What has she lost? Who? What sins?
The only clear thing is that he’s targeting my children, and Octavia. That is has to do with a woman, who lost something. Something precious.
Because of me.
Or so this asshole thinks, and he’s out to punish me.
I hit my fist lightly on the wall by the window, and again, just to feel the light sting on my knuckles, just for the illusion that I’m fighting something tangible, not a ghost.
Not a nightmare.
Assuming that the woman the message refers to is Alina Solokov… what the hell happened to her? Who did she lose? Her boyfriend? Her husband? Her children? Her goddamn cat? How do I know what she did after I left? How do I know why I’m being punished for it?
What the hell, right?
Unless…
Unless.
Jesus Fuck. I did sleep with her a few times. We were careful, but what if we weren’t careful enough? What if…?
I stare at the wall without seeing it, the nightmare spreading again its oily ripples around me. Because, if what I’m thinking is true, if it really happened, then the riddle is starting to make sense. It’s appearing from the dark, piece by piece, like one of those magic pictures, and it doesn’t look good.
Not fucking good at all.
A quick search for her name on the internet on my phone brings up dozens of profiles but none that seem to belong to her.
So that’s when I call John back and tell him my theory and my ex-girlfriend’s name, and hope to hell I’m wrong.
When Octavia says she should go, I nod and watch her gather her purse and light coat, my mind a thousand miles away.
And yet I’m aware of her, her scent, her movements, her presence. My eyes, my whole body strains toward her even as I fight it.
“Will you be okay?” she asks, her eyes seeing right through me. “Did something else happen?”
“No,” I offer the half-lie. Because nothing has happened, not yet. It’s just an idea that might or might not prove to be true. “I’ll be fine. You’ve done a lot already.”
For some reason, her slender shoulders tense, and her eyes dim. “Sure thing. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Wait… Monday?
And why the fuck do I care that she looks disappointed, except… I do. I do care.
“Tay, wait.” I get up and walk over to her. I slip my arm around her waist as she turns back around, and tug her against me, loving the way her body fits on mine. “Thank you. For everything.”
Her mouth curves into a faint smile, her eyes lighting up. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”
“And for taking care of the kids, and talking to the police, and calling my mother, and… everything.”
Her smile brightens. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and she licks her lips.
So I kiss her. I can’t help myself. Drawing her out of sight of the kids, I taste her mouth, fuck it with my tongue, then back her up against the wall and kiss her until all my air runs out and she’s gasping against my lips.
When I draw back, she looks dazed. “I, uh…”
I fucking love how she’s blanked out, her lips red and swollen, her breaths uneven. “Yeah?”
“You…”