Shameless Kisses: 3:AM Kisses 18

by Moore, Addison

  “Hey, good looking.” Eli waggles his brows, and I laugh, feeling instantly relieved. “I hear you’re having a dry spell.” He nods for us to get the hell out of here, and we do.

  Eli and I hit a street vendor for dinner—single sliced pizza, thick crust, sauce like nobody’s business, and a two-inch layer of mozzarella at least. It tastes like an Italian paradise. We walk toward Central Park, and the leaves blow down from the tress, already ruby red and dry as paper. We stroll hand in hand until the sun sets and then head back to our room. Eli puts on a game, and I sit next to him, wrapping my arms around his body without asking permission, sulking as if the world were ending.

  “Whoa. Everything okay, Kitten?” He gives the back of my head a quick scratch. “You want to control the remote?”

  I glance up, my view of him obstructed by tears.

  “Hey”—he pulls me up a notch and lands a warm kiss to the top of my head—“tell me what’s happening. Are you bored? You want to go out?”

  I playfully swat him. “I am not bored, and I couldn’t care less about the remote.” My mouth opens for a moment. I can go either way with this—kiss Eli or admit to him that I’ve been playing in shark-infested waters. I wisely go for the kiss.

  I lean up and land my lips softly over his before pulling back to inspect his reaction.

  Eli pumps out a weak smile. “That was nice.”

  “I can make it nicer.” I dive back over him and kiss him like I mean it, like I was gunning for more from him tonight, and maybe I am. Eli pulls me on top of him and holds me tight as if he were afraid I might float off the bed and head straight for the ceiling. In truth, I could. Eli’s kisses make me feel lighter than air. His hands warm my back, pulsing over my sweater, and I crave for them to dip underneath it.

  If it were possible to wrangle more out of Eli, tonight is the night I’d like to do it. Not just in an attempt to take my mind off of that lunatic that’s haunting me, but because I want to.

  I’m craving Eli Gates, and I’ll do anything to have him. And I do mean anything.

  Eli pulls back and dots my nose with his finger. “Feeling better?”

  I take a deep breath, and a laugh bounces out of me. “That’s hard for me to say.” My voice shakes without meaning to.

  “Then tell me what’s got you so shaken. If my kisses can’t cure it, I damn well want to know what I’m up against.”

  “Okay. But don’t be upset with me. I’m plenty upset with myself for the both of us.”

  His head ticks back a notch. “Why would I be upset with you?”

  I pull my phone off the nightstand and hand it over to him. “Because I brought this on myself.”

  Eli scrolls through the pictures and groans. “Crap,” he hisses.

  Crap indeed.

  Eli

  No sooner do Harley and I get back to Whitney Briggs, do I get her back to her dorm safe and sound, than I head out onto the field and call my aunt.

  “Well, if it isn’t the boy who comes to New York but doesn’t spend a stitch of time with me,” she teases.

  “That would be me. I’m sorry. Look, I think I’m having a problem—with him. I want his number. I want some way that I can contact him.” And verify that the number I swiped from Harley’s phone is one in the same.

  I’m met with silence on the other end of the line. “You sound hostile. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  A gruff laugh bounces through me. “You’re kidding me, right? You’ve been the biggest cheerleader for the two of us to make amends, and now you’re exercising caution because of the inflection in my voice? I’m fine, I promise. I’m ready to do this.” I’m lying. I am not ready to do this. I’m not interested in doing this. “This is something that’s been a long time coming. It’s been a half a decade since my family died. I think it’s time. Don’t you?”

  “You almost have me fooled.” She chuckles in that way she’s prone to do when she’s apprehensive. “You can’t take this lightly, Eli. I want this to work out for you—for the both of you. The last time you spoke, things ended badly.”

  “People died.”

  “And the fact you relate one event to the next is a problem for me. I don’t want you blaming him. It wasn’t his fault. It was nobody’s fault.” Instinctually, I want to hang up on her. My thumb is itching to float over that little red button. I take a deep breath instead and nod to no one in particular. “Okay. Hell, I’ll do it your way. I’m coming back to the city next weekend. Does that work?”

  “He’s not here. He’s down there with you.”

  That’s what she thinks. If I’m right, and I am, he’s in both places.

  “Let’s do this”—she sighs into the phone—“how about I feel him out? I’ll talk to him first, and then if he’s game, the ball is in your court. I’ll give you his number, the whole nine yards.”

  Crap. Something tells me he will not be game because he’s already entrenched in one.

  “Yes. That’s—uh, perfect. I’m free the rest of the day, but if that’s too soon, I’ll make it work sometime this week. Where is he, anyway? What’s he up to?” If she’s not willing to give me an all-access pass, maybe she’ll give up the information one sound bite at a time.

  “That’s for him to tell you. It’ll give you something to talk about during the reunion. Eli, I’m just so happy I could cry.”

  “Don’t cry. I love you. I know you just want the best for me.”

  “For the both of you. I know this might sound crass, considering the circumstances, but you are my sons.”

  “Nice.” And one of her sons just so happens to be a very bad seed. “Call me as soon as you hear something.”

  “Will do.”

  We hang up, and I head to the gym to pump some iron. If I’m going to meet up with the Shark, I might as well beef up my left hook.

  After all, they say the best way to ward off an attack by one of those creatures is to sock it in the nose.

  And I plan on doing just that.

  * * *

  Okay, so it might have been a misnomer for me to think pumping a little iron would calm me down, get my mind off of things, and make me feel as if I’ve gotten the upper hand.

  I land the weight bar back on the hooks and just lie there, sweat running down my face, painfully hot.

  Options. I try to map them all out and lay them in front of me like playing cards. I can call Lauren to see if she’s heard from him.

  I shake my head at the idea.

  Nope.

  As much as I don’t want to deal with him, I sure as hell don’t want to speak with her.

  In the grand scheme of things, she was just as much to blame for what happened. But not the fallout. I would never pin the horrific fallout on Lauren. No. I might have strong feelings about what she did, but in no way would I peg that on her.

  It’s him I peg it on, because on him it sticks. He is to blame for so very much. He is the very real reason there are three people missing from the planet. Of course, last I heard he was singing the very same song—insert my name instead of his. It’s funny how two people can essentially go through the very same experience and come out of it feeling polar-opposite about what just occurred.

  But to go this far? To haunt Harley?

  Crap. He’s gone psychotic. And I’m not entirely sure what kind of a point he’s trying to make. The only thing I’m able to rationalize is that he somehow calculated that she would show me the texts. At the end of the day, his beef is with me.

  But why Harley? Is she Lauren 2.0? Or maybe he just wanted to mess with me for old times’ sake. A little reminder of what he’s capable of.

  A towel lands on my face, and I swipe it off as I struggle to sit up.

  “What’s going on?” Lawson snatches it back and takes a seat across from me. “You look as if someone just took your dog.”

  I give a slow blink. “Something like that.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Harley?”

  I give a wistful sh
ake of the head. “Oddly enough, it does.”

  “Lay it on me, man. I may not be able to help, but I’m damn sure you’ll feel better getting it off your chest. Trust me, I’ve suffered through enough therapy to know these things.”

  And I do. I circumvent any major details that might give the rat bastard away but spill enough to where I’ve piqued Lawson’s attention.

  I shrug as I look to him. “Know of anyone who might be able to trace a number?”

  Lawson glances past me as he considers this. “As a matter of fact, I do. Let’s ditch this place and I’ll take you there now.”

  Lawson and I make tracks without bothering to change.

  Maybe, just maybe, I can get some answers today.

  * * *

  Seth Baker is married to Sunday Baker, who used to go by the surname Knight—as in Rush Knight. Sunday is Rush’s little sister, and that explains why we’re looking at his ugly mug in Sunday and Seth’s apartment.

  “What gives?” Rush asks without looking over. His full attention is upon that adorable little niece of his, Rissy, who looks about as big as a football.

  “Geez, she’s cute,” I say, peering down at the swaddled pink bundle. She looks like Sunday, same smooth features, adorable nose, and tiny rosebud lips. Not that I’ve been checking Sunday out, but they’ve both got that feminine vibe going on.

  I wonder what Harley’s baby girl would look like. Probably darker skin, darker hair, too, and lots of it. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to start a family with Harley, what it would feel like to hold our baby, and a flash of heat rides through me.

  Snap out of it, dude. Not happening. My gut wrenches as if it wanted it to.

  “Thank you.” Sunday leans into Seth, her better half. Sunday looks like Rush in female skin, but prettier and nicer.

  Seth is on the basketball team. We’ve known each other for as long as he’s been at Briggs—dark hair, intimidating stature.

  Lawson slaps me over the back. “Eli’s got a problem, and I knew Baker was the one to see.”

  Sunday bubbles with a laugh as she looks to Seth. “Which Baker?”

  Rush grunts, “I’m guessing the one that holds the dumb end of the stick.” He flashes that killer grin at his brand new brother-in-law.

  Sunday and Seth live across the street from WB in the Briggs Apartment Building. They’re both still enrolled and going strong, academically speaking. From what I understand, Sunday is taking a couple of online classes this semester.

  Lawson chuckles over at Seth. “That would be correct. Sunday has the brain around here.”

  Seth nods my way. “Let’s hear it. What’s going on?”

  I start in carefully, painfully aware that Sunday is in the room, and she just so happens to be Serena’s cousin—and Serena just so happens to be Harley’s roommate. But I put aside the fear of the rumor mill and lay it all out there as much as I did with Seth. I want to help Harley any way I can. My objective isn’t to embarrass her. It’s to track down this idiot and shake the living hell out of him for putting her through this.

  “All right.” Seth leads us to the kitchen table where a laptop sits open. “Give me the number. I’ll do my best to find out what I can.”

  The baby begins to whimper, and Sunday takes her from Rush and excuses herself from the room.

  Rush takes a seat across from me, staring at me as if he were about to pound a hole through my skull.

  “You know we’re going to have to tell Harper. Knox, too.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I say, sounding a lot like Harley in the process. “Harley doesn’t want to worry them. This is her deal.”

  Lawson shakes his head. “You said this dude had pictures of you walking her to her dorm and the front of the hotel she’s staying at in New York.”

  I may have edited out more information than necessary, but, believe me, it’s for everyone’s safety. I don’t need heads exploding over the fact I kissed Harley. Those were innocent kisses.

  Weren’t they?

  “Okay”—Seth interrupts the conversation, and I’m glad about it—“so we’ve got a number proprietary to the area. Hollow Brook and Hollow Brook Hills. They’re both good. So, your guy is local.”

  I grunt without meaning to. “I got that from the area code.”

  Seth nods. “But did you get a billing address?” A greedy spreads wide over his face.

  “Give it to me,” I say, breathless.

  He spins the laptop around, and I take a picture of the screen with my phone in the event an act of God decides to blip it out of existence.

  “Crap,” I say as I take a better look at it. “A P.O. box?”

  Lawson leans in to get a better look himself. “Sounds like this stalker knows his stuff and he’s taken a little preemptive action.”

  “That he has. But look at the name. S. Anderson.” I swallow hard. The only Anderson I knew was Lauren. “He’s sending a message.”

  Seth looks up at me. “What does it mean?”

  “It’s personal. I know the dude. This solidifies it.”

  Rush shakes his head. “It makes no sense. Why go through the trouble of hiding your identity if you’re going to give it away one puzzle piece at a time?”

  “Because he likes games.” And he likes to torment me.

  Seth snaps his laptop shut with a marked finality. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s time to call the police. And if you don’t, I will.”

  I glance around the table, desperate to stave them off from doing just that.

  “I just need one more week. And if I don’t nail the guy by then, be my guest.”

  But I will.

  I am going to nail that bastard to a wall. And then I’m going to crack his skull open.

  And not one person, not even the police, will be able to stop me.

  End Game

  Harley

  The Mustangs are up seventeen to six, and while my sister screams her head off for Knox, I scream my head off for Eli—albeit on the sly.

  Instead of sitting in the student section with Teagan and Colby, I’m warm and cozy in the alumni section with my mother, her oddball boyfriend, Brad, and my sweet brother, Henry.

  Henry is about to turn twenty-eight in a month. He has cystic fibrosis, which makes taking a decent breath a living chore. He’s got his portable oxygen tank with him in a backpack over his shoulder, and if you didn’t notice his wheezing, you would think he’s like everyone else, because newsflash, he is.

  My mom is an artist who has recently dyed her hair a shocking shade of red—think Little Mermaid. And her boyfriend, Brad, is her junior by too many years for me to count. He’s a hot yoga instructor, and that’s how they met—and I mean hot in the literal sense. He digs her art, and she digs his man bun. That’s a direct quote from my mother. Ew, and yuck is all I have to say about my mother and Brad.

  Henry knocks his elbow into my rib. “Knox is killing it.” He takes a labored breath, and those serious brown eyes of his bear into me as if he were about to read my mind and find out all the covert info regarding Eli and me. Sorry, Henry, but I’m keeping those delicious kisses all to myself. At least for now. Eli and I are definitely not ready for prime time. “So, which player are you interested in?” He gives a sly wink.

  Henry is a looker in his own right. He’s already sifted through about three or four serious girlfriends. I guess what they say is true. You can’t keep a good man down.

  “What makes you think I’m interested in anybody?” I snort, trying to play it off. Henry has always had the uncanny ability to know me better than I know myself.

  “Because you’re”—he picks his mouthpiece up and takes a hard-earned puff—“you’re cheering. You hate football.”

  I can’t help but shoot him a wry smile. “I like Knox, and he happens to be playing.” I try to shrug it off, but Henry isn’t buying it. “Okay, fine.” I sneak a glance over to my mother, Brad, and my sister—all who seem heavily immersed in the play at
hand. “I may be cheering for someone, but I won’t admit it to anyone but you.”

  He honks out a laugh, takes a puff of oxygen, and laughs some more. “You realize I’m going to have to vet this guy. Invite him to dinner.”

  It was Mom’s idea to hit a late-night diner after the game. Knox is going. I can’t imagine why I couldn’t invite Eli. And this way my mother can meet the guy I’ve been traipsing off to New York with. I scowl playfully at my brother.

  “I’ll do it. But be nice. Nobody knows how I feel but you.” I wrinkle my nose at the field. “Not even him.”

  The rest of the game goes off with lots of screaming and cheering that doesn’t even mildly amuse me. I don’t understand the game. I don’t pretend to. When Brad and my brother cry out in agony, I know it’s not going well for the Mustangs. When they stand and howl their heads off, I do the same because I figure it has to be a pretty good thing.

  All I know is that the Mustangs win. And the best part of all, immediately after the game, I follow number forty-two as if my life depended on it. Eli takes off for the student section and straight for Teagan and Colby. Serena actually made an appearance tonight as well, along with her hotshot attorney boyfriend, Shep. They’re seated in the student section, too. As much as I love my family, I wish I could have been in both places at once.

  Eli turns around and runs in this direction. I gave my friends explicit instructions to send that boy to the alumni section if he came looking for me. A part of me knew he would. I’d like to think it’s because he’s crushing hard and he can’t wait to hop on the Harley Express, but, unfortunately, it has more to do with the shark circling my life than it does with me. Right now, Eli is in protective mode. And as much as I hate the situation, I don’t mind him wanting to protect me one bit.

  I stand and wave as he heads over with Knox.

  Harper leaps down and falls into her boyfriend’s arms. I watch as he spins her and lands a sweaty kiss to her lips. It all looks so romantic. Harper has always had a Cinderella life.