Save Me from Dangerous Men (Nikki Griffin #1)(21)

“I know it’s only our second meeting, but we haven’t addressed this yet. You aren’t here voluntarily.”

“Like I could forget.”

“I’m not trying to upset you. But just to get all of the elephants out of the room.”

“Sure. The elephants.”

“Your last boyfriend, Bryan. That was his name, right?”

“Bryan. Yeah. Sure. What about him?”

“I feel compelled to point out that you struggle with—with certain tendencies. How you react to certain things.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side? Bryan was an asshole. I was protecting him. Protecting him. Did you get that in my file?”

“Nikki, I know you’re upset.”

“Let me finish. Okay? Since we’re herding the damn elephants or whatever. You know that he didn’t even bail me out after it happened? That I got to spend a day in a cell with the DTs puking two feet from my cot and a bunch of sleazy male guards telling us all the fun things they wanted to do to us—did that go in my file, too?”

“You feel betrayed by Bryan.”

“I’m not complaining. I can handle worse. I have handled worse. A lot worse.”

“I believe you, but my point is that problems become problems when they have a negative effect on your life. Legal consequences, the end of a relationship, risks to your health and safety. This has to be addressed. Why didn’t you want to talk about your parents last time? Can you tell me?”

“Can we call it a day?”

“We still have some time left.”

“I know.”

“We can finish early if you like. I’ll see you next week, same time?”

“Like I have a choice.”

“Be good, Nikki. I’ll see you next week.”





14


Gregg Gunn had asked to meet me at a fitness center in San Jose, a couple of miles from the Care4 building where I had begun following Karen Li. I pulled up to the big glassy building and walked into a sun-filled atrium, dodging potted ferns and finding the main desk just past a smoothie bar with lemons and oranges painted along its walls. The effect was like a corporate kindergarten. Around me everywhere were young staff in white polo shirts and khakis, all smiling and moving with the precise efficiency of robots. Gunn must have given them my name because a moment after I checked in, a good-looking Korean guy bounced around the desk and offered to show me upstairs. “He’s on the racquetball courts,” he explained. My guide looked to be college-age, with a wide smile and muscular arms that strained his sleeves. A name tag identified him as Kevin. We walked past the Sales offices, where a handful of attractive men and women were on the phone or leaning forward in earnest conversation.

“You’re a trainer here?” I asked.

Kevin nodded with vigor. “Most definitely! Do you work out? You look it.”

“When I can.”

“Ask for me if you ever want to book some individual sessions. I’d love to help you achieve your goals!” We reached the racquetball courts on the second floor. “He’s on court three,” Kevin said. He flashed me a parting smile and offered a strong handshake. “Don’t be shy about getting in touch!” As he walked away I thought again of the robots.

The back wall of the racquetball court was glass. I watched Gunn move within. He wore athletic clothes and hit with energy, leaping side to side across the polished maple, arm winding back and sweeping across his body with each shot. The glass stripped the scene of audio; I watched sneakers squeak silently off wood and the paddle bounce soundlessly off the ball. When I walked into the court he glanced at me over his shoulder but didn’t stop. “Nikki. Thanks for coming. Any updates?”

I told him briefly what I’d seen of Karen Li in San Francisco, omitting only the strange phone call I’d gotten at my apartment. Gunn kept hitting while I talked. I tried to stay out of the way. “You’re sure about this?” he said. “Did you record the conversation?”

“No.”

He gave the ball a hard slam and repositioned himself for the bounce. “Why not? Isn’t that what I’m paying you to do? No offense, Nikki, but I can’t just take your word for everything that happens. I need proof. You of all people should know that.”

I stepped out of the way of the ball as it angled toward me. Gunn’s paddle came within six inches of my head and sent the blue rubber ball spinning toward a corner. “The woman is scared out of her mind,” I said. “Meaning she’s hyperaware. A hundred thousand years ago, that’s probably why we didn’t all get eaten by lions. If I had been snapping pictures, someone would have noticed. Once that happens, forget about following her anymore.” I wasn’t exaggerating. Being professionally followed was an experience that the majority of the population never encountered. The feeling tended to be deeply unsettling. It could keep a person looking under the bed for years to come.

He sidestepped to take the ball on his backhand and smashed it down-court. “So you physically saw her leave her bag. And the two men took it? You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed. I reminded myself the guy had paid me twenty grand. For that money, I could play parrot.

Gunn abruptly stopped and set the paddle down, breathing hard. The ball rolled away from us. “So I was right.”