Shot in the Dark (Blackbridge Security #2) - Marie James Page 0,78

and in my distracted state as we were going over the final plans for tonight, I just mentioned they were in the closet. Of course, they were in my closet. Right where this fucking box was.

Fear and the evil side of adrenaline replaces the sexy anticipation I was feeling since Jones was taken into custody.

I don’t have to look at the shipping label on that fucking box to know my world just imploded, but I must be a glutton for punishment because I inch closer, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to make the impossible possible. I fail because right there where it’s always been is the evidence that I’ve had this fucking box for months without a mention of it to Whitney.

On slow, weighted-down legs, I make my way back to the guest bedroom, only noticing now that all of her things are gone. The clothes are no longer in the dresser, shampoo no longer along the side of the tub. Even Simon’s food and water bowls are gone. The litter box is missing, the bathroom pristine, making it seem like she was never here, like she was somehow a figment of my imagination. I know better, however, because if I breathe deep enough, I can still smell her on my skin.

Shame like I’ve never felt before sinks deep inside of me, but rather than fall to my knees and sob about the shitstorm I’ve caused, my legs move toward the front door of my apartment and then to the elevator. The FBI must move at lightning speed because Braden is no longer taking up space in the hallway, and for that I’m grateful. At least he doesn’t have to see my walk of shame to beg Whitney to forgive my misdeeds.

My hand stops on the panel because I’m making uninformed decisions right now which is something I never do. Heading back to my apartment, I fire up my computer, pulling the video feed from the front of my door and following her all the way back to her apartment. Timestamps tells me she was out of my place mere moments after I texted her to let her know that Jones was no longer a problem for her.

Tears mark her beautiful cheeks, and I want to reach out and wipe them away, apologize for being the cause of them, and swear on my own life that she’ll never cry because of me again if only she could forgive me.

I want to go to her, make her see that no matter how things started between us, we’re meant to be together. She’ll forgive me, right? I could see in her eyes last night how much she wanted to be exactly where she was, and that need only strengthened when I told her I wanted her here even after the coast was clear as far as Jones was concerned.

Chapter 32

Whitney

It takes less than an hour after getting his texts for the banging to start on my apartment door. Forty-three minutes to be exact.

My doorjamb was repaired when I came down here, my first time in this apartment since right before Jones kicked the door in. There are several reinforced locks that will keep me safe, but that doesn’t keep me from cowering with every noise.

“Baby.” A soft thud tells me he just tapped his head on the door, but I won’t run to him. Seeing his face would be too much. I’m terrified of the pain I’ll see there which is evident from the sound of his voice, but I’m also scared I’ll forgive him, and he doesn’t deserve that. He could’ve come clean at any point, and he chose not to.

“Please, Whitney. Talk to me.”

I snap my jaw closed when I have the urge to tell him he had a million chances to talk and he didn’t. He kept the damn box. That’s what doesn’t make sense. Why stash the evidence in the closet? Why not drop it in the dumpster so it doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass at a later date?

His showing up is actually surprising. I would’ve bet money that he would’ve slinked away like a dirty online snake when he figured out he’d been caught. I didn’t leave any doubt as to why I left because the evidence was there in the center of his bed, right on top of the covers we made love on last night.

No. Fucking. We fucked last night. Any relationship built on creepiness and lies could never ever