by Paige Hill
I stare at him for a few seconds, letting his words sink in. It’s comforting to know that her friends care so much about her.
“23rd street, Miami Beach. That’s where she goes when she needs to think,” he says quietly.
“Thank you,” I utter, surprised at his willingness to tell me.
“But, listen… You hurt her again and I’ll have Ethan knock you out with a horse tranquilizer and I’ll dump you in the Everglades.”
I want to believe he’s kidding, but all hints of playfulness have left his expression.
“Understood,” I nod. “Thank you.”
Climbing into my car, I take a moment to think about the situation. The last thing I want to do is taint the place she goes to think and clear her head. If I show up there and she refuses to hear me out, will she forever associate it with a bad memory? I don’t want to take that from her.
I didn’t want to do it this way, but maybe I can convince her to see me. I dial the number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Hey, you’ve reached Celeste. I’m not available right now.” The sound of her voice makes my heart rate kick up to the point that I’m practically panting. “but if you leave your name and number, I probably won’t return your call. Don’t take it personal, I’m just forgetful. If you’re a bill collector, I put the check in the mail last week, I swear.”
Beep.
“We really need to talk and I’m not doing this over the phone. Will you please meet with me?”
Sighing, I hang up the phone, not yet ready to give up.
I don’t realize I’m so deep in my thoughts until my phone rings, making me drop it into the floorboard and it bounces under my seat.
“Shit,” I grumble, trying to fold myself in half as I reach for the phone.
My pulse races at the thought of Celeste reaching out to me, allowing me to apologize.
Feeling my fingers grasp at my phone, I pull it from under the seat. My face falls when I see it’s an unknown number calling instead of the one woman I want to talk to.
“Briggs,” I snap, annoyed.
“I’ve got information you’re going to want to see,” the voice on the other end asserts.
It takes only seconds for me to realize it’s Alex. “When?” I keep the conversation short and to the point.
“My place, now,” he demands.
“I need to get my partner.”
“No. You and you alone. I don’t trust anyone else.” His voice is deep, cutthroat almost. Maybe he’s tougher than I gave him credit for.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I rush out, ending the call. This is perfect. I need a damn distraction.
A short drive later, I pound the chipped wooden door, feeling the stares at my back.
“What do we got?” I ask, stepping forward as he opens the door.
He has what looks like surveyor maps draped over the dining table and most of the floor. Each map has a black circle, indicating a specific point. Next to the maps are various empty energy drink cans and stacked notebooks.
“They are his drop locations. Each one has a different purpose, but the drugs pass through every single one.” He pauses momentarily. “Except this one.” He points to a map. The closer I get, I notice it’s in the general vicinity of the shipping docks.
“What goes through there?” I ask, and the minute the question leaves my lips, my stomach sours. Fuck!
“Girls,” he grits through his teeth.
I focus on breathing through my nose to keep myself calm.
“I have a hunch, though,” he shrugs. “It may be nothing, but I don’t think Alvarez supplies the girls. I think he just arranges transportation.”
I think about his statement. It’s possible, I suppose.
“I need to take these with me to the office,” I state, expecting him to argue.
“Here,” he says, shoving notebooks at me. “I made notes over time. There are logs of his transactions, his whereabouts when I was allowed to know, and information about his associates.
I stare down at the information he’s provided. It’s a damn goldmine.
“Damn, kid. You ever consider a career in intelligence?” I ask as I flip through the incredibly detailed pages. I’m thoroughly impressed with his work.
When I look up, a sheepish smile lights up his face, reminding me just how young he is. This kid has a bright future.
As long as I don’t fuck this up.
I gave her a full twenty-four hours. I stare at my mockingly silent phone and decide to text her. I wish I could tell her I found Alex. That he’s alive. She deserves to be told the truth, but there are too many lives at risk. Namely hers. It’s not just the risk of Alvarez finding Alex. What if he found Celeste?
It’s a nightmare I don’t care to explore. I’m just going to have to trust that when the time comes, and everything is out in the open, she will understand. She has to realize that the fewer people involved, the fewer lives I put in danger. It’s the only option I have right now. Not that she’s been given a reason to trust me.
Aiden: Will you please fucking call me? We need to talk about this.
Almost immediately the three little dots disappear and reappear several times as she starts to type but stops. I stare at the screen and blink rapidly as I start to wonder if you can see a mirage when you’re sitting in your living room.
My phone dings and nervousness sends a wave of nausea crashing into my stomach.
Celeste: Aiden, we had a good time, but it’s just time to move on.
Celeste: P.S. You can do better.
Aiden: I’m trying to…
When she doesn’t respond, I fight the urge to call her again. I need to get it together before I move into full blown stalker status.
My frustration grows with each passing day. Erin still has no identity on the man known only as J. He has a thick presence with the underground, but that’s all he is—a goddamn name.
I’m still not comfortable with the so-called “security measures” taken for Celeste, but I don’t have a lot I can do about it. At my request, black and whites patrol her neighborhood several times a day and Erin finally agreed to tap into the security cameras at the salon.
I haven’t attempted to contact her since she told me it was time to move on. I’ve given her almost five days and it’s killing me to know she thinks I want Gwen over her. Gwen is the last woman I want to touch.
Gwen’s sudden reappearance in my life has started to fuck with my head. After my life fell apart, it took me four years to let it go and move on. Seeing her does nothing but dredge up emotions I’ve long since locked away. I didn’t know it was even possible to love that deeply. But life isn’t fair, and people are never who you think they are. Memories flood my thoughts and I feel my heart break all over again. I didn’t think I had anything left to break, but here I am. Pulling the framed photo off my dresser, I let the tears fall freely for the first time in years. I feel raw. Broken. Every cell of my being has been pillaged and left to burn.
Running my fingers over the cool glass, I hear my intercom burst to life.
“Mr. Briggs, someone has dropped an envelope off for you. Shall I bring it up?”
Setting the picture of the only female I’ve ever truly loved back on the dresser, I head toward the living room. Taking a few deep breaths, I wipe my eyes on my shirt and gather my composure.
“If you would please. Thanks, Ernesto.” My voice comes out rough, like a man at the end of his life. “Just slip it under the door.” It’s rude, but I can’t face anyone right now.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be right up.”
A few moments later, a white envelope slips under the door. My name is the only thing written on the exterior. Tearing it open, I unfold a slip of paper and some cash.
Aiden,
Thank you for your generosity. Here is a small chunk of what I owe you. I will drop an envelope off every month until I’ve repaid you.
That’s it. She didn’t even sign her name.
<
br /> I pace the room, knowing she is officially done with my ass. I feel like a ticking time bomb, but instead of exploding, destroying everything around me, I implode. Just a big black hole that sucks everything good from my life.
I don’t know why I allow it, but the shadows of the past creep into my subconscious. The mind is funny like that. All I want is to take my mind off this woman, and suddenly, the most horrific experience in my life comes barreling back. I’m a ship sinking in my own misery as my thoughts puncture the hull.
Pressure from everything that’s been thrown at me becomes a burden too heavy to lift. I’m a coward, hiding from things I fear like a little boy under his sheets at night. I have a case to focus on, one that holds the fate of Celeste’s family. I need to man up, but I can’t seem to find the energy. Depression is a slippery slope—one I am all too familiar with.
My head isn’t in a good place and I’m seventeen kinds of fucked up, but I don’t have the strength to fight those demons today. Grabbing a bottle of bourbon, I flop heavily onto the couch and tip the bottle back. My extremities warm as the liquor wraps me up in a tender hug, telling me it’s going to be okay.
I just want to be numb again.
I’m putting a band-aid on a severed arm at this point, but I don’t care. I can feel myself slipping back toward the familiar darkness. A darkness I know will destroy me. Why fight for my life when I was helpless to fight for the most important one, all those years ago.
Chapter Twenty
Aiden
The shrill sound of my phone ringing for the thousandth time pierces the cloudiness in my brain.
When are they going to figure out that I am not in the mood? No, I don’t want to talk about it.
The intercom buzzes to life and I lie there waiting for whomever it is to go the fuck away. The buzzer goes off again and I know I can no longer ignore it. Stumbling over the trash and empty bottles, I lean against the wall and hit the speaker.
“What?” I slur.
“Uh, Mr. Briggs, there is someone here to see you.”
“Ernesto, I told you I didn’t want visitors.” Not a difficult concept to follow.
“Yes, sir. I remember, but he’s insist—” He’s cut off and another more annoying voice fills my living room.
“Open the damn door before I shoot him and beat you with his dead body,” Declan growls. Shit, he’s pissed.
Not having the energy to argue with either of them, I buzz him in. Falling back onto my personal island of misery known as the couch, I tip a beer bottle back, only to find it empty.
The front door opens with a crash, slamming against the wall with unnecessary force.
“Get the fuck up,” he snaps.
“Get the fuck out.” I glare at my best friend.
He looks around the room, no doubt taking in the disheveled state of my home. I try to see it through his eyes, but I just can’t bring myself to care. I’m usually an incredibly tidy person. The days old food, dirty clothes, and empty bottles would make my skin crawl. But not right now. Hell, I’d kill to feel that kind of disgust. To feel anything aside from the soul sucking guilt and hate that’s taken over my every thought.
“Look man, we aren’t going down this road again. I’m not going to sit back and watch you destroy yourself over this.”
He knows exactly what the hell he’s doing when those words leave his mouth. “Watch your mouth.”
“Or what? Your ass can’t even stand up. You going to tell me what the hell happened at the party?”
I lean forward, placing my head in my hands, trying to slow the spinning in my head. “I fucked up.” Because of my suspicions about Alex, he’s already well aware of everything that developed between Celeste and me before that night. “Gwen’s back.”
“What the fuck, man?” The lines of his face harden. “Tell me this isn’t about her.”
“Not entirely. I fucked around with Celeste at the party. Gwen showed up and Celeste saw us.” The look on her gorgeous face is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. There was so much hurt in her eyes. And I’m the one who put it there. I never should have touched Celeste. Her world is better without the darkness I bring. I knew better than to roll the dice. I gambled and lost it all.
Declan’s nostrils flare with anger and his fist lays me out on the floor before my alcohol riddled brain can process the emotion. I want to be pissed, but I had it coming.
“I warned you!” he shouts. “Of all the women in Miami to fuck over, you had to pick Teagan’s best friend?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I mumble, trying to pick myself up off the floor. If I weren’t so drunk, that would have hurt like a bitch. “I fully intended to spend the rest of the night with Celeste. Gwen threw herself at me. I didn’t kiss her back. But Celeste won’t let me explain.”
“You have two options here. One—you can get your ass up, take a shower, and be the man you promised you would be six years ago, or two—I can kick your ass and you do it anyway. I’ll be waiting in the kitchen.” He walks away, headed to make himself a damn sandwich.
Staring at my hands, I let his words sink in and they slay me.
You made her a fucking promise.
Staring at the envelope on the table, an idea takes root. I may be a monumental fuckup, but I have a promise to keep and a case to solve. All I’m doing is letting Alex down. If something happens to him and I have to explain to Celeste that it’s my fault… I’ll never come back from that.
CELESTE
“Okay, I’ve held off because I know you weren’t ready to share, but what the hell is going on with you and Briggs?” Teagan asks over a mouthful of ice cream. We’ve decided to try the romantic movie night idea one more time.
“Nothing is going on,” I breathe deeply, preparing myself for this inevitable conversation. “We kind of had hate sex once.”
She smiles wide, running her tongue across her teeth. “I knew it!” Her smile falls as she continues, “Celeste, there’s something you should know. It’s obvious this is more than one hot session of hate sex.”
“I never said it was hot,” I smirk.
“I have eyes, woman.” She throws a knowing look my way and her gloomy tone continues. “Briggs isn’t taking things well.”
“What do you mean?” Worry creeps into my spine.
“I don’t even know what happened, but Declan told me he’s been through a lot and has certain… Triggers.”
“That didn’t really answer the question.”
“He went on a bender. He’s been so drunk he can’t stand up for the last several days. They granted a last-minute waiver for personal time from work. Ramos knows about his past and said he didn’t want him at work if he couldn’t get his head together. The case they are working on is apparently sensitive. That news didn’t make things any better.” Her worried face pinches as she continues, “Declan went over there last night to talk to him about it. I haven’t had a chance to ask questions, but I get the feeling their conversation required more than words.”
The thought of him drowning in his own personal hell guts me. I rub my chest trying to take away the sudden ache, but this is exactly why we should have never gotten involved. I hate that Aiden has demons, but that doesn’t change anything between us.
When I finally made it home after starting the new year off with smeared makeup and shredded pride, Emily was thankfully still asleep. I didn’t need a witness for my uncontrolled emotion. And like always, the most reliable man in my life was there to cheer me up.
Furb leaps onto the couch as if he knew I was thinking about him. Lightly petting his ridiculously fluffy fur, I finally purge Aiden from my system. I tell Teagan everything—my time at his apartment, my brother, the woman I now know as Gwen. All of it. When I’ve finally finished spilling the drama surrounding my life, she just stares at me with wide eyes.
“Wow.”
“I know. I knew better than to play that game. But it’s over now and we can move on like it never happened.”
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.” She tries to hide a smile.
Ding dong.
“Who’s that?” she asks, curious.
“I don’t know. I didn’t invite anyone else and Emily is with my mom.”
Checking the peephole cautiously, I see a delivery man in an ugly brown uniform.
“Hello,” I say as I open the door. I realize it’s not as late as I thought it was when I see the sun hasn’t fully set.
“Hi, are you Celeste Martinez?” he asks, looking impatient.
“Yeah.”
“Sign here.” He thrusts the clipboard toward me.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“Someone did. This is your name and address,” he mumbles as I sign and hand it back. That’s when I notice the moving dolly behind him.
“Where do you want these?”
“Uh, bring them in and set them right over there.” I point toward the dining area.
“What is it?” Teagan asks as she comes up behind me.
The delivery man hands me a delivery receipt as I thank him and shut the door. Looking at the slip, I see it’s from a local baby store. An expensive one.
“I think it’s baby stuff.”
“Maybe it’s a mistake,” she offers, inspecting the boxes.
“That’s what I thought at first, but it’s addressed to me.”
Investigating the delivery receipt again, my shoulders slump in defeat. Aiden’s name stands out against the yellow sheet next to the line labeled ‘Purchaser’.
“Aiden did it,” I mumble, realizing the purchase price is almost the exact amount I paid him back.
“What? Why?” she questions, standing to retrieve the sheet from my fingers.
“For once in your life, don’t argue and just say thank you,” she reads the ‘special instructions’ line aloud. “Bossy bastard.”
There are so many emotions running through me that I feel like Bob Barker’s wheel as it continues to circle, teasing the spinner. It pisses me off that he thinks he can just throw money around and everything will be peachy. Why can’t he just leave me in peace?