrust about how he’d stolen my girlfriend.

  “Then involve Mark.”

  I nodded. It was a good plan, one I would talk to Ty about. In the meantime, I would go over the imaging from the last mission with a fine-toothed comb. One way or another, I would find out what went wrong and who was to blame.

  15

  Riley

  The early-morning sun warmed my shoulders as I walked through the soft sand on the secluded beach. It was in the mid-seventies, and puffy clouds dotted the sky, perfectly cutting the glare for the pictures I wanted to take. My white cotton sundress with spaghetti straps stirred in the breeze.

  Today would be all about editing and work on my final graduate project. Tomorrow, I planned to spend part of the day with Xander. He’d texted me late last night, asking if I wanted to go to lunch before my shift. He would be heading to the island either that day or the next and wanted to see me before he left. I couldn’t help the way my heart had raced. I’d said yes on the spot.

  Not far from the water, I set my backpack down and pulled the tripod out. Once the legs were extended and secure in the sand, I locked my camera into position on top. I had a Bluetooth remote that I would hide in my hands to take the pictures.

  After checking through the lens’s view to make sure I would be in the frame when I moved to the front, I made the adjustments to the camera. The series would be double exposure. After playing around with a few others, there were still several poses I wanted. I got into position to begin.