Page 14 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

“We seriously need to talk about those disks.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “I should probably just return them.”

“Call me when you’re done.”

“Okay,” I say and hang up the phone, stuffing it back into my pocket. I push through the rotating doors of the exit and emerge onto the city street. The wind blows my hair to the side as I search the general area for any sign of my attacker. Nobody sticks out. Certainly nobody would be stupid enough to run down the street in broad daylight with a ski mask on their head.

Nick was in the shower, so I know it’s not him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not responsible for what happened. Still, he’s the type of man that likes taking things into his own hands. For example, I’m almost certain he wanted to strangle me on multiple occasions. In those brief moments of rage, I could see the fire in his eyes and then I saw the humanity in him pull him back from the brink.

I’ve never been one to trust my gut fully. I have a tendency to throw caution to the wind and pretend that everything is peachy keen when I should be running for the hills. There’s a tingling in my gut at the moment though that Asher could also be a suspect, albeit it’s a farfetched one. Still, I choose to trust what my gut is saying as I climb into my car and ask him to meet me. He gives me the address to the hotel where he’s staying, and I begin to make my way there.

I glance into the rearview mirror to see the SUV remain parked as I drive down the street. I have to squint to get a good glance at the driver, but it appears he’s having a heated conversation on the phone. Either he was never actually following me, or he’s being given alternate orders. I can’t be sure which, but take the chance to round the nearest corner and break line of sight.

* * *

It costs ten dollars to park in the parking lot of the hotel, but it’s a small price to pay for finding out the truth. That’s assuming he’s willing to tell the truth when confronted with my outlandish accusations. He has a tell though when he’s lying. It’s like his eyes can’t stay still and his eyes are always still. He likes direct eye contact, but the second the pangs of dishonesty overtake him, his eyes bolt.

I worry the effect an accusation will have on Asher, because he has always been a little sensitive, too much so for his own good. Like all the other men I’ve ever known, he hides his insecurities behind a façade of strength, but I am his one and only weakness. It’s why he’s always been blinded by me. It’s why he’s always believed me to be the perfect girl, the twin flame to his own spiritual being. It’s all been an act, a façade of my own creation.

The interior of the hotel, made of seemingly endless carpeted halls, is a far cry from the luxurious apartment Nick has rented for our secret rendezvous but it’s so much nicer than the motel my mother and I have been staying at since Emily burned down my childhood home.

I straighten myself out before knocking on his door at the end of the hall.

He answers with a smile, shirtless with one arm hanging high against the side of the door. “I knew you would change your mind. Are you ready to come home?”

The first thing I notice is that his hair is wet, but not shower wet. Wet as in he just furiously ran a mile and a half after attacking a woman in a stairwell. But the more I think about it, the more I can’t believe he would do such a thing. I let out a relieved but heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Name a more iconic duo than Addison Davis and cold feet.” He shrugs underneath the weight of an irritated chuckle. “I’ll wait.”

“Why are you so sweaty?”

He stares me down, almost as if he’s reading into the accusation my question was loaded with. Then he pauses for a moment as his eyes begin searching, shifting to the sides. “I just got done with a very strenuous workout.”

“I know you well enough to know that you’re lying.” I duck under his arm, forcing myself into his apartment. “You do that thing with your eyes.”

“Yeah, sure. Come in,” he scowls as he closes the door behind me. “It’s rude to invite yourself into someone’s place without permission.”

“I already have permission,” I remind him, waving my phone in the air. “So, are you going to tell me why your hair is wet, and why you smell like you just ran a marathon on a hot summer day?”

“I told you that I was working out.”

“And I told you that I know you’re lying, so knock it off. Where were you twenty minutes ago?”

He shakes his head as he walks over to the edge of the bed and takes a seat. He reaches backwards and shifts the blankets up towards the head of the bed, almost like he’s trying to hide something. “I was here in the hotel. I’ve been here all morning, bored out of my damn mind. I went down to the gym about an hour ago.”

“And the attendant at the front desk can verify that you were in fact at the gym?”

He narrows his eyes on me. “What is with the inquisition?”

I struggle telling him the truth because if he’s not the guilty party, he will drag me out of the Hamptons against my will. He has an irritating tendency to subscribe to the hero mentality, a constant need to rescue the damsel in distress.

But the only person this damsel in distress needs saved from is herself.

I rush forward, ripping the covers backwards, but there’s nothing underneath them. I really am just a paranoid mess as I comb my hands through my hair, embarrassed. I drop down onto the bed beside him and let out a sigh. “Look, I need to know that no matter what I tell you, you’re not going to go off the deep end and do that thing you do-”

“What thing do I do?” he asks, interrupting me.

“I don’t need a white knight to save me and if I did, that person wouldn’t be you.”

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