Page 17 of Dangerous Pursuit

“Ah shucks, I forgot to tell ya. He owes boss two hundred grand, sweet cheeks. Looks like you’re gonna be playin’ our games for a while.” He winks at me before they walk out the door.

WHAT THE FUCK?

Jackson

Something’s off. Mia’s been jumpy all day. She’s not holding herself like she usually does, confident and poised. Instead, she’s hunched and withdrawn. I notice because, despite my best efforts, I’m constantly paying attention to her even when she thinks I’m not, and I know something’s wrong.

The problem is that I’m her asshole boss who shouldn’t care, but I do. She doesn’t know that, though, and as it stands, has no reason to confide in me, but it’s been plaguing me all afternoon. Since I can’t let it go, I need to get to the bottom of this, and I’ll do it the only way I know how.

“Mia, can I see you for a minute? Don’t knock, just come in,” I say through the intercom.

“Sure, I’ll be right there.” A minute later, the door opens, and she approaches my desk. “What can I do for you?” There it is, the hunch, the head down, the meekness. It’s not her.

“Well, for starters, you can tell me what the hell is going on.” The flinch further proves something isn’t right. She never reacts to my harshness.

“I… what do you mean? Did I do something wrong?”

“Is there anything I should know about?”

“No!” she practically shouts. “I mean, there’s nothing, sir. I mean Jackson. I just… I didn’t get much sleep last night and must be tired. I’m sorry. I’ll snap out of it, I’m sure.” She’s fidgeting with her hands, rubbing her wrists—something else she never does—and that’s when I see the marks.

“What the fuck? Mia, hold out your hands.” I’m seething.

“What? No, I’ll just get back to work, okay?” She’s pleading.

“Hands, now. I won’t ask again.”

She slowly raises her arms and reaches out. I grab one and barely push the sleeve up to confirm what I saw. Sure enough, a gnarly mark around the outside of her wrist looks like it’s from a rope or zip tie. I rub my thumb over it, and she flinches. I inspect her other hand and find the same.

“Do you want to explain why it looks like your wrists were bound? Does that have anything to do with why you’re so skittish today?”

She yanks her hands away and steels herself. “No. I said I was fine, and I meant it. It’s nothing. And it’s none of your business what I do in my private time.” This is the Mia I’m used to. Strong and defiant with her head up—which is how I catch sight of the faint bruising around her neck that looks like she did a cover-up job to hide. Seriously, what the fuck happened?

“The bruising around your neck and the wounds on your wrists say otherwise, so again, is there something I need to know about?”

“Like I said, my private life is not your concern, nor is it your business. Can I get back to work now? I have a lot to do before the weekend.” She stands tall, ready to retreat.

“Mia, I can help if you’re in trouble. I can’t have my assistant distracted, so if I need to eliminate that distraction, I will. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I don’t need help. I’m not discussing my personal affairs and what goes on during my time away from the office. What I choose to partake in is my choice. And that’s all I’ll be saying on the matter. May I be excused?” So, that’s what she’s going with. Unbelievable. Anything else may have been more believable than the bullshit she’s implying.

“If that’s the direction you’re taking, then yes, you’re excused. But, Mia, I don’t believe you for a second. If you had a proclivity of that nature, you wouldn’t be scared of your own shadow today. I’ll find out the truth, one way or another.”I’m not letting this go.

“It’s the truth. In fact, I have another date tonight, but I won’t let my personal life interfere with work again. Don’t bother wasting your time searching for answers that aren’t there. Just let it go.” She doesn’t wait for a response but turns around and walks out.

I know she’s lying. Something is going on, and she’s too scared to tell me. Granted, she has no reason to trust me. I’m her boss who treats her like shit, not someone she can talk to. Does she have anyone who can help?

Realizing I know nothing about her life outside work, besides her mom cleaning for my parents and her dad being out of the picture, I decide it’s time to learn more about Mia Marcos—and I know just the person to ask for help.

Me: Can I get the name of the private investigator you use?

Eli: I’ll send you the contact. Need any help?

Me: Not at the moment. Thanks, man.

Eli: You bet. There’s a game this Saturday, want in?

Me: Sure, another thing to keep my mind out of the gutter.

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