by Ember Leigh
There was no Cobra.
Her stomach twisted. Of course Cobra wasn’t his given name. She knew plenty about pseudonyms. But how could she enact her plan if she didn’t even know his real name? She nibbled on her bottom lip, combing through the list again. Waiting for one to jump out at her.
When the name didn’t magically reveal itself, she started the process of elimination. Lexington Olivo and Travis Holt—easy. Geo Reddicker—a part-time trainer she didn’t see often. Hawk Romano—she couldn’t recall his face, but she’d heard plenty about him. A fighter who’d lost a big match earlier in the year. She frowned, copied the names to a Word document to better pare it back.
After taking out all the female names and scouring her memory for the rest of the weight room, training, MMA camp, and janitorial staff, three names remained. Brendan Yountz, Harold Pfeiffer, and Drew Sutton.
Gen blew out a burst of air. She imagined Cobra as a Brendan, then as a Harold, then as a Drew. All of them somehow fit but also didn’t as Cobra’s legal name. She looked at the addresses of each. Couldn’t place a single street listed. And then she remembered—the phone numbers.
One employee had a cell listed, which didn’t match Cobra’s number. So that eliminated Drew. So that meant Cobra had to be a Brendan or a Harold.
Gen tapped her finger on the desk as she thought about other ways to be a detective. This stuff didn’t come easily to her. She didn’t tend to poke or prod where she wasn’t supposed to. The moralizing whine in the back of her head told her to keep her head down and let it go. This was wrong. This was spying.
But before she could convince herself to drop it, one more idea occurred to her. She clicked through tabs, finding the pay stub information. Dates of issue, for as far back as she could find.
Harold had been receiving paychecks from Holt Body for the last two years.
Brendan, only three months.
Gen nodded, her belly tightening with excitement. So Cobra was Brendan after all. She scribbled down his address. Time to make a house call.
The late afternoon churned on in a formless blur. Once she was in her car and using the GPS to find Cobra’s apartment, she realized she couldn’t even recall leaving the gym or whether or not she’d said goodbye to anyone.
Each mile she progressed, her belly twisted harder. Already, she knew Cobra would be mad. She expected that. He’d made it clear from the start that people didn’t go to his house. And maybe it was her own morbid curiosity convincing her to turn his absence into an emergency. Maybe she was just desperate to see him.
Maybe this was what falling in love felt like. Pure insanity. Melanie had made some reference to a movie called Fatal Attraction the other day. Something about a rabbit. Maybe Gen was already off the deep end, between Bunny and tracking down Cobra at his house.
Gen missed the small entrance to a dilapidated apartment complex, so she had to make a lap around the block. Abandoned cars sat with hoods open, wheels missing. Weeds sprouted through cracks, and even though the sun shone strong, she still felt chilly here. Cobra’s apartment complex had a wooden sign hung on the faded red brick, but no trace of the words remained. Instead, someone had spray painted the word Bitch in neon orange.
Gen sat in her car for a few moments, gathering her courage. This looked like the type of place her father had warned her about. She felt it down to her bones. Now she saw—Cobra didn’t want her here. And maybe she shouldn’t be here.
But she hadn’t come all this way for nothing. With a deep breath, she pushed her car door open and stepped outside, peering up at the building. The door pushed open, and a wild-haired woman stepped out, glaring at Gen immediately.
“The fuck you lookin’ at?” she muttered as she shuffled away into the parking lot.
Gen rubbed damp palms on her black work shorts and hurried toward the door. Apartment 21F. She’d memorized his address, probably could recite it until the day she died.
Inside the building, the smell of mold assaulted her. Bass thumped through distant walls in time with heated arguments and the smell of onions. She scanned the nearby doors, then hurried up the stairs. 21F—the last one on the left. She took a deep breath.
And then she knocked.
At first nothing happened. The same muted undertones from everywhere around her continued. She knocked again. Her stomach wrenched, and suddenly she had to pee. This had been a bad idea. She should never have come.
No answer.
She knocked one more time, more forcefully than before. Starting a slow count in her head, she gave herself until ten. And then she’d leave, tail between her legs.
One…Two…Three…
Stomps sounded from behind the door. A low, guttural laugh. The door whipped open, and a man with spiky black hair stared out at her. His beard scruff was unkempt, and he looked like maybe he hadn’t seen the outside world in days. His eyes widened when he saw Gen.
“Well, hello. You came to the right place, whatever it is.”
Gen stepped back instinctively. His eyes were bloodshot, and a strange smell seeped out of the apartment. Like old cooking oil and body odor.
“I…I’m looking for Cobra,” she said, the words barely making it past her lips.
His brows shot up. “No shit? Is this part of the Singing Slut-o-gram he ordered?” He stepped back to call into the apartment, allowing a glimpse of the living room. It was underwhelming—threadbare carpets, low, lumpy couches, and an enormous television.
“Tyler,” the guy went on, “get your ass out here. We’ve got a visitor.”
Gen straightened. “I’m looking for Cobra.”
A muffled voice from inside the apartment, and then the man in front of her said, “Some sexy red-head you clearly ordered for the gang bang.”
Gen’s stomach tightened, and she gripped her purse. Something thudded from inside the apartment. Footsteps pounded for a moment before Cobra bolted into the doorway. He grabbed his friend by the collar of his shirt.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Cobra snarled, and pushed him away. He darted into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him. Protests swelled behind the closed door. Cobra didn’t move his hand from the knob.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed. Bloodshot eyes stared back at her, sending her stomach into a free fall. Her voice dried up. She had no idea anymore.
“I wanted to check on you,” she whispered, searching his face, searching for any sign of the man who had pressed her to her desk and called her beautiful. “You haven’t been into work. I was worried.”
The door rattled behind him. His bicep flexed with the effort of keeping it shut.
“Come onnn, Coby!” wailed a roommate. “We wanna play too!”
“Are they your friends?” she asked.
“You need to leave,” Cobra said. And there was no room for question there. Not even a hint of doubt. Finally, she was inclined to believe him.
“I need to make sure you’re okay,” she insisted. What she’d seen told her he was not okay. Why did he live here? Why were those weird men his friends? It only deepened the Grand Canyon-sized rift between their lives.
“Yeah, doing great.” His nostrils flared. “I’m walking you to your car.” He turned and opened the door, issued a stern warning to the roommates inside, and then slammed it shut.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing her by the elbow. Her gaze darted down his body, over the stained gray T-shirt, down the loose black workout shorts, all the way down to his bare feet. And somehow, seeing his bare feet drove it home. She’d intruded on him. No matter how he lived, it was his choice. And she’d butted in.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted as he guided her down the steps, his footsteps falling softly. “You weren’t answering my texts. I could tell you were upset on Wednesday. And I just—”
“Gen, you gotta learn to stop giving a damn.” He pushed through the front door. The door clanged shut behind them. He searched the lot briefly before heading toward her car. “I can’t believe you f
ucking showed up here. You have no fucking idea. You don’t belong here. And you better not pull this shit again.”
She blinked rapidly, fighting a wave of emotion threatening to turn into tears. God, she hated being reprimanded. It always took her back to her childhood. When she’d recited the Bible incorrectly. When she’d spoken out of turn. When she’d done anything too assertively, too aggressively.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice watery. “I can’t stop giving a damn. I care about you.”
He let go of her arm near her car and sighed heavily, rubbing at his face. “How did you find out where I live?”
“I looked in the system at work,” she whispered.
Finally, a grin cracked across his face. But it only lasted a second. “I thought that shit was protected.”
“It is.”
“Jesus, Gen. Now you’re hacking computers or something?”
She shook her head. “This was important. You’re important.”
His face hardened. “No, I’m not. Now go.”
“At least tell me if you’re going to be at work on Monday.”
“I don’t know.”
She scoffed, throwing her arms up. “Are you kidding me? Why would you just let this job go?”
Cobra looked over his shoulder, as if checking to make sure nobody watched them. He stepped closer then, lowering his voice. “I’m not kidding. You need to leave. I don’t want people to see you here.”
“Why?”
“It’s not safe.”
“And you live here?”
Cobra opened her driver’s side door, pointing to the seat. “Go.”
She watched him a moment longer, unwilling to let this be the way she left. So many questions remained. But she’d been pushy enough. Her brave reserves were spent. It was time to go home and crawl into her bed.
“Don’t disappear, Cobra,” she said softly. “I want to see you again.”
His jaw worked side to side for a moment. “Go, Gen.”
She huffed and sat inside the car. He shut her door before she could say another word. When she started the car, he headed back to the building but must have thought better of it because he turned around and came back. She rolled down her window, and he pressed his forehead to the doorframe. Searing her with a look that made her tense, but hopeful.
“I’ll come over this weekend,” he said. His voice had lost the razor edge. The anger had ebbed. “Tomorrow. Maybe. Okay?”
She nodded, unable to fight the victorious smile.
“Now, get the fuck out of here.” He sent her a stern look, and she rolled her window up promptly. He watched her from the sidewalk as she pulled out, his dark-chocolate gaze sending electricity through her even as she watched him through the rear-view mirror.
Once she hit the highway, she finally relaxed. She wasn’t sure if that had been a blazing success or failure. The only thing she knew was that she’d followed her gut.
And that, more than anything, was the real success.
Chapter 28
Cobra stared at the wall of produce. Shiny green bell peppers, gleaming, long carrots. He’d come to the supermarket for a peace offering. But with so many options in front of him and so many different ways to say I’m sorry, he wasn’t sure where to begin.
Vegetables seemed the best option. Red would like vegetables the best.
He picked the shiniest bell pepper he could find and a bunch of carrots with the tops still on. Then he added a bunch of kale—whatever the hell kale even was—and a lemon, topped off with a head of garlic.
It still didn’t seem like enough. She’d caught him with his pants down yesterday, showing up at his house like that. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t replayed what he’d said to her damn near a million times. That kept him up late last night, per usual, along with the other hundreds of negative things coursing through his head.
Truth was, part of him was touched. Nobody had ever sought him out. Nobody had ever checked in on him like that.
He owed her a thank you, but he didn’t know how to say it yet.
So he’d shower her with gifts instead. As much as his meager disposable income would allow. He picked up a container of bella mushrooms as well. It would be nice to make more stir-fry. She’d like that. On his way to check out, he scooped up a bouquet of white daisies. And then added a second bouquet in a pretty pink color. He would have bought her ten bouquets, if he had the money.
When he knocked on her apartment door, she pulled the door open immediately, as if she’d been standing there pacing. The relief on her face nearly sent him to his knees. God, she fucking cared about him. That sent warmth trickling through him. The dangerous kind.
“Hi, Cobra.” She stepped aside, waving him in. “What’s all this?”
“Peace offering.” He revealed the two bouquets he had hidden behind his back. She inhaled sharply.
“Aww! Thank you!” She pushed up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He felt a dopey grin come on—she was the only one who could inspire that shit in him.
“So let’s see, this is the second time you got me flowers, and you got me two bouquets this time. Does that mean that next time there will be three?” She looked over her shoulder as she carried the bouquets into the kitchen. Water ran, and then she was arranging them in a vase. He brought the bags in, setting them down on the island.
“Could be. You’ll just have to find out.”
She sent him a private smile across the island. One that made his heart squeeze. He shouldn’t be making it up to her like this, but he couldn’t not do it either. Something about her made him want to go against the grain of his regular life. No matter how much friction it caused.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Gen said quietly, arranging the flowers.
“Yeah, well…” He rapped his knuckles on the island. “I almost didn’t.”
“Figured.”
“Yeah?”
She shrugged. “I’m starting to learn how you do things.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And how’s that?”
She sent him another private smile. “I can’t give away my intel. I’m still gathering data.”
“Well, I don’t have you figured out.” He slid onto the stool facing her. “Thought I did. But Little Miss Genny surprised me.”
“I’m not so mysterious,” Gen said, coming around to sit on the stool next to him. He ran his knuckles over her cheek, unable to stop himself. Unable to do anything but admire her. “I’m about the plainest, most open book there is.”
He shook his head. “Not true.”
“Oh yeah? What’s so mysterious about me?”
He dropped his hand. “Why you keep coming back for more.”
She didn’t speak for a few moments. The silence stretched between them, both comfortable and pronounced.
“There’s something about you that feels familiar,” she finally said, jerking her gaze down to the island countertop. She swirled an invisible pattern there with her index finger. “Something that I want to protect.”
“Protect?” He snort-laughed. “Protect me?”
She jerked her head into a nod. This innocent, real-world virgin wanted to protect him. The irony made his head spin.
“I don’t need anybody to protect me,” he went on.
“That’s not what I mean.” She sighed, tipping her head back, as though searching for the explanation in the ceiling. “There’s something inside you that I want to protect. Like, your spirit.” She jerked her emerald eyes to find his, and suddenly he was rooted. He knew what she meant. His chest tightened.
“Well, thanks,” was all he could say.
She smiled so genuinely that his fingers twitched, wanting to take a picture of her. To remember the purity of her interest. The depth of her recognition of him. The way that she could reach parts of him that nobody, nobody, had even come close to touching.
“You’re really special.” She reached for his hand, threading their fingers together.
&nbs
p; “So are you,” he said quietly.
She tilted her head. “We’re special together. Know what’s great about you?”
He dipped his gaze, shaking his head.
“You accepted me from day one even though you thought I was an alien.”
A tiny laugh escaped past the boa constrictor–grade tightness of his throat.
“It takes a really open heart to do that. And it’s not just an open heart you have. You have an open future. You should show up to work on Monday.”
He watched as her creamy fingers brushed his rough, battered hand. The knobs of his knuckles, the cuts that betrayed the last three days in the sinkhole of his home. He’d taken a sabbatical—that’s what Klay had gleefully called it—but really it had been more like a visit to an insane asylum.
A visit that had thankfully been cut short.
Because of her.
“Yeah.” He swallowed a knot in his throat. “I will, Red.”
“Good.” She squeezed his hand. “I asked Travis where you were. He said you called in sick.”
He worked his jaw back and forth. He’d at least taken care to text the boss. That alone was leaps and bounds better than he used to do. Even though the certification paperwork had scared the literal shit out of him, he’d still left the door open to stay at Holt Body Fitness. Though why, he couldn’t say.
“I’ll need a doctor’s note or something,” Cobra said, rapping his knuckles against the counter. “I don’t know where to get one.”
Gen hummed as she thought. “Why don’t you tell Travis you didn’t see a doctor? Like, you had a really sudden illness. Food poisoning! What about that?”
Cobra shrugged. “Worth a shot, I guess.”
Gen looked so excited he didn’t have the heart to tell her it didn’t matter. The certification paperwork would be the death blow to his stint at Holt Body.
“You didn’t skip work for two days because I asked you to Thanksgiving,” Gen asked, “Right?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Thanksgiving at someone’s house sounds like a drag. But I wouldn’t skip work over it.”
She smiled, but it faded fast. “So why did you skip?”