Page 74 of Another Girl Lost

She snapped one silver cuff around her wrist and then clasped her hands behind her back. He reached around and locked the second cuff. He tightened it until he knew it pressed into her skin. She winced.

“Too tight?” he asked.

“No.” She rose and hovered over his erection. With her arms pinned behind her, her breasts jutted out more. He guided himself inside her.

“What next?” she asked.

“Ride me.” His whispered words were rough, raw.

Desire and orgasms were only a temporary fix. Once the glow faded, the darkness came back. But that problem existed in the future. Right now, he had a beautiful woman riding him. He ran his fingers up her flat belly and squeezed her breasts. The outside world fell away.

If life had taught him anything, it was to take one problem at a time. Let them all gang up on you at once, and they’d eat you alive.

Chapter Twenty-Three

SCARLETT

Monday, July 15, 2024

8:30 p.m.

I arrived at the gym near closing time. I liked the evenings because the place was quiet. Most were either in the showers or enjoying a summer evening. I had a full hour until the place closed. Plenty of time to climb.

I set my bag by the wall, changed into climbing shoes, and doused my hands with chalk. Looking up at the jutting rocks, I identified the spot that had nearly cost me big-time the other day. I’d scaled these rocks a hundred times before and never fallen. However, that was then. Now it was quiet, and I would not be lulled into looking back. If there was a Della look-alike lurking around, she wasn’t here now. I’d been obsessing about her today, but on the wall, I didn’t have the brain space to think about her. Later she’d return to my thoughts, but for now it was just me and the wall.

Without a belayer, I’d be arrow focused. No, it wasn’t safe, but it was an effective way to keep my mind in the moment.

I worked my fingers into the groove of the first stone. The initial twenty feet were easy going. My feet found footholds effortlessly, and my hands slid into the ruts I knew very well. I continued the climbupward, anticipating the more difficult holds and slippery footings. My fingers ached as I pinched the rocks and hauled myself up another few inches. How many times in Tanner’s basement had I dreamed of climbing to freedom?

My fingers cramped around a rock, forcing me to pause and loosen my hold. Against the wall, my breathing was fast. Sweat trickled down my back as I pushed closer to the hot lights.

When I’d stared at Tanner’s basement ceiling, I memorized all the cracks, learned the pattern of the pipes that leaked, and trailed the paths taken by the bugs. That ceiling had become its own world. I’d spent hours pushing past it, climbing up, ripping away insulation, and breaking through the living room floor I’d never seen. I would imagine dashing to the front door, twisting the knob, and stepping into the hot sun. And then I’d run until my lungs and legs burned.

The lights above me hummed, popped, drawing my attention back to the present. I finished the last ten feet and scraped my fingers against the acoustic tiles.

The trip down was always risky. The stones were out of my field of vision and I had to rely on my memory. Slowly, I inched down, gripping and digging toes into plastic rock.

When I reached the floor, a rush of adrenaline flooded me. I’d escaped again. This feeling was a temporary fix. It would get me through the evening, but it wouldn’t last. Peace, harmony, love—none of it ever lingered. I supposed there were people who lived in a state of bliss, but I wasn’t one of them.

“You move like a pro.”

The familiar male voice had me turning to find Luke Kane. He was wearing a faded Naval Academy T-shirt, shorts, and athletic shoes. “Thanks. When did you get here?”

His gaze steadied on me, warmth settling in the curve of his smile. “I was on my way out of the weight room when I looked up and saw this crazy woman climbing to the top without a spotter.”

“And you thought, ‘I know that woman.’”

He chuckled as a flicker of awe shimmered in his dark eyes. “You do this often?”

“Five or six days a week. Reminds me to keep my mind in the moment.”

He seemed to file the detail away with all the other facts he had amassed on my story. “Did it work tonight?”

“Well. Real well.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t texted. Big case prep.”

“I get it. We all have busy lives.”

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