Page 35 of Winning Bid

19

JUNE

I’m just minding my own business when Anderson walks in with a look on his face so scary that I would have sworn he’d been in another fatal fight. I leap to my feet and rush to his side. “Baby, what’s?—"

But he grabs me in a bear hug that he clearly needs more than my words. So, I hold on until his body goes … well, not limp exactly, but slightly less tense. He kisses the top of my head, then goes straight to the scotch.

“What is going on? Did somebody die?”

That makes him blink at me. “What? No.”

“The way you looked when you walked in, I wasn’t sure. Tell me what’s going on now. I don’t think I can take another surprise.”

He sighs and sets the scotch down. “I spoke to the police today.”

My book falls from my hands, and I don’t bother to pick it up. “You did what?”

“Yeah. With Otto Pym?—"

“Otto ‘The Blade’ Pym?” A shiver shoots down my back.

“He’s not as scary as the rumors would have you believe.”

“I’ll take your word for it. How—your dad, right? He hired him?”

Anderson nods. “And Otto is worried.”

Fuck. The Blade is nothing if not confident. “Worried why, specifically?”

“Connolly, of Bryce-Connolly, does not like the bad press that’s coming out over this, and he has connections at every level of law enforcement.”

I can’t wrap my head around that. “Neil was a new hedge fund manager. Why would Connolly care about that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Since no one local knew Neil, the only connection people make in the news is that he worked there, so their name is tainted, and Connolly thinks it’s bad press. Pym says he’s likely a part of the reason this is getting so much attention. Connolly wants this solved, so they’re going to come down hard on anyone associated with the case.”

I snatch his scotch and knock it back before pouring him a new one. This is too much. I can’t keep taking more shit, and I can’t avoid it, either. It’s all I can do to keep breathing, and my legs are going boneless. “I can’t … I just can’t … what do we do?”

His head tips back in frustration before he drinks his scotch. “In a perfect world, we’d just run away. Leave it all behind. No forwarding addresses … just ghost everyone.”

“In your perfect world, we’re fugitives?”

He lifts a shoulder and smirks. “Think about it, and tell me it doesn’t have a certain appeal.”

I huff a laugh. It’s absurd. We’re adults. We can’t just run away from home.

But…

Admittedly, it sounds amazing. Still not an option, though. “It’s a nice fantasy, but we live in the real world, and in the real world, we are fucked.”

“We are not fucked. We?—"

“If Otto Pym is nervous, then we are fucked with a capital F.” And now, I hear it in my voice. The fear.

Anderson takes my hands and presses them to his chest before kissing my palms. “Baby, I love you.”

I don’t know why, but hearing that now brings tears to my eyes. “I love you too, but that doesn’t?—"

He kisses me.

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