Page 17 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

At first, I thought she’d left because of the argument with Wyatt. My ex-best friend, the guy I’d known since we were in elementary school, and the one man I thought I could trust to look after the only family I had left. And the guy she claimed had cheated on her.

Then I found out about the debts.

And the drugs.

My sweet sister, the girl I’d walked to ballet lessons every Tuesday when I was a teenager, had been addicted to coke. And Wyatt knew. He fucking knew, and he didn’t tell me.

Emma had skipped town owing thousands to some of the most dangerous players around, and I’d used all of my savings to pay them off. Because if I hadn’t and she ever came back, she’d be a dead woman the second she passed the city limits, and the assholes would have made my life pretty damn difficult too. In their eyes, one Cullen was as good as another when it came to getting their cash.

Now? Now, I was free, or as free as a man could be with fifty bucks in his pocket and a credit card abused to its limit.

Showered, shaved, and wearing my last pair of clean jeans, I found a parking space a block from Kimberly Jennings’s office and set off in the bitter wind. Living in my car wouldn’t have been so bad in the summer—hell, I’d slept under the stars often enough during my time in the army—but in the winter? Even after a hot shower, I hadn’t fully regained the feeling in my fingers and toes, and I’d forgotten what it was like to be warm.

The reception area of Just Imagine Events lay deserted when I peered through the glass panel in the door, but when I knocked, a slim blonde hurried through from the back. Dainty-looking. Nervous. She bit her lip as she pulled the door open.

“Reed Cullen?”

“That’s right.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Thank goodness. I was worried you might have changed your mind.”

I checked my watch. Five to ten. “I’m not late.”

“I know that, but… Thank you. Thank you for coming.”

After the call yesterday, I’d been expecting another woman of Maria’s ilk, but Kimberly seemed a complete contrast on first impressions. Timid instead of brash, soft instead of hard, sweet instead of…slightly scary, if I was honest. I pitied Maria’s new husband.

Kimberly motioned me forward into a room straight out of Barbie’s dreams and my nightmares. White leather chairs with chrome legs, fluffy sheepskin rugs, candles, mirrors, and flowers, flowers, everywhere. My dick shrivelled in protest.

“Please, take a seat. Would you like coffee? Usually, I go to Starbucks, but there’s nobody else here, and… We have a Keurig in the kitchenette. Or fruit tea? Or water? Or—”

“Coffee’s good. Thanks.”

“How do you take it? I’ve got cream, skimmed milk, hazelnut syrup… The caramel ran out yesterday.”

“Just black. No sugar.”

She hurried off, her movements jerky. Was she always this twitchy? Or had the “problem,” as Maria had so eloquently put it, left Kimberly running scared?

While she was gone, I took a better look at the room. Shit, I needed a haircut. Seeing myself reflected from five different angles made me realise just how untidy I was. Any longer and I’d be one of those guys with the ponytail. But back to the room… Real flowers. Real silver dish filled with fancy mints. Real nice view over the park on the corner. How much did an office like this cost? More than any place I’d ever lived in, that was for sure. The furniture was high end—nothing cheap here—and I checked behind me in case I’d tracked dirt over the cream carpet. My boots weren’t designed for this level of sterility.

“Here you go.”

Kimberly bustled back in and set a tray on the coffee table. Asymmetrical cups with handles stuck on at odd angles. Figured. Still, it was hot, as was the room. She’d heated the whole suite to tropical temperatures, probably to stop herself from freezing in that linen dress. It didn’t even have sleeves. How long could I make this meeting last? If I played my cards right, my feet might finally thaw out.

“Thanks.” I blew away the steam and warmed my hands on the cup. “So, do you want to start from the beginning? Maria didn’t give many details on the phone.”

“Okay, but there’s not much to tell. Not that I can remember, I mean.”

She was right. There really wasn’t much. Just the vague description from her friend and a bandage on his wrist. The lack of working security cameras at the hotel would be a problem because even if I managed to track the guy, proving what he did would be difficult. Everyone was fucking cost-cutting nowadays.

“Where did the cops pick you up?”

“I have no idea. Nobody said exactly. Just that it was by the side of a road somewhere.”

“We need to find out.”

“Why does it matter?”

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