Page 52 of Coming Unraveled
“What do you know about the woman that worked with Dylan in the FBI?”
Brooks doesn’t know much, but he had spent time with Alexis Alta during Austin’s situation. He spends twenty minutes with Cliff telling him what he knows and watched as the man takes extensive notes.
As they finish up Brooks asks, “Should we be concerned about her?”
“No, I don’t believe so,” Cliff replies as he tucks the paper into his back pocket. “Come on I’ll let you out. It seems you have a long drive ahead of you.”
Brooks doesn’t spend much time in his house. Instead, he grabs his duffle bag, tosses a few items inside and gets right back into his car, thankful for the full tank of gas. Nothing is going to slow him down from getting to Everleigh. He didn’t understand her reasoning for staying away from him, but he is too invested in her to let her shut him out again.
Brooks yawns as he crosses the final bridge ending his six-and-a-half-hour drive to the small islands off the coast of North Carolina. His car veers to the right as he turns into the parking lot and he looks up at the condo building overlooking the water. If he wasn’t so exhausted and in desperate need to see Everleigh he would love to take the chance to take in the ocean view. Instead, he opens his car door and slings his bag across his back. Gripping the piece of paper in his hand he notes the room number and then steps into the building.
Standing just inside the doorway is a man about his height and build, but with just enough tattoos to match Cliff’s.
“Do you have your ID?” the man bellows from his perch against the wall.
“Uh, I’m just here to see someone.”
“Sorry, man. I can’t let anyone in that doesn’t live here. I’m sure you understand. Why don’t you head on back to your car and go home?”
“I can’t go home, man. My home is here.”
Damn, he is so tired he sounds like one of those televised movies his grandmother loves to watch.
“Then show me your ID.”
Dropping his bag, Brooks dives into his back pocket to reach for his wallet and then extricates his ID from its tight confines. He hands it into the colorful hand of the guard and watches as the man smirks before handing the ID back.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. McCafferty. My mom is a huge fan of yours,” the man says as he smiles beneath his hard veneer.
“That’s great. Does that mean you can help me?”
Instantly shutting down his features the man bellows, “No.”
“Look, I have been on the road for six hours and I need to make sure that my wife is ok.”
“Your wife?” he asks as he cocks his brow.
“Yes, my wife. We’ve been married for about five months. And while she ran off I was busy pummeling her ex and making sure he feels an ounce of the pain she has.”
“Look, I’m going to level with you. Her brother asked me for a favor and I always follow through on my promises. He asked me to keep everyone away from her, but when I checked on her earlier she was in the bedroom crying and I heard your name. Now, I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I’m willing to break my promise to her brother if it would make her happy in this messed up situation she has going on.”
“I would appreciate that. What’s your name?” Brooks inquires as he holds out his hand.
“Cohen. And I know how to kill a man fifty different ways with a pencil, so I advise you to leave if she doesn’t want you here. Understand?”
“Yes,” he agrees as he picks his bag up and hoists it on his shoulder once more. As he begins to enter the elevator car he asks Cohen, “Are you going to stand watch while she’s here?”
“My team and I will have an eye on her at all times, even with you here.”
“Thank you.” The words filter through the elevator as the doors close and Brooks’ heartbeat begins to quicken at the thought of seeing Everleigh. He begins to question his hasty move to come, wondering if she really will embrace him being here or if she will throw him out on his ass.
Before he can make that decision, the elevator chimes and opens onto her floor. He follows the long hallway down to the end, stopping at the door with the metal numbers along the side.
Taking a deep breath, he knocks three times on the wooden door, his pulse echoing in his ears. Brooks waits a minute before knocking again, his hope beginning to falter as he hears no movements on the other side. Glancing down at the silver watch resting on his wrist he notes the time as 4 a.m. When the door doesn’t open Brooks hikes his bag onto his other shoulder, still sore from his altercation with Austin earlier, and turns to head to a hotel in town.
The elevator doors open just as he hears a delicate voice at the end of the hall calls out.
“Brooks?”
