When We Touch

Ember is on my mind. I can still see the heartbreak in her eyes, the confusion. Déjà vu tightens my shoulders. I’m having flashbacks of what happened to us before, only this time Coco is the weapon.

I was a kid when we were broken apart the first time. I’m not a child anymore, and this time the outcome will be different. Determination tightens my stomach.

I’ve saved us once. I’ll do it again.

* * *

True to his word, Ian texts me an address just as I’m pulling The Beast into my parking garage.

Last known whereabouts of Tiffany Rogers. And by last, I mean as of this morning. She’s working as a temp at an advertising agency called Radical Bureau. Odd.

I text right back,

But memorable.

I know exactly where she is—less than an hour away. I head up to my condo to shower, grab some food and the keys to the Audi, and I’m back on the road.

My teeth grind as I get on the expressway. Every red light feels like it lasts a half hour. Every block draws out like I’m in the Matrix. At last I’m pulling into a parking garage for a multi-office complex. I take a ticket and make my way to a parking space, thinking about the possibility of her being out, of her coming back and seeing me before I see her and panicking.

For a few moments I waver… perhaps I should wander around and come back closer to five. Maybe with a witness just in case…

I can’t wait that long. I don’t know what’s happening in Oceanside, and Ember can’t wait. Coco can’t wait.

Hustling to the elevator, I repeatedly press the little white button. Once inside, I pull out my phone, staring at the lock screen photo, a shot I’d taken of Ember and Coco on the beach that Sunday. How is it possible she already feels like mine?

The door opens with a ding, and I dash through the first floor to the building directory. Radical Bureau is on the second floor. I skip the elevator and take off down the empty hallway to the staircase lining the wall of windows. Holding the shiny steel rail, I pull myself up the stairs, trying to move faster.

The agency is in the center of the second floor. I pause a moment before approaching the glass doors. I’m wearing black jeans and a dark gray, long sleeved sweater with a light blazer on top. My hair has grown longer on the sides, my beard is a little thicker. I run my hands over both, hoping to smooth away any wildness. I want to appear friendly, non-threatening.

With a deep breath, I go to the door. My hand is on it when she looks up from her desk in the center of the reception area and our eyes meet.

Hers widen, and I pull the door open quickly, trotting to catch her as she’s out of her seat, making a dash for the side hall.

“Tiffany! Wait—I just need to talk to you!” I catch her hand on the door handle, and she gives a little cry.

The office is pretty empty. I assume most of the employees are at lunch.

“You’re not to be within a hundred feet of me, Jack Lockwood! I have a restraining order on you.”

I swear, you could dump ice water on my head, and I’d be less shocked. “Tiffany, why? What’s going on?” My voice breaks. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m protecting myself!” She’s saying the words, but her eyes don’t meet mine. She doesn’t even try to pull her hand away.

“Please…” I look around the empty room. “Can we go somewhere and talk? Just for a few minutes? Whatever they told you, I can explain—”

Her blue eyes blink wide. “What can you explain? I went with you thinking you cared then you shoved me in a taxi in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t even give me back my shoes! Those were thousand dollar Louboutins!”

“Your shoes?” I step back, trying to remember. “You did this for a pair of shoes?”

“No!” She jerks her hand out of mine. “Brice said you hid a bunch of evidence about that case, the one where the little girl was killed? He said you’re trying to blackmail the firm and put everyone out of business.”

“He’s right about the last part.” Holding out my hand, we return slowly to the reception area, allowing the hall door to close. “The first part is a total lie. Brice hid the evidence. I found it. It’s why I was so upset that night, why I called the Lyft to take you back to the city. I went to his estate that night and confronted him.”

“You should have kept your word,” she sniffs. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I have enough money to buy twenty pairs of Louboutins. And you have to leave me alone.”

A pain pierces my forehead. “Tiffany, tell me what Brice said. What deal did you make with him?”

“I’m not incriminating myself. Wagner and Bancroft are protecting me.”