Right Under

Thursday

Something is wrong, I think as I blink open my eyes and glance down. The only explanation I can think of for the position I’ve found myself in is that I’m exhausted.

My body is programmed so it only ever enters deep sleep when covered with a weighted blanket. I only use that when I’m home. It was tricked into thinking a two-hundred-twenty-five-pound weighted blanket was covering it.

WTF? Am I talking about my body in the third person?

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I scream, but only in my head.

I can’t wake him up. I can’t face him. I?—

“Shuga bear,” he murmurs.

“Oh, hell no,” I grunt as I struggle beneath his weight and attempt to roll him off of me.

“What’s wrong? I hurt you?” he asks, pushing up off me and rubbing his eyes with two fists, like the toddler he is.

“You made me fall asleep; that’s what happened,” I snap as I shuffle off the couch.

His fists stall, still covering his eyes, and a grin spreads across his stupid face.

“There’s nothing funny about this, Locke. I’m on a fucking jo—” I snap my mouth shut before finishing the word job, even though it’s too damn late.

He stands and walks over, bends down, and grabs my sweater. “Gwendolyn, it isn’t cool. You think we’re going to fight, and you’re gonna leave without making nice.” He shakes his head, making a tsking sound.

“You’re so freaking infuriating.” I pull my tank over my head.

“Then smile before we end up on that couch again, and I take up even more of your time by cashing in on that promise. The Gwendolyn York I know doesn’t leave a promise unfulfilled. You don’t give me at least a smile, and I’m not gonna give you the do-over to make that right.”

My eyes widen, realizing he’s right. I didn’t fuck Leland Locke.

I look up into his sleepy green eyes, my cardigan hanging off his long, thick finger.

“Trust me; it wasn’t my intention to fall asleep, so how about you ditch the ’tude and give me a smile?”

I don’t just smile. I laugh so hard that I snort. This causes his entire face to break out into a full-blown, Leland Locke, panty-melting, swoon-worthy smile.

Oh, fuck no.

“It’s cute you think there’s going to be a next time, Locke.”

“Not as cute as you thinking there won’t be,” he says, giving me a closed lip, dimple-deepening smile. He adds a wink for good measure as I grab my sweater and shove my arms in it.

And that’s when I steal the last glance at his beautiful …

“What the hell did you do!” I hold up my hands as I turn for the door, needing to get the hell away from him and his pierced dick.

“I liked it, so I put a ring on it.” The damn fool does the Beyonce wave.

“Forget I asked. Not my business or concern.” I open the door, step out, and look back at him. “I’d ask you when the hell you were going to grow up, but you know, I’m not thinking you should. I mean, who wouldn’t want to live in your world?” Then I hurry out the door, down the steps, and across the driveway into CeCe’s yard, up her back steps, punch in my code for her door, and open it. Quietly shutting and locking it, I lean against it, close my eyes, and exhale.

“You good?” Marks’ voice causes me to damn near jump out of my skin.

Shit, I think as I stand up, straighten my spine, and turn to face him. “I’m good. Fell asleep. You should catch some Z’s.”

He cocks his head to the side. “You fell asleep?”

“I fell asleep.”

“So, if that wasn’t a booty call, I’m wondering if it’s got a damn thing to do with the marriage clause in your trust.”

“Um, no. Jesus, no.”

He looks at me like he thinks I’m lying. It pisses me off.

“For your information, it was an intended booty call since he owes me for fucking up the other night with Frankie?—”

“Frankie, who you haven’t been with for close to a year and said you were done with after his little admission that he might get married when he’s fifty to a trophy wife?”

“You know I don’t believe everyone is going to fall in love and end up?—”

“Don’t stick up for that shitbag. You don’t say shit like that to a woman you’re laying next to, even if it is?—”

“Well”—I throw my hands in the air—“he said he was sorry and said he may want more with me just the other night in a text, so?—”

“The fact you think that’s your only option is ludicrous, York.”

“I don’t even want the fucking money. You know that.”

“And I told you that we don’t need it; we’re doing real fucking good.”

“I know, I know, but?—”

“We can look into investors.”

“No way does anyone get to tell us we need to do less or more or?—”

“Well, fuck you, and I can get married.”

I giggle. “You just turned green at the idea. You’re going to be an awesome husband and father one day. I’m not going to be the rain delay on your love story. The minute you, Zane Marks, come face-to-face with the woman you know is for you, you’re going to Kool-Aid man through your walls and scoop her up before she even sees you coming.”

His pause in response makes me wonder.

“Have you?—”

“No, York. Now go get some damn sleep to recharge your bitch.” He looks at me like I’m a disease. “This emotional version of you will not do.”

“It’s hard not to think about when it can change lives, and not just ours. We help people get justice, Marks.” I hold up my hand to stop him from saying whatever is going to come out of his mouth. “I won’t think about it until he’s in custody or in the ground.”

“Good. Now go to fucking bed.”

“I slept?—”

“It’s only two in the damn morning, and I’m still on California time. Go.”

“Will do.” I salute him and head for the stairs.

“York, you may want to wash your nasty ass feet before you slide into bed.”

I look down at them and realize I left my fucking slides at Locke’s.

* * *

After a shower, I slide into bed, plug in my phone, and receive a text. I grab my glasses, put them on, and grab my phone, expecting it to be Marks, but it’s not.

Locke:

Tried to get your attention while you were fleeing in fear of my cock. I have many feelings about this. One is out of concern. Is your eyesight diminishing, or perhaps my mind is going? I could have sworn it was you in my living room as you eye-fucked the goods after you beckoned me to the couch and demanded that I sit so you could ride me. Another is that you haven’t felt it tapping your G-spot the past several times you and I were making nice in the alley behind Ollie’s back home. I will hold all future concerns for the next time you can have a civil conversation or after we make nice, and you’re in a lazy post-orgasmic haze of lust, all soft and sweet, and not angry at me for whatever it is you’ve been angry at me about for the past sixteen years. I am now going to shower and jerk off to the thought of you on your knees, teeth tugging at the barbell on the end of my cock, and fall asleep, wishing you were still beneath me. XXXXXXXXXX Sleep well, Gwendolyn York.

There’s no way I missed his dick being pierced. Also, yay, without my contacts, I can’t see shit anymore.

Then another text follows.

Locke

XXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXX

And another.

Locke

Those are the kisses you refuse to take or give. X

And another with a link to “Our Song.”

And Another.

Locke

Fuck, I missed your taste.

I block him.

* * *

Iwake from a dream I don’t recall, except something awful is happening. I was supposed to have Marks’ back, but I was at Locke’s.

I sit straight up and look around, making sure everything is as it should be, and then I lie back and attempt to shake out the feeling of dread, but it’s stuck in me like a sliver I can’t get to, and it’s making me nauseous.

It’s five in the morning. Five.

I reach over, grab my phone, check the security app, and see all looks good. I then shoot Marks a text.

Me

I’m up. Be down in five.

Marks

See you when you get down here.

I slide out of bed, get dressed, hit the bathroom, and get myself ready, remaining quiet so that I don’t wake the non-insomniacs at CeCe’s house. Then I grab my computer and head down the stairs, still feeling like something is even more off than it was, like I’m missing something important, perhaps about the girls I’m going to survey today.

“What’s going on?” Marks asks as soon as he sees me.

“The girls.” I shake my head. “I don’t think she’s one of the three.”

“And?”

I shrug and joke, “I’m feeling a disturbance in the force.”

“Don’t doubt yourself, York. I don’t know about the force, but your guts, your guide.” He nods to the seat next to him, and I head over and sit. “Two men checked into a hotel in Trenton under Dexter Woodson’s yesterday.”

“Then what are we doing here?” I start to stand, but he stops me.

“Two men left the hotel and went to the airstrip. Woodson’s plane headed back to Cali an hour ago. Echo tapped into the flight information and some surveillance at the airstrip. Woodson boarded solo. Maze is at the hotel, waiting for Center, whom we suspect. We haven’t gotten confirmation it’s him, so there’s no calling in the police. Not a damn thing they could do about it.”

“No pictures? Video?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “That’s bad. He’s evading.”

“None of them out of our sight today.” He nods to my computer. “What are you getting into?”

“Baby doll.”

“Three, right?”

“Yeah, but”—I shake my head—“the disturbance.”

“Open it up, and we’ll go back through the list.”

And that’s just what we do.

Within half an hour, I’ve added four more names and emailed them to the moms.

When I hear movement overhead, telling me CeCe is awake, I stand up and stretch. “I need some fresh air.”

Mark nods to me from the kitchen counter, where he’s slapping cream cheese on his bagel and digging in to get more for mine.

“Plain for me, please.”

His head jerks back in disbelief.

“I’m an evolving woman, Marks.”

He nods to the door. “Get some fresh air.”

* * *

Outside, we quietly discuss the day’s plan and stop talking when CeCe, who never leaves the house at this time, walks out, work-ready, with oversized sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Good morning,” she says, walking down the stairs. “I’m sorry if I woke either of you when I got up.”

“We’re both early risers.” I nod toward my rental car. “Can I give you a ride?”

“Oh, no, I’m good, but thank you.”

“CeCe.” Marks shakes his head.

Her face falls. “He’s here, isn’t he? My father’s here?”

“He—”

“I asked last night, and?—”

“Danny and Chloe have their appointment on Monday. She’s been giving herself hormone injections to prepare for it for a week now. Danny doesn’t want her to worry until we’re positive.”

“How is she supposed to watch out for herself and Aggie if she doesn’t know?” she asks, clenching her fists.

“Danny’s watching out for her. We’re watching out for her,” Marks answers.

“And when she’s in Walton?”

“Danny’s family and a few men in town know?—”

“The same men you had on him in California?” she snaps.

Marks’ lips form a straight line.

“Oh my God, did he kill?—”

“No. Jesus, CeCe, no,” I say then notice she’s looking toward Roman’s place.

“Let’s get you to work. I’ll fill you in on our way.”

I fill her in on almost everything because she needs to know. However, I wasn’t prepared for her to be so angry, and for that, I’m glad.

She doesn’t like the fact I’m staying at her workplace, but I promised to become invisible once I walked through and at least one of her coworkers was here.

When she opens the door and enters, I hear something—someone whistling. I step in front of her and hold up my hand, placing a finger in front of my lips. Then I reach inside my jacket for my Glock and take my first step.

CeCe tugs my jacket. “Hey.”

I look back at her.

“It could be any one of my people here. You can’t go in there waving around a damn gun,” she whispers.

“How many have access?”

“Doc and his wife.” She scowls.

“Are they ever here this early? Are they whistlers?” I cup my ear and point in the direction I hear water running. “Do they shower here?”

“Fair point, but the whistle is clearly female. And whoever it is, I doubt they’d be armed and showering at six in the morning.”

“And William could have easily picked up a partner, who might just be female.”

She shakes my head. “I know that whistle. I think it’s Cora; she works here.”

Cora. Cora isn’t that common a name, and I placed it on a list today.

“She has access to keys?”

“It’s possible. It’s not like she couldn’t have gotten a copy if she needed it. Let me go first.”

“Hell no,” I hiss.

“It wasn’t a request.” She ducks under my arm and pops up right in front of my fucking gun.

“Dammit, Cecilia.” I point it down.

When we get to a door that’s cracked, she doesn’t hesitate; she blows right the fuck in.

I’ll be addressing that shit when there’s time.

On the floor is a duffel bag, and draped over a desk chair is a pair of scrubs.

“It’s Cora, and like I said, she works here.”

“How do you know?” I whisper back.

“She loves big dogs, and she cannot lie.”

“What?”

She points to the scrubs that say just that. “They’re hers.”

Chloe’s second biggest fear was that Center would manipulate her child, get her to trust him, and use her in a revenge plan. Right now, that doesn’t seem too far out there. If this Cora is Chloe’s and worked her way into CeCe’s life, that takes planning.

I position myself between CeCe and the bathroom.

“We should let her get dressed and?—”

An ear-piercing scream rips through the air, and I turn and see her, a lot more of her than I should, but Jesus Christ, she’s … stunning, too.

“Oh my God. Oh my God! Oh! My! God!”

“You’re okay, Cora. We’ll give you a minute.” CeCe grabs my shirt and tries to tug me out of the room.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have just come here, but”—she grabs her top and throws it over her toweled head—“my father’s away with his girlfriend, and I agreed to meet up with some guy I met on a dating app. He suggested we meet at my place instead of Brews for coffee.” She grabs her pants and slips them on. “He told me he already knew where I lived, that he knew all about me, even things I’ve never told people closest to me. I freaked and stayed here last night. I’m so sorry.”

Holy fucking shit, could it be?

“You did a smart thing. It would have been smarter to call the cops.” I pull my phone from my pocket.

“No.” Cora holds her hand up. “Please, don’t. My dad’s going to freak out about this already. I don’t want him to know.” She pulls the towel off her head.

CeCe gasps. “Wow, that?—”

“Was stupid.” She bends down and grabs socks out of her bag.

“I was going to say it looks great.”

Pulling on her socks, she huffs, “Trust me; it was stupid. He said he likes blondes. I’m such an idiot.”

“I won’t call the cops, but I’d love to see his name and profile if you don’t mind.”

She looks up at me. “I’m sorry, who are you?” She immediately shakes her head. “Jesus, I’m normally not such a wreck, and I have no reason to ask questions when I’m the one who shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re shaken. It’s understood. It was smart of you to get somewhere safe. Next time, maybe call me so I can come get you?” CeCe says sweetly.

“There will not be a next time. I’m going to keep dating assholes my age and not older men who you’d think were more mature, but go figure that I’d find one who was a creeper.” She looks at me again.

“This is Gwen York. She’s one of my sister’s best friends, and she’s, uh … she’s?—”

“Going to check out the building on the back of the property to see what would be needed to fix it up and?—”

“Puppy spa?” Cora asks as she stands.

“Yeah,” CeCe lies, and she does it horribly. “She used to be a police officer, which is why she’s asking to see whatever information you have on this creep.”

“You won’t tell my father, though?” she asks, genuinely worried.

“How old are you, Cora?”

“Eighteen.”

“Making you an adult.” I nod.

“Right, of course.” She moves to grab her phone and hands it to me, telling me her code.

When I open her app and see a picture that even I can tell is fake, my stomach turns. I see that the name he’s chosen is Daniel, and I know that it’s not a coincidence.

I look at CeCe. “You have coffee here?”

“I’ll make it,” Cora offers.

“No, I got it. You do what you need to do to get ready for the day.”

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Cora asks her, and I can’t help but laugh. “What happened to you?”

“There was a cat fight at the baseball game last night, which is why I’m here early—I needed makeup to cover it up.”

Needing a minute to breathe and process, I ask, “First, coffee?”

“Of course. First, coffee,” CeCe agrees.

Thankfully, they both leave the room, because I need Marks, I need the moms, I need Danny to get Chloe the fuck out of here, and confirmation, even though she seriously looks so much like both of them that it’s obvious. It’s those stunning eyes. But, most of all, I need to be able to gain my composure so that the two of them don’t freak the fuck out completely which, I might add, would be warranted.

I spend the next four hours on the phone, bringing others on board and checking in with Maze, willing that motherfucker to go back to the hotel.

“Babe,” he groans.

“I won’t call back. I’ll be away from the phone for a bit and wanted to check in before I’m out of service,” I lie.

“No, not yet,” he sighs then laughs. “But babe, you’re a terrible fucking liar.”

“Whatever,” I huff. “What about the other exits and entries and?—”

“Got people on it,” he cuts me off. “Even have a person inside. He shows, we’ll know.”

“I know we said not to apprehend, but?—”

“Please tell me I can shove a shitbag in the trunk and meet you on a side road.”

I bite back a smile. “That would be illegal.”

“Yeah, that’s what makes it fun.”

“You need more people there?—”

“You have half the community on someone who is connected to these chicks.”

“How do you know that?” I ask, truly curious.

“Babe,” he sighs.

“I’ll check back in later,” I say as CeCe walks in.

He laughs out, “I’m sure you will.”

I end the call.

“We close for an hour for lunch. I’m ordering in. What would you like?”

“I’m good with whatever.” I look back down at my tablet when it pings.

“I’m also going to try to get Cora to nap in one of the exam rooms and have her stay at my place tonight.”

Well, that can’t happen, and now I have to explain why. “You wanna close the door and have a seat?”

She looks at me like a deer in the headlights and slowly shakes her head but does so, anyway.

Once she’s sitting down, I softly explain, “I think Cora should stay at a hotel tonight and?—”

“I want her with me.”

“I understand, but just for tonight. I’ll stay with her. Tomorrow night, this weekend, your place will be a good choice.”

She looks between my eyes, and then her lips part in a soft gasp.

“Is he …? Is William …? Is?—”

“I’m going on record here that I think Chloe is going to be pissed when she finds out, but?—”

“If he’s here, he’s not in Walton. If he’s here, she and Aggie are safer there.”

“Can you pull off normal, at least until they fly out?” I ask.

She nods. “Is there someone or a security team hotline I can call and hire a person to watch out for Doc and Hilda?” She gasps again and covers her mouth. “Grace is blonde. She works here and?—”

“Covered on all fronts,” I assure her.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t tried to get to Gra—” She stops abruptly and leans in, her eyes darting between mine.

Shit, she’s about ready to freak the hell out.

I push up, circle her desk, squat in front of her, and take her hands.

She closes her eyes, and I’m pretty sure she’s holding her breath.

“Breathe, CeCe.”

“You think Cora …? You think she’s—” her words get stuck.

“Shh. Breathe, okay? Twenty-four hours. You have to hold this all together for twenty-four hours.”

“Chloe’s going to want to know her daughter.”

“Chloe will embrace her in the most beautiful way there is, but she’s had the luxury of time. Cora?” I shake my head. “She’s going to need time, and we—you and me—have to give her that for her and for Chloe.”