What She Didn't Know (What She 1)

“Lynn’s not a prisoner, you know,” I reminded her. Although, if I was truly honest, I knew she kind of was. She didn’t leave home, not unless something was terribly wrong, or one of her closest friends was with her, or unless I was with her.

“Lynn’s not a prisoner,” she parroted. “What did you do?” She glared at me.

“When was the last time you had a shower?” I countered.

She froze, but didn’t answer my question.

Ash was a friend of Lynn’s, and she lived on the streets most of the time when she was in town. She did odd jobs, a little waitressing when she could find someone with poor enough standards to hire her. With her heavy eyeliner, deep-black lipstick, and combat boots, she was a study in contradictions. Deep down, I knew she was good. But on the surface, she was bad. Very, very bad.

“Where have you been sleeping?” I asked mildly.

“Here and there.” She kicked back in the chair and lifted her scuffed and worn combat boots to rest on the edge of my desk.

“While Lynn’s gone, I want you to stay at our house.” I got up and walked around to her. “Take a shower. Get cleaned up. I’ll come home later and we can talk.” I sat on the edge of the desk and scooted over until her feet were against my hip. She softened as soon as I touched her, just like she always did. She might be tough as shoe leather on the outside, but on the inside, she was as soft as cotton. “We can make a plan. Find her.”

“Do you want her back?” she asked. Her eyes skittered around, looking everywhere but at me, s

o I bent over and captured her chin with my fingers.

“I always want her back,” I said. “Always.” The vehemence of my words startled even me.

“What did you do?” she asked again.

“I didn’t do anything.” Not this time.

“The last time she vanished like this was when you asked her to marry you,” Ash reminded me.

“I know.” She was gone for almost two weeks. I had to deal with Ash then, too. And several of Lynn’s other friends. “She came back, though. She always comes back.”

“I’m worried about her,” Ash whispered.

“I am too.” I laid my hand on her shin and gave it a squeeze. Her eyes fell closed and a tiny tear escaped, streaking across her black makeup, leaving a sooty trail down her cheek.

“I need for her to come back. It’s been a long time since she’s done this.” Ash laid her head back against the back of the chair, following her words with a damp, tear-stricken groan.

Two years, four days, and twenty-two hours since the last time Lynn vanished. “Did she say anything to you? Give you any indication she was stressed over something?”

She shrugged. “It’s not like she talks to me every day.”

“I know.” I patted her leg again, lingering just a little too long. Her eyes flew open and her gaze met mine. “Go home. Take a shower. You stink. I’ll be there later. We’ll talk.”

She glanced toward where my hand rested comfortably on her leg. “Talk,” she repeated.

“Yes, talk.” I couldn’t keep the corners of my lips from tipping up into a grin.

She lowered her feet to the floor and slowly stood up beside me, pressing her lithe body against mine. “Last time she was gone, we did more than talk.”

I remembered. “That was a mistake.”

Her eyes roamed up and down my body. “A mistake that tasted like it was right.” She licked her lips. “Damn. I missed you.”

In my own fucked-up way, I missed her too. “Go home. I’ll be there in a few hours. I have some things I have to do here.”

She nodded. Then she stepped onto her tiptoes and waited, her face tilted up toward mine. I bent and kissed her lips quickly and softly. “Later,” I whispered. “I’ll see you later.”

She nodded and walked toward the door. I opened it for her and stepped to the side, my back against the open door. She lifted her hand, each finger tipped with black nail polish, and stroked her finger down my tie.

“Not here,” I whispered.