Page 52 of Faded Gray Lines
Okay, so the ringing wasn’t in my ears.
“This better be fucking important,” he growled. I pulled the sheet over me as I watched the lover in him disappear and the cartel underboss take over. “You did? Only one? What’s his name? Look, I can’t talk right now. No, don’t fucking text it to me. Are you stupid? Hold on, I’ll write it down.” Looking over his shoulder, Mateo made the signal for a pen.
I glanced around and having no idea where anything was in this place, I swiped my shorts off the floor and handed him the tiny red lipstick I kept in the pocket.
He raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he quickly cleared his throat, taking it from my hands and grabbing a discarded fast food napkin from the floor. “Okay, go ahead.”
I stared as he listened intently to whoever was on the other line. After scribbling a series of letters and numbers, Mateo hung up without saying goodbye, Ruby Red #3 bleeding into the stark white napkin.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He tossed his phone and the napkin onto the bed and rolled his neck. “I’m going to have to take a raincheck on round five.”
“Yeah, sure. I understand.” I lowered my lashes and curled into myself, wishing I could disappear.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That,” he said, pointing to the white knuckled grip I had on the sheet. “Don’t shut down on me just because I have to do my job.”
“Your job?” I snorted. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”
“I’m going to chalk your tone up to the stress you’ve been under and let it go.” Mateo reached for my neck and pulled me against him, kissing me long and hard. By the time he pulled away, I was ready to beg him to stay. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I shouldn’t be long.” Giving me one last kiss, he slid off the bed and walked naked toward the bathroom, his hard cock bobbing under its own weight.
I sat there long after I heard the water turn on. I should’ve probably used the opportunity to get dressed in privacy, but it required too much effort, and I preferred to pull the covers over my head and hide from my own foolish hope.
I didn’t know why I thought we’d spend the day together. I wasn’t on the schedule at Caliente until three o’clock, and it wasn’t like he had regular office hours. We also weren’t a couple. Just because he gave me his body, it didn’t mean he owed me anything else.
Less than twenty minutes later, after quickly dressing and mumbling another hollow apology, Mateo left. Dragging myself out of bed, I threw on the uniform I loathed and stopped suddenly, listening to a sound I hadn’t heard since driving to Luis’s.
Silence.
I was alone.
Alone in the place Mateo was staying in. With all of his things.
Alex’s warning from yesterday wailed in my head like a siren.
“Next time, I want something on Cortes.”
If I didn’t give it to him, he’d go to drastic measures to get it. My reasoning was skewed, but I rationalized if I controlled the information, I controlled the damage. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself I wasn’t betraying the man I was sleeping with. I was helping him.
I went for the obvious culprit first—his duffel bag. Mateo was a light packer, which made sense. When all you wore was a stalker’s uniform, there was no need for heavy packing. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I unzipped it, tearing through it with renewed vigor. Of course, I found nothing. I honestly had no idea what I thought would be in there. A smoking gun? A shipment of drugs?
This was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.
Annoyed, I pushed my heel out and kicked the bag across the room. That was when I saw it. The bag had been sitting on top of a crumpled pair of jeans. I recognized them as the black pair he’d worn the night he brought me here, but that wasn’t what caught my eye. It was the picture sticking out of the back pocket. Leaning forward, I pulled it out and held it close.
I knew it in an instant. The white dress. The building in the background.
The image before me blurred as tears and memories drowned me, dragging me back in time. The smiling face staring back at me looked familiar yet so foreign. Maybe because she was a version of me that no longer existed.
Crushing the picture against my chest, I openly wept for the innocent girl in the picture. I wept for the plans she made that would never happen. But mostly, I wept for the memory I thought I was the only one who remembered.
