Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

“Thanks, Tara. Send him up.”

My last client of the day was, and always has been, an asshole. It’s a case we’ve been working on for the last six months and it’s not going the way he wanted it to. He’s being sued for tax evasion and even though I’m good, the evidence is there plain as day.

I scrub a hand down my face before collecting all of my stuff and locking my office door. I take the elevator down to the parking lot while reading messages on my cell. Not one of them is from Tris; I scoff, having had enough of his silent treatment.

Nate: Time’s up, I’m coming over.

The message is marked as read but again I get no reply, much to my frustration. It’s been this way for a while now.

I jump in my car and start the drive to his house, getting stuck in traffic on the way and tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel as everyone going home from work crawls out of the city at a snail's pace.

Gazing around me as I loosen my tie, I rest back in the custom leather seats of my new gunmetal Mercedes-AMG GT coupe. I’m not a materialistic person whatsoever, but it just so happens I have the means to buy things like this. I take pride in my cars. I’ve loved everything about them since I was a little kid and since I don’t have a family to support, then why the hell not splurge?

I sit up straighter as a spot in the traffic opens up and pull into the fast lane, making my way out of the city and through the tunnel to the other side of the town Tris and I grew up in.

Reaching his gravel driveway and slowing down, I curse as each pebble hits the underside of my car and hope they don’t scratch it. Like I said: I love my cars.

I park in front of the circular fountain outside of his house and look around. There’s no cars in sight but I hope that just means he’s parked in his garage.

Getting out, I take the few steps up to the house, not bothering to knock as I open the door and walk on inside.

“Hello?” My voice rings out in the sparse entryway, bouncing off the cold walls. There are no lights on upstairs so I walk in the direction of the kitchen. “Tris? Izzie? Clay?” I call out, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of water.

Where the hell are they at six o’clock at night?

I open the bottle and take a big swig, catching light out of the corner of my eye coming from the pool house. Amelia. Just the very thought of seeing her smiling face has my back straightening and a smirk twisting the corners of my lips. She’s always so happy and she’s amazing with Izzie and Clay, she has been from the moment she came into their lives.

Leaving the bottle of water forgotten on the counter, I open up the patio doors into the backyard, following the small circular stones leading the way to the pool house. I knock on the glass door and when there’s no answer, I knock again, waiting.

Maybe she went out with them and forgot to turn off the light? I crane my head toward one of the windows before trying the door. The handle bends and I stand staring into her personal space.

“Amelia?”

When she doesn’t answer I take a step in to see if she has any keys lying around for me to lock up—not that anything would happen in this neighborhood but you can never be too careful.

I look around the room that’s the complete opposite of my bachelor pad. There’s pink, cream, and white cushions on the sofa and bed that blend in nicely with the light-gray walls, making the small pool house look a lot bigger than it actually is.

My gaze flits around the room not seeing any keys anywhere, but when I look to my left, I jump, seeing Amelia staring at herself in the bathroom mirror.

“Amelia?” She doesn’t answer me, her dark-blond hair hanging around her face and her head slightly tilted to the side. She looks like she’s not even in there, like a shell of herself as she stares ahead in her own little world. A shiver runs through me at the sight before I clear my throat thinking I didn’t talk loud enough. “Amelia? Are you alright?”

Her eyes don’t focus until I move closer and she must see my reflection because her gaze flits to mine, sparking to life. Her mouth opens as she whispers, “Nate? What are you—” She visibly swallows, keeping her eyes connected with mine. “What are you doing?”

“I, erm…” I get lost in her chocolate-brown eyes and the freckles dotted across her nose for a second. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of Tris for a few days now. He’s been seeing the messages but not replying to me.” I’m not sure if she’s even listening, but I continue anyway. “I wanted to swing by and see if everything was alright, but no one’s here. It’s like a ghost town in that house but I saw your light on and came on over.”

She slowly turns around, leaning against the sink as her chest rises and falls. “He took the kids out.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing on me before she looks away, staring at something behind me. “You should go.”

I peer behind me, trying to find what she’s focusing on. I ignore her comment as I see the package sitting on her coffee table. “I thought you were out with them, I was going to lock up for you.” I start to move toward the box. “Order anything nice?”

As my hand reaches out toward it, she screeches and dodges around me. “No! Don’t touch it!” Her voice breaks as she shouts as loud as she can, making my steps stall.

I chuckle at her outburst, teasing her. “Don’t touch what?”

“I’m serious, Nate,” she warns, her voice lowering as she grabs my bicep, her fingers gripping me hard. “Please don’t, it’s… it’s private.”

I look down at her hand on my shirt, smirking. “If you wanted to touch me, all you had to do was ask.” She doesn’t move her frantic gaze from mine. “What’s so special about this box? You been ordering something dirty?”

Her eyes flash as I reach out for it again. “Stop!” She pushes me away as my fingertips graze the cardboard, her voice and movements desperate.