Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(59)

After sleeping three broken hours at best, I got up and dressed to go for a run; I needed to clear my head. I snuck past Stephen, still sleeping on the couch, and crept out. As I ran around my neighborhood, knots twisted in my gut.

I should have told him, I should have told him, I should have told him, I said with every step.

I vowed to never put myself in this situation again—ever. When I visited Vance later, I’d confess everything. It was the only way I could lose the unsettling feeling.

When I got back to my apartment, Stephen was up and making coffee, the laziness of sleep still clinging to his wrinkled clothes and ruffled hair.

“Good morning, sweaty,” Stephen said, looking over his shoulder at me.

“Good morning,” I said, panting. Sweat glistened from my temples to my fingertips.

“Want me to make you something to eat?”

“No, thank you. I need to get cleaned up and go. I’ll grab something on the way.” Who was I kidding? There was no way I could stomach food.

He nodded and poured the first bit of coffee from the pot into a mug and slid it to me across the table.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing it. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I couldn’t put the hot liquid into my body yet. It would make me go into thermonuclear meltdown mode. I’d dump it down the drain and fill it with cold water in the bathroom. “While I’m getting ready you should get whatever it is you want me to take to my boss down on paper. I’ll need to get going as soon as I’m dressed.”

“Oh sure. Don’t let me keep you.” He grabbed another mug and faced the coffee maker and awaited his cup.

With that, I headed off to get cleaned up.

I should have told him, I should have told him, I should have told him, continued to repeat in my head while I showered. I was ready to sprint to the office so I could shut the stupid phrase off.

When I came out fully primped and dressed, Stephen met me at the arm of the couch and handed me a folded sheet of paper. “Here you go.”

“Great, thanks.” I grabbed it and almost opened it up. “Do you mind if I read it?”

“Please.” He nodded.

I was pleasantly surprised by what it said. “Wait, you think you know who’s behind all this? When did you figure that out?”

“Last night after you went to bed. I couldn’t sleep so I hopped online and poked around some more. But I only suspect—I’m not sure. I need all the information Avery has so I can confirm it and get it to the FBI. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and you were right. I think that’ll be safest thing for everyone. I’m sure they can assign a task force and locate the masterminds. The FBI will be better equipped to handle a situation like this. This is beyond city detective territory and beyond what I think we can handle. Then hopefully we can get back to our normal, boring lives.” He grinned.

I exhaled a big breath, trying to release the tension that refused to release its hold on my stomach.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah.” I shook my head. “I have a lot on my mind and I’m nervous to talk to my boss. But it’ll be fine.”

“Thanks again. Really. When all of this is over I promise to make it up to you somehow.” He stroked my arm again the way he had the night before, and it revved my heart.

I had no time for amorous emotions. Between my feelings for Gabe, the kiss with Vance, and the attraction I still felt for Stephen, my emotions were all over the place. Love, confusion, regret, guilt—I was in a delicate state. More touches like that would set me into a tailspin. “I should get going so I’m not late,” I said. I grabbed the picture that had been taped to my door off the table and walked to the door.

“What are you going to do with that?” Stephen asked.

“I’m sure Avery, and my boss, will want a visual confirmation that you are who you say you are.”

He laughed. “Oh, right. That makes sense. Let me know how it goes. I’ll be here waiting.”



. . .



As I stood outside Cavanaugh’s door, I tried to release the nervousness from my shaking fingers by clenching and unclenching my fists. I read the note one more time before folding it up and putting it in my pocket with the picture. There was no way things were going to get better without me doing what I was going to do. It was dangerously close to being over then I could try to piece my life back together. I raised my hand and knocked.

“Yeah?” Cavanaugh called from behind his door.

“Sir, you have a minute?” I opened the door and squinted at the piercing sunlight beaming through the metal blinds behind his desk.

He looked up from a sheet of paper in his hands. “Cain, come in. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

I walked in and sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

“How’s Vance?” he asked, laying the paper down.

I continued to squint from the sun’s rays. “I haven’t spoken to him yet today, but he was doing better last night. The medicine made him a little sick, but aside from that he’s well. He’s tough,” I said with a nervous laugh.

“One of the toughest. I’m glad it wasn’t more serious.” He reached back and twisted the blinds closed. “What brings you in?”

Facing him with black dots dancing in my vision, I realized I should have prepared a speech before I’d walked through the door. I wasn’t sure where to start. The temperature inside my body rose a few hundred degrees, and my mouth dried up. I tried to move the limited spit around my tongue and swallowed it in an attempt to coat my cottony throat.