Page 99 of Double Bucked

“You have a temper. You’re spoiled. You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever encountered. You are a lot of things. But you’re not just a job. You, Claire, are the first thing in my life that ever felt like home. So, yes. I had to be that close. Because any distance between us was physically unbearable.”

The pain in those blue eyes. The intensity in his voice. The way that vein in his neck lifts and strains. He seems so sincere.

But, worse, I believe him.

Why, after all the lies, do I still believe him?

I can feel Ransom watching us. Quietly. Waiting to see what I do.

Waiting to see if I go running back to him.

And then, I’m saved by the bell.

Or, rather, the clock.

That old grandfather clock chimes on the hour. Its old ring echoes in a slightly distorted, vibrating sound.

Everett cringes as though he’s been stuck.

The chime of clocks, I know, is an auditory trigger. He once described the sound of chimes as the feeling of flesh being ripping from bone.

I hate the clock, suddenly.

I hate the clock that hurt the man who hurt me.

The twisted Stockholm syndrome of it all makes me dizzy.

A kaleidoscope of emotions whips through me. Sadness. Pain. Guilt.

And then I settle into the only emotion I’ve ever been comfortable with.

Anger.

I wrap my fingers around the paperweight stone. I growl, “I hate. That fucking. Clock.”

I throw the rock as hard as I can. It hits its target—the clock—which gives a groan and a pop as the face collapses and pins spring free. The glass shatters and scatters to the floor.

But at least the chiming has stopped.

Everett exhales a breath of relief.

“You see that?” Ransom asks suddenly. He gets to his feet. “There’s something in there.”

Everett goes over to the smashed clock. He reaches into the glass and pulls out the stone.

It’s split in half. A clean split. Too clean.

When he takes the rock apart, there’s a small key inside of it.

A key…

Oh! A key!

“Give it,” I say. I lift my hand. “I think I know where it goes to.”

Everett closes the distance between us and hands the key over to me.

I drop to a crouch in front of the bottom drawer on Daddy’s desk. My fingers are shaking as I snap the key into the lock and—eureka!

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