Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Charlotte Mitchell

T he alarm goes off at the same time it always does, set as if I had to go to the station today. I forgot to shut it off last night, and this morning, I’m paying that price. But it’s my second day of my third day of leave, so when I jab the off button for the alarm, I do so with extra vigor. I spent a late night researching and finding absolutely nothing on Feenix after an entire day of being lazy. I mean, how many people are named Feenix in New York?

It turns out there are a few, but none of them stood out. That sends me back to square one with absolutely nothing. Nothing pisses me off more than having no avenue to take.

I flop back on my pillow and shove my hair off my sticky forehead. The heat doesn’t work right in this building. It’s either too hot or too cold and nothing in between. Last night, it was all heat, and I’m still sweaty .

Swiveling my gaze, I peer at Nix’s name on the wall. I had hoped it would be easier to find information about him, but I’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way and dig deeper while I’m undercover.

His eyes surface in my mind along with the way he had stared me down during the interview. That look at the table – the stern, ‘I see through you’ look. And the attention they held while we recorded – that sexy edge and that dazed sparkle. The more I reflect on it, the more I know that entire session turned him on, but I don’t let it go to my head because that probably happens no matter who is on that bed.

Find out who you are. I mouth the words, but his voice comes through clearly in my mind. Who am I?

It’s a question that rotates in my thoughts every time I touch on all things Nix and what I did in front of him; how okay I was with it all. How much I wanted him to join me and how I had fantasized about him on a few occasions yesterday.

I suppose, by the end of this, I’ll know exactly who I am. I’ll know who he is too because I fully plan to unearth every damn secret he has.

Outside my dirty bedroom window, a raven perches itself on my fire escape, and it draws my attention to its black feathers. The sky is as ominous as yesterday, the clouds bruised and puffy. Another typical fall day but that does nothing to the Raven’s decision to be out and about, even if the clouds threaten to let loose on him.

The bird quickly looks my direction when it feels my stare, and for a second, we hold eye contact – until the phone Nix gave me chirps. I nearly jump out of my skin, and the raven takes flight.

For the past day, I’ve had no electronics go off. No texts, no calls. I’d spent all day yesterday eating junk food and binge-watching a show I’d seen a thousand times. So this new sound? It made my heart skip a beat.

I reach over and grab the phone off the charger I had to buy for it, adrenaline dumping in my body. It can only be one person, and that person holds the fate of my undercover schemes in his palms. If he declines me, I don’t know what I’ll do. Going back to the station with my tail tucked between my legs is not an option. However, I have no plan B. Stupidly, I hadn’t thought of one while I was a couch potato yesterday. In fact, subconsciously, I dutifully ignored the fact that I may not get accepted into the fold.

But now . . . now this certain sort of fear makes my ears roar and my fingers tremble as I pick up the phone.

I swipe open the screen, and Nix’s text pops open. Swallowing thickly, I quickly read. Not that there’s much to read.

Nix: You’re in.

Attached to the text is a shortened link. Frowning, I hesitate before opening it. What if it’s a virus? What if it’s some strange technology I’m not privy to and allows him to listen to anything and everything that surrounds me?

“Don’t be paranoid, Charlie,” I growl at myself.

I press the link without a second thought, and it quickly opens a browser, heading directly to a website. My heart sinks, and my toes curl at the same time I – my face, my naked body, my obvious arousal – come into view. It’s a video on their website, and I’m the star.

Gulping, I press play, and before the action starts, three letters follow the word, “Introducing.”

Her.

The H is capitalized, and it’s then and there that I realize that this is my porn name .

You’re her , Nix had said when referring to possibly knowing who I am. Fitting, I guess, that he’d choose that name for me; because I know it was him who did it. I don’t have a shadow of a doubt. And I know he did it as a dig to me, telling me without telling me that he’ll find out exactly who I am to satisfy his curiosity.

He can sure try, but I know Miles did a good job with my identity. Sure, I’m a little worried, but I trust Miles’s capabilities. Just as long as I don’t give too much away, I should be safe from Nix’s inquiring mind.

The video plays, and my cheeks heat as soon as Nix’s voice comes through, giving me instructions. Silky. Smooth. Full of deepness and heat.

I blow out my pent-up breath and stop the video. The video must have received enough interest to sign me on, and that thought takes away from the embarrassment of what this video represents of myself.

Her. I’m Her.

My phone chirps again, and I exit the website and back to the screen. There are only a few apps on the phone, and the one with a money symbol has a little red dot next to it.

Frowning, I open the app, and then my eyes fly wide open. The amount of money that was just sent my way is astronomical. Is this just for one video? Did it really do this well? I don’t know the going rate for making porn, but if it brings in this kind of income . . .

I glance around at my shitty apartment. I wouldn’t have to live here, not if I didn’t want to. I could afford things other than junk food. I could do so much with that money that I –

“No,” I bark at myself to immediately stop the whirlwind of excited emotions. This is not a job. I am undercover. Nothing else in between.

Nibbling on my lip, I look back at the amount. I could really use the money though, and I can feel myself having a war about whether I’ll deposit it into an account or have Miles look into the account it was sent from.

Maybe I can do both?

I sit up in bed and swipe away my loose hair once more. I cannot let myself get too deep into this. Doing the right thing is prudent. I have to give this over to Miles; it’s the only way this investigation will move forward.

I stare at the amount though. I stare for a good long moment, and then my gaze lifts to my open door and the kitchen that is in view. Nathan’s box still sits there, and my mind turns to him.

What would he think of me for taking this money? For making porn in the first place? He may be dead, and we may have drifted so far apart that we might as well have been in two separate countries, but I know he’d be upset, disappointed, and appalled about this.

Sorrow grips my heart for a second, and before I know it, I’m climbing out of the bed and padding my way out of my room and to the box that squats on the counter. I set the phone on the counter and tuck my bottom lip between my teeth.

I haven’t touched the box since Miles put it there, but now . . . Now I run my fingertips over the corners. With numbness embracing me, I open the box. The familiar scent of his cologne wafts out, and I dip my hand inside and pull out the shirt that’s on top. It’s a ratted old thing from high school, one I had bought him when one particularly nasty girl started showing interest in him.

“I’m with her,” it says. A picture of me is at the bottom.

With a little water gathering in my eyes, I smile as I lay it on the counter. He had worn it almost every week. Until, one day, he didn’t . . .

The smile fades from my face, and instead of dwelling on it and whatever happened to us, I dig into the box again.

The bottle of his cologne comes out next. I give him a new bottle of this every Christmas. Same brand, same scent.

Lifting the cap off, I take a big whiff. He never once told me if he liked the smell or not, but he had worn it when he met with clients, so he had to have.

I set the cologne aside and take out a few other things that belonged to him; rocks he had picked up from his travels, a couple of pictures of our wedding, the gun he had kept in his nightstand, and lastly, his laptop. I stare at the laptop for a second, thinking about opening it and seeing what kind of screen saver he has now. It used to be a picture of us, but now? Now I don’t know what it is.

With a clench of my jaw, I decide not to open it because, either way, it’ll hurt.

I turn my back to his belongings and rest my ass against the counter as I fold my arms over my chest. I need to get my head on straight. It may not have been long since he died, but I have to move on. I have to focus on the here and now, on this case, especially if I want to stay alive. Having my mind on anything other than what matters most right now won’t help me stay alive. It won’t help me help those victims. It won’t help me save anyone, and it won’t help me prove that I deserve more than what I’d been labeled as by my peers.

I have a lot to prove, and I can’t do that if I’m still hung up on a man that I had drifted so far apart from that we were practically strangers. And it shouldn’t matter what he’d think about the porn. This is my life now, and his soul gets no say in it.