Bossman (Dirty Office Romance 1)

I dragged my fingers through my hair. “Wait for me at the coffee shop on 151st Street when you get off the subway.”

“I’m fine.”

“Peyton…”

“You’re being overprotective. Is this what it’s going to be like when we’re married? Are you going to expect me barefoot and pregnant, waiting with your slippers at the door?”

I’d proposed two days ago. It was probably not a good idea to tell her I’d love exactly that. At least then I’d know what the hell she was up to. I grabbed my suit jacket from the closet in my office and headed for the elevator.

“I’m on my way, you pain in the ass.”

Out on the sidewalk, I called my sister as I trekked to the subway to tell her we would be late.

“You’re going to be late to your own engagement celebration?”

“This thing was your idea, not mine. You look for any excuse to throw a party.”

“My little brother is getting married. It’s a big deal, not an excuse. God knows we all thought you’d die from some STD before Peyton came along.”

“This is not a discussion we’re having. We’re going to be late because my bride-to-be thinks she’s Columbo. I gotta go.”

“Who?”

“Forget it. I’ll see you in a bit. And thanks, Anna.”

By the time I exited the subway up on 151st Street, it had started pouring. As soon as I could get cell service, I called Peyton’s phone. She didn’t answer.

“Fuck,” I grumbled to myself and went to stand against the nearest building. Rain pelted down diagonally, and I had to cover my phone with one hand just to keep it dry. I hit redial and waited for Peyton to answer. She didn’t.

“Goddamn it.” I knew the makeshift homeless community wasn’t far, and I assumed Peyton hadn’t bothered to wait. Pulling up Google maps on my phone, I found the area of the park with the trestle. It was only three blocks away, so I started to walk in the rain. Every thirty seconds, I hit redial. I grew more and more anxious each time the ringing went to voicemail. There was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, and after the third unanswered call, something made me start to jog.

Another redial.

Another voicemail.

I turned the corner and saw the area under the trestle that Peyton had described off in the distance.

Another redial.

Peyton’s voice came on, telling me to leave a message at the tone.

Something felt off. Horribly off. My jog turned into a run.

By the time my phone vibrated in my pocket, my heart was pounding in my chest. Seeing Peyton’s face flash on the screen should have calmed me, but for some reason, it didn’t.

“Chase, where are you?” Her voice was shaky; I could tell she was scared.

“Where are you?

She didn’t answer.

“Peyton? Goddamn it. Where are you?”

The clank of the cell phone tumbling to the ground was loud in my ear. But it was what came next that would haunt me for years to come.

Chapter 22

Reese

I woke to the sound of Chase gasping for air. It was a gritty, raw, ear-splitting noise that felt like it should come after being pummeled in the gut. There was no hesitation before I woke him this time.

“Chase…wake up.” I shook him vigorously.

His eyes flew open, and he stared at me, yet I could tell he didn’t actually see me.

“You were having another nightmare.”

He blinked a few times, and his vision came into focus. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. But you…sounded like you couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare or you were really having some sort of respiratory distress.”

Chase sat up. His face was damp with sweat, and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Sorry I woke you.”

Just like yesterday, he got out of bed and spent ten minutes in the bathroom with the water running. When he returned, he sat on the edge of the bed again, so I followed suit and straddled him from behind—only this morning I was wearing a T-shirt.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Anything I can do?”

“You could take off the shirt. Your tits pressed up against my back does a lot to stop the nightmares.”

I pointed out the obvious. “Umm…you’re already awake. I don’t think that would help with this morning’s nightmares.”

“Maybe not, but there’s always tomorrow.”

I smiled, leaned back, and lifted my shirt over my head. Pressing my bare skin to his, I asked, “Better?”

“Sure is.”

We stayed like that for a good ten minutes, our breaths synchronizing in the quiet, dark room.

“Peyton’s dad took off when she was little, and her, her mother, and her two sisters ate all their meals in a shelter for a while. When Peyton got older, she wanted to give back, so she volunteered at a few local soup kitchens. She made friends with this one guy, Eddie. He had issues with people coming too close to him, so he refused to sleep in the shelters. Eddie was being harassed by a group of teenagers. They’d show up at night at a homeless camp—where a lot of people who had nowhere else to go slept—and start trouble. It was a game they played. Every few days he’d come in with a gash on his head or bruises.”