A week later, I was an obsessed mess. My apartment was covered with papers that had scribbled notes all over them, the three-ring binder I’d been keeping all my Black Crimson research in had been dismantled and was spread across my floor, and an entire wall in my living room was filled with holes where I’d tacked up the important articles and pictures with push pins and even connected them with strings of yarn.It looked like a freaking detective’s crime board, but I was finding so much information, and everything was linking together faster than I thought it would; I’d needed to do something to keep the order.Rubbing my chin and squinting at the photograph of a mural Black Crimson had made on the side of a historical museum, I sighed because I couldn’t link this one back to Broderick Carmichael at all.I knew there had to be something, though, because I’d been able to somehow find a connection between him and all the other murals.I just had to keep digging.Meanwhile—I glance
Ezra sent me a funny look, which told me I was laying my gratitude on a little bit too thick. So I laughed at myself and nudged his arm. “I felt like an idiot when I tried to stop by and say hi to her, only to realize the doors would be locked. I really hate feeling so foolish.”Features relaxing as if my behavior was more explainable now, he nodded and unlocked the front door before gallantly holding it open for me to pass through. “Yeah, they can be a bit restrictive,” he allowed, trying to make me feel better. “Sorry about that.”“But it’s completely necessary, I’m sure,” I told him with a grin as I paused after entering the shiny foyer so I could wait for him to lead the way.“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “After all the media coverage we’ve had lately, all kinds of different people have tried to get in and disrupt the workflow.”“Oh, I bet.” Keeping my tone commiserating, I winced at his back as he started forward, leading the way. “You a
About an hour after Camille Blanchette left my office with her ultimatum simmering in the air, I quietly closed the file folder containing all the guesses she had about my identity. Then I sat back in my chair, laced my fingers behind my head, and looked up at the ceiling, only to mutter, “Fuck.”She didn’t even have to be right about her assumptions; she had enough circumstantial coincidences to publish this, and not a soul would believe I wasn’t Black Crimson.This definitely wasn’t something I could just blow off and forget about. Rocking in my chair a couple of seconds longer, I remained at my desk, debating my options, but there was really only one thing left to do.One person left to talk to.And I really didn’t want to have to confess this to him. I could already hear the damn lecture he was going to drag out and heap on me this time.Shaking my head miserably, I heaved myself from my chair and snatched the file into my hand before letting myself out of my office.It wasn’
I’d just hung up my work phone with the secretary of some stupid chiropractic clinic who thought she could haggle prices and lowball me for an ad when my personal phone dinged with an incoming text from my purse.Certain Gran needed something that I’d have to drop by the grocery store to get for her on the way home, I glanced out past my cubicle, hoping no one else had heard the sound because a memo had gone out just this morning, saying too many employees were spending too much time on their cell phones. So they were now banned during work hours.When I saw that the coast was clear, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and plunged my hand into my wicker purse that was sitting in there. After I felt around, I got my fingers around my phone and jerked it up to set it flat on the desk, hidden by my keyboard.Not seeing anyone paying me any kind of attention, I finally dropped my attention to the screen, only to frown. The message was from an unknown number and contained an attachment
“Oh my God,” the redhead before me bellowed in frustration, making me want to kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her.Which was...unlike me. There were so many other places on a woman I typically liked to focus my attention more. Mouth-to-mouth contact was never high on the list. And yet I wanted her soft, red lips with a craving that gnawed at my core.“Stop. Just stop with all the ridiculous sexual innuendos,” she spat, “and be serious for once. What did you tell my grandmother in order to get her to let you in?”I grinned, loving how easy it was to set her off. She was such a fiery, passionate woman, and nothing beat having all that hot, intense emotion aimed at me.“What do you think I told her?” I felt the need to taunt.She growled. “I don’t know; that’s why I’m asking. You didn’t tell her that we were—that you and I were—” She flushed, unable to say the actual words. Then she leaned in and murmured, “Did you?”I shook my head, feigning confusion. “That we were what?”This t
I felt weighted down as I returned home from Gran’s place.After Brick had lit out of there, Gran talked me into staying for supper, where I’d finished the rest of the cookies he hadn’t eaten, plus gorged myself on a heaping plate of homemade spaghetti and meatballs.She never would tell me what he’d told her—if we were friends, lovers, or enemies—and that drove me crazy. But I guess it didn’t really matter anymore. He wasn’t going to change his stance about the interview, which left me with two options.Drop the subject completely or continue without his involvement and write an article that incriminated him to the point that he’d be exposed whether he liked it or not. I knew I could do it. I could take my story to Carmen, and she’d get me into the editing department within the hour.But did I want to do that to Brick? Expose him against his wishes? Possibly get him into trouble with the law? And in effect hurt his sisters, who had become two of my very close best friends.No. I
I paused in the middle of shutting the door and blinked at him. “What, really?”“Wait.” Lifting a hand, he blinked and shook his head as if trying to clear the desperation from his senses. Then he said, “Remind me again what I just offered you.”“You said I could go tag something with you.” Taking his arm, I dragged him back into the apartment and shut the door behind him. Then I looked up into his wary eyes and squeaked with elation. “Like one of your murals? Can I watch you make one of those? Ooh, I could play lookout girl.”His lips spread with a nervous laugh before he lifted a hand in front of my face and sobered. “No. No way in hell would you come with me for a blockbuster piece, even if I had an idea ready for a new one. Which I don’t.”“Then a small, quick tag,” I offered, hopping excitedly on the balls of my feet as I gripped his arm. “I mean, I’ve never seen you tag anything, but you can do that, right? I just want to see Black Crimson in action.”“Look.” He lifted both
I followed Brick all the way outside and down to a little orange sports car before I started to realize how crazy this whole plan was. And it wasn’t even the illegality of it that bothered me either. It was his vehicle.“Is this your car?” I said, slowing to a stop in front of it as he steered me closer. “This is your freaking car, isn’t it? Oh my God, I should’ve known.”His brow knit as he sent me a confused smile. “You should’ve known what?”“That you’d have some fast, super-nice car. I don’t even know what this is, but I’m sure it cost more than what I make in, like, a decade.”“It’s a Porsche,” he answered. “And don’t be ridiculous. It probably doesn’t cost any more than four or five years of your annual salary, tops.” When I sent him a disgusted glare, he lifted his brows in surprise. “I mean, honestly, do you even rake in thirty grand a year?”I huffed out my frustration because no, I didn’t. “Just how rich are you?”The lights on his shiny, tiny orange car flashed as he u