Page 42 of Knocked Up by my Best Friend's Brothers

“Enforcer circles,” I mumble.

“Yeah, they’re paying muscle to track you down, apparently.”

“Shit,” I gasp. “Any luck so far?”

“Not really. According to their texts, anyway… the orders came through sometime last week,” Spike says. “When did your letter arrive?”

“I picked it up earlier this morning.”

He takes a few more minutes to read through the chat logs while I retrieve my letter and stare at the words again. Thehandwriting seems rather rough and blocky. Capital letters. Each pressed heavily into the paper. Written in anger. Likely by a man.

Shivers trickle down my spine.

“I’ve flagged a few keywords to keep track of these conversations going forward. It’s the best I can do for you right now,” Spike says. “So far, it doesn’t look like your name is on the mob wire. But it could only be a matter of time.”

“I suppose I should skedaddle, then.”

“You only just got here,” he sighs. “But it could be a safer option. Where would you go? If the Mancinis made it to Portland, then they must’ve heard something about you from somewhere. Someone told them you’re from around here.”

“I didn’t keep such an accurate track of all the people I interacted with at Perry-Sage, Spike. My guess is someone remembered something I might’ve mentioned in passing or by the water cooler at one point or another.”

Spike nods in agreement. “It’s fine, Christa. You’re human, not a CIA operative. Let’s chill for a second and think things through.”

“I have to get out of here,” I sadly conclude.

I don’t yet know where I’ll go or what I’ll do, but it breaks my heart either way. It means that my work with Hawthorne Corporation has come to a premature conclusion. It means I have to get away from Teagan. From River and Cassius and Nathan. Oh, God, I have to run away, to leave them.

At this hour,I’m almost certain I won’t find the Hawthornes in the building. It’s late at night, and they usually head out before eight pm. We were supposed to meet for drinks tonight, but I made myself unavailable. Technically speaking, I am unavailable, though I would’ve liked nothing more than to hide in their arms and pretend there’s not a past for me to run from.

But I’m busy packing the few things I brought to my office, and in about five minutes, I’ll be busy again, wiping my identity and my presence from the Hawthorne Corporation’s systems.

“It’s Perry-Sage all over again,” I grumble as I fill a duffel bag with my chargers, my portable hard drives, an armful of books and folders I got for my work, and the decorative paperweights River has bought me every other week since I started here.

Behind my eyes, tears threaten as I close the bag and stick a particularly nasty USB drive into the back of the computer unit. I built the program myself to trace every single piece of information about me and to wipe it clean from the entire system and the corporate network.

I keep checking the time.

It’s almost midnight.

The faster I’m out of here, the better.

“Come on, come on,” I whisper, my heart racing anxiously as I wait for the USB drive to load and open my program.

Then, I hear footsteps outside my door.

I hold my breath, assuming it’s security doing their rounds. The lights are off. I forgot to lock the door, but they know not to come in here after hours. I snuck past the reception desk earlier, using my access card to get around. The perks of being upper management, I suppose.

But the door does open and in comes Cassius.

“Shit,” I manage, frozen in my seat.

“Christa?” he asks, sounding understandably confused. “What are you doing here in the dark? At this hour…”

“Hey,” I nervously laugh. “I forgot to turn the light on. My bad.”

I feel it before I can see it on his face. The suspicion. It cuts through me like a dagger, and I deserve it. I hate lying in general, and I hate lying to the Hawthornes the most. Not to mention, I’m really bad at it.

He turns the light on but stands in the doorway, his hazel eyes drilling hot holes into my soul. “Christa, what’s going on?”

---