Page 42 of Fletch

My mobile vibrates in my bag, and I pull it out to see Karen’s name on the screen. “Shit,” I murmur. “I have to take this.”

I slip off the stool and head for the bathroom. “Hi, Karen,” I answer, trying to sound unwell.

“How’s the migraine?” she asks.

“Not great,” I mutter. I hate lying, especially to my boss, but I just couldn’t face work tonight.

“I spoke with your father,” she announces, and I cringe. “He told me you were fine earlier. He also mentioned you were having problems at home.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, staring at my tired face in the mirror. “Why would he tell you that?”

“Maybe he’s worried?”

I roll my eyes. He’s never worried a day in his life, especially not for me. “Look, Peter and I have split up, but I’m fine. I just needed a day to get myself together.”

“Oh, Gem, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I’m fine. It was a long time coming.”

“Take some time off,” she says gently.

“No.”

“Your father thought it would be best, and I agree with him.”

“I don’t need time off. I’m fine. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

She sighs. “Okay, but the offer is there, and if I think you need it, I’m going to make it happen.”

I disconnect and groan. He’s looking to get me off this case.

When I return to the bar, Fletch is back, and he and Nyx are now sitting at the table together. I sit beside Fletch, and he smiles, throwing an arm around the back of my chair. It’s an alpha move, reminding me of when he was younger.

“Tell me about how you two met,” Nyx says, topping up my shot glass.

“No,” says Fletch firmly.

I laugh, nudging him playfully. “Don’t be so grumpy. Fletch was the local bad boy.”

Nyx grins. “Really? Tell me more.”

“All the girls loved him,” I say in a teasing tone, “and he was always in trouble with the police.”

Ten

Fletch

Ilisten as Gemma tells Nyx the version of events how she remembers them. I remember them differently.

“He was in the back of my father’s police car when he stopped to speak to me.”

He’d demanded she go home because, in his opinion, she was dressed like a slut. She wasn’t. She’d been wearing leggings and a shortish jumper that rode up when she moved, showing a slight bit of her stomach. “You’re too fat to wear that,” he’d hissed, and I remember her looking so mortified, it made me want to smash his face into the steering wheel.

“Anyway, then he popped up everywhere, and before I knew it, he’d worked his sweet charm, and I was kissing him behind an abandoned house.”

It was my house, but the second she’d screwed her nose up as we walked up the drive, I panicked and told her it was some derelict house and we just hung out around the back. I never took her back there after that, and I avoided all talk about my family.

“How old were you?” asks Nyx, and I can see the lust in his eyes. He’s warming up, and I shouldn’t be pissed about it—after all, I texted him and told him to come here so we could put the plan into action. But now, as he leans closer to her, his eyes fixed on hers like whatever she says is the most important thing in the world, jealousy is burning through my veins.

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