Page 10 of Ruthless Intent

Picking the cell phone up off the bed, I go back into the main room and check out the drinks in the refrigerator. Taking out a bottle of water, I sit on the couch.

“Bring it with you.”

There is a short silence. “Zain, going to her house?—”

“I’m not stupid, Peter. I have no intention of going to her house.”

I just want to know where she lives, what she’s doing, who her friends are, and what she looks like.

CHAPTER FIVE

ASHLEY

Even though I told Mom that I’d give her some notice before driving home, I can’t wait. The longer I leave it, the more chance there is of him going back to town.

I know that there’s no way her house isn’t already immaculate and ready to receive visitors. She’s always been houseproud, and airing out my room will take all of five minutes. If it’s even necessary. I’m sure the most I’ll have to do is make the bed.

I’m home alone, my housemates already at work, which means there’s no one there to talk me out of packing enough clothes for the weekend and going back home today. And anyway, there’s something inside me, my gut maybe, telling me I need to go home … and I need to go now. Putting it off will be a mistake.

I’m zipping up my suitcase when the doorbell rings. And that’s the moment I remember that I agreed to go for lunch with Scott. Our days off have matched for the first time in weeks, and he wants to spend the afternoon with me.

He’s been wanting that more and more lately. I’m content to see him once or twice a week, but he’s started insisting on seeing me more often. I’m considering whether it’s time to call things off with him. He’s nice enough, but I don’t want anything serious.

Pulling the suitcase off the bed, I drag it down the stairs, and lean it against the wall in the hallway, before I open the front door.

Scott hands me a bunch of flowers. “For you. I saw them on the drive here, and they reminded me of you.”

“Thank you.” I lead him through the house to the kitchen, so I can put the daisies into a vase.

“I forgot about lunch today, I’m sorry.” I put the vase on the windowsill. “I spoke to my mom this morning, and I’ve decided to go home for a couple of days.”

“Oh?”

“You just caught me, in fact. I was about to leave. I want to miss the afternoon traffic on the drive out of the city.”

“I can come with you, if you want. I’m owed some time off.”

“No. There’s no point in you wasting vacation time. I’ll go home, spend a couple of days with my mom, then I’ll be back.”

“But why now? Is your mom okay? She’s not sick, is she?”

I hesitate before replying. I should tell him the truth. It’s not like it’s some big secret that’s going to change our relationship. I don’t know why I don’t want to tell him. Maybe because he’ll ask why I’ve never mentioned it in the three years we’ve been dating. And I have no answer to that. He thinks I’m Ashley Truman, an only child, with no devastating tragedy in her past.

But there’s an edge to his tone. One that suggests if I tell him the truth now, he’ll take it personally. Like I’ve never trusted him with the real me.

It wouldn’t be a lie.

I stifle the little voice that whispers through my head. It’s not that I don’t trust Scott. He’s sweet. He’s nice. Our relationship is easy and comfortable. He makes no demands on me. It’s more like friends with benefits than anything else. And I like it that way because it means neither of us are getting pressured by friends and family to meet someone and date.

“Ashley?”

I turn so I can face him. His face is troubled.

“Is everything okay?”

I force myself to smile. “Everything is fine. I’m just homesick.”

“It has nothing to do with that guy being released from prison this morning?”

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