Page 85 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

I just don’t know what the fuck it’s saying or who is saying it.

And as much as I would love to keep Rachel from having to worry about any of this, now she’s right at the center of it as much as I am. By being with me, she’s put herself in the crosshairs of a danger she never knew was there…because I kept it from her.

I pull her away from my chest and glance down at her. “We need to call the cops.”

Fear darkens her green eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” I grab my phone from my pocket and usher her back toward the restaurant. “But we’re not safe standing out here. Let’s wait inside.”

I dial 9-1-1 as we make it to the front door.

She turns back toward the car and stares at it for a moment. “It has to be a mistake, right? Someone got the wrong car?”

Christ.

I wish I could tell her that’s what happened. Revealing that there have been other incidents I kept her in the dark about isn’t going to go over well.

* * *

RACHEL

The police officer glances down at his notebook and then back up at Flynn and me, where we stand near the car, Flynn’s arm wrapped around my shoulders and mine around his waist. “So…you didn’t see anything, didn’t notice anything suspicious or unusual, and just came out here and found this. Am I right?”

Flynn’s jaw tightens, and he nods. “Yeah. But…” He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand—one of the little tics he has when he’s nervous or thinking about something.

I squeeze my arms wrapped around his waist in support, but I honestly don’t know what he’s about to say. Since we walked out here and saw this, he’s seemed off.

The officer raises his dark eyebrows at him. “But what, sir?”

Flynn’s gaze meets mine, and the trepidation there makes the delicious dinner we just had churn in my stomach.

What’s he so afraid of saying?

Even in the shadowy, half-lit parking lot, Flynn’s unease matches mine. “Well, officer, there have been other incidents recently.”

“What?” I jerk my head around and look up at him. “What are you talking about?”

The officer narrows his eyes on Flynn. “I think you better give me the whole story here, son. If you have any idea who did this, we need to know.”

Flynn nods. “That’s just it…I don’t know who did it. Or who slashed my tires or put paint on my car.”

I step in front of him to face him and plant my hands on his chest. “Jesus, Flynn, when did this happen? Where?”

And how the hell didn’t I know about it?

The now obviously annoyed officer clears his throat. “Ma’am, if I can do the questioning, please.”

Shit.

I step back to Flynn’s side and offer a contrite smile. “I’m sorry, officer. I just wasn’t aware any of this was going on.”

It seems I was right when I said Flynn has been keeping things from me. And more than just being HRD4U, apparently.

The man I thought I knew better than anyone casts an apologetic look at me. “The first incident was two weeks ago. Monday. I went to leave for the day and found all four of my tires slashed in the parking structure at my office.”

The officer scowls. “And you didn’t report this to the police?”

I should keep my shock and annoyance silent since the officer doesn’t want me involved right now, but the words fall out before I can stop them. “Or tell me about it?”

---