Page 10 of Dying to Meet You

Words don’t make it out of his mouth which has dropped open as he props himself up on his elbows to see me better.

Running my tongue over my upper lip, I continue stroking him, but I know how much Matt loves a blowjob. I may not be the best in the house that honor is held by Blaine, but I will give it my all. Swallowing down his girthy nine inches causes me to gag briefly before I settle on massaging my tongue over his tip and working his cock with one of my hands.

I sit back just in time to see the jets of cum shoot out, using the back of one hand to wipe at my mouth. Lying back down atop Matt with his cum covering his abs, I kiss the side of his mouth. “Now we need a shower. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

We both start to speak. “I wan-” I start while he says, “I shou-”

“Go ahead,” I say through a laugh.

He cuddles me close, tucking my head under his chin. “I should let you know a couple things. I was going to tell everyone tonight at dinner, but since you’re here right now…” He scoots back to sit up further taking me with him. “I’ve been working on delaying leaving for LA. I’m not technically needed to testify for two weeks, but for some godforsaken reason my subpoena has a different date.”

My relief over him not leaving for a couple weeks is cut short by his next revelation. “But since I’m leaving later, I’ve been made aware of a string of copycat killings in Indiana and Pennsylvania, a possible serial killer.”

It’s always a trade-off. Safe from one tragedy and flung into the next. That’s been his job since being promoted to department head. His role is to supervise offices in Pennsylvania, Indiana, and New Jersey. At first, all the traveling was the worst part, but now his safety being in jeopardy wins out. I understand Keir being at the New York office was his reasoning for taking the promotion to other field offices; he never wanted even a hint of impropriety to affect Keir.

“I’m not liking the sound of that,” I reply as carefully as possible. He shouldn’t feel the need to manage my emotions over this.

“Three cases in a week of killings that are…” He squeezes me before continuing quietly, “They’re leaving The Realists marks behind.”

My sucked in breath and shaky denial don’t even begin to show how rattled this makes me. First the note, now this. “Matt? That’s…” Words escape me.

We were healing. Weren’t we? That summer didn’t define us anymore. That stupid study may be our origin story, but it doesn’t mean we have to relive it all over. Right? How is this even possible?

“We’ve kept tabs on the dark web for mention of the group, but other than a couple vague messages, their activity seemed to have died out. I don’t know, Eden. If I’ve learned anything, coincidences are rarely that. There’s an anniversary coming up.”

Camp Carroll. The start of my story.

“Matt, I have to show you something.” I quickly pull the T-shirt back on to grab the note I’d tucked into my purse. I come back with it as he’s scrolling through his phone. “This was left on my desk at work a couple of days ago.”

His jaw drops as he looks up at me. Reading it again, he says gravely, “You should’ve called me immediately, Eden. Right away.”

I agree, but I was busy denying what this is. I can’t tell him that, though, because it makes me sound like I’ve lost my mind. “I’m telling you now.”

“Who else knows?”

Making a face, I admit, “Just you and me. I thought maybe it was…a joke?”

He gets up, pacing the room while he sends a text, muttering, “A joke? How is that funny…?”

While I beat myself up for taking the note too lightly, Matt outlines his plan for protection. The irony: He didn’t know Keir’s plan yet came up with something similar. Only this one doesn’t include Rivera. One small consolation. Instead, he calls Keir’s superior asking for Harrison and Bristow the two agents Matt has known the longest. Both are familiar with Camp Carroll and The Realists.

“We’ll get through this. We will. You need to be careful. In fact, start seeing patients remotely again. Just until we sort this all out.” I’d considered that when the note spooked me. My time at home right now could help Zinnea, too.

“We can’t stay on lockdown here indefinitely. And what about you? Are you going to work remotely again?”Please say yes. He always downplays his risks.

I know the answer by looking at his face. Looking back down at his phone, he says, “I leave for Pennsylvania tomorrow to get briefed on the latest killing.”

So much for the illusion of peace I’d built in my head. It’s back…that dark cloud of suspicion. Waiting for the evil ghost that lives in my head to come alive is going to shatter me.

I can’t lose my family. If one of those cult members is coming for me, I hope with everything in me no one else becomes collateral damage. They can take me, put an end to this madness. But if they mess with anyone I love? That could be the start of my villain era.

The office building where Dr. Almari practices has fancy stone floors, potted ferns, and gold sconces. Abstract artwork dots the pewter fabric-covered walls. The air smells like cinnamon. We’re ushered into the lobby by a harried-looking nurse wearing dark-gray scrubs.

“She’s running behind schedule. Her last appointment was…” Spacing out momentarily she adds, “Never mind. She should be with you in a few minutes.”

Zinnea has had the same grim look on her face the whole way here. “Did you see the yogurt shop next door? We should stop there when you’re done talking to Dr. Almari. What do you say? I used to love frozen yogurt. We always called it froyo…” I realize I’m babbling nonsense because I’m ill at ease. Can she see how hard I’m trying?

The door swings open, and a steely-eyed middle-aged woman with cropped spiky silver hair comes in, adjusting her glasses. Her outfit is a cross between Bea Arthur circaGolden Girlsand your average grandma playing bingo in a housecoat. I’m caught off guard by the frown cast in my direction before she chooses to ignore me. Greeting Zinnea she says in a haughty manner, “Hello, I’m Dr. Almari. And you are?”

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