Page 88 of Daring You

24

Astor

I’m staringat my closed laptop, perched on my couch all innocently, when I can really blame everything that’s happening on its silver, battery-powered self.

If my firm didn’t take this case, I’d never know about Ben’s protected past.

Part of me wishes I could just hate Ben the way I always have, or, barring that, drool over him and flutter my eyelashes whenever he walks by, like most ladies tend to do when he’s in their proximity.

In either scenario, I don’t want to be smart. I wish I’d never figured out who he was. I wish I could just fuck him and forget him, be enemies with benefits, and have nothing more to do with Ben Donahue other than sharing godparent rights to a sweet baby girl.

And I love my intelligence. It’s what got me past any horror, burying my grief in knowledge and data. Solving other people’s mysteries when I couldn’t fathom my own. I’m a proud woman in a powerful career, making my own way, and I’m horrified I’m made to regret that right now.

At the moment, my brain’s only buried me in deeper shit.

Or is it my vagina?

Could be both.

Mike’s aware of Ben and I’s…whatever we have going. He’s a bomb ready to press his own detonator as soon as the chance arises, unless we preempt Mike with our own self-destruction.

I ask Ben, before he leaves, if he’s going to my brother.

“Do you want me to?” he responds.

“I don’t know,” I said. I search for my ring finger to fiddle with it, realize it’s bare, and drop my hands to my side. It’s a nervous habit I’m ready to ditch. “But I do know he needs to hear it from you or me, not Mike.”

“You got that right.”

“I want it to be me,” I say, with sudden emphasis.

Ben nods, the man full of more understanding than I ever gave him credit for. “How much time do you think we have?”

“Mike likes to think he’s unpredictable, but he often needs liquid courage before he does anything risqué. Let me check.”

Ben’s stare follows me curiously as I go to the kitchen island, pull open a drawer, and tap in the passcode to Mike’s iPad.

“Yeah, he’s at a bar not far from here.” I look up from the screen. “Mike’s a lot of talk, and to face down Locke? To text him something like this? I don’t think Mike’s eager to be a victim of the results.”

“You’ve got satellite eyes on the guy?”

“It’s not what it seems.” I have a weird urge to defend myself. “The Find My Phone thing. It’s on here.”

“You got me on that thing?”

“Of course not.”

“Locke?”

“Well, maybe. But he’s a little fucker, too, ‘cause I know he’s doing the same to me on his phone.”

“Do you all think you’re gonna be kidnapped or something?”

“Can never be too careful.”

Too late, I realize where our banter’s going. Ben is, in fact, at a high risk of being kidnapped if he’s ever found out.

He reads my expression perfectly, and reacts with a low growl. “This is exactly what I’m worried about. You can’t react like this, Astor. Any time a murder comes up or a badly-timed joke—you gotta keep a straight face.”

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