Page 90 of Torched Spades
I clear my throat. “If you would take your seat, it’d be attempting to get to the root of your problem and solve it in just a few more weeks.”
Because that’s all we have left together before the terms of his probation are fulfilled.
“No, you and me,” he states, lowering a pensive stare. “What’sthis? Am I just supposed to come in here for the next few Tuesdays and pretend like nothing’s happened between us the last couple of months? That I didn’t eat your pussy right there on your desk? That I didn’t fuck it, then brand you as mine?”
“We got it out of our systems. I’m fully capable of being professional.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
There’s a moment where I think he’s going to back down, and I let out a staggered breath. Then he grips the back of my chair and lowers his head until his lips are only a whisper away from mine. And just like the puppet I am, I dance for him. My eyes flutter closed, and I wait, only to hear a dark chuckle from above.
Opening my eyes, I collide with his wolfish smile seconds before he turns toward my office door.
“Later, Doc.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have a few overdue scores to settle.”
“Johnny, please don’t…” I swallow hard, my throat as raw as it is tight. “Please don’t hurt anyone else. Promise me.”
“Last week, out there in that parking lot, what did I tell you about my promises?”
“That you never make ones you can’t keep,” I say so softly, I’m not sure I’ve even said the words.
He dips his heavily stubbled chin. “Exactly.”
With that, he closes the door behind him and leaves me drowning in guilt and silence.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BECCA
A full weekof rebuilding five years of strength takes a toll on the mind and body. My focus has been all but nonexistent ever since the courthouse attack. I’ve wandered through appointments with only appropriate-timed smiles and nods of encouragement as weapons; being present and engaged was just too exhausting. At the end of each day, I simply packed my briefcase and walked out, the fog I’ve been living in trailing after me.
That’s why I’m still sitting here at seven p.m. after Johnny walked out with only my desk lamp as my only company as I type six-days-worth of patient notes.
No one is here. Meredith left over an hour ago, along with all the other inhabitants of the building. I should be more anxious than I am, but in the safe confines of my office, I feel invincible.
Invisible with the added security of double-locked lobby and office doors.
I’m typing the last note on my two-thirty appointment when I hear footsteps in the lobby. My spine snaps to attention, my hands freezing over the keyboard. “Hello?”
Silence.
Anxiety snakes a cold hand around the back of my neck. Leaning over the side of my chair, I drag the bottom drawer of my desk open and sink my hand into my purse. “Meredith?” I call out shakily. “Did you forget something?”
There’s a click, and then, “Yeah,you.”
I don’t think. Everything switches to autopilot as I clamp both hands around the gun and aim it toward the door. I’m half a heartbeat away from squeezing the trigger when I see Johnny’s tall, muscular frame standing unapologetically in the doorway of my office. “How did you get in here?” I demand.
Ignoring the loaded gun aimed at his chest, he lifts his hand and brandishes a small pocket knife. “Been picking locks since I was nine.” A slow, dangerous smile tips the corners of his mouth. “Your security is shit, by the way.”
I lower my weapon, a rush of adrenaline and stagnant air whooshing from my lungs. “You need to leave, Johnny.”
“All work and no play makes Becca a frigid girl, Doc.”
