The Dirty Series 1(33)

What the hell is it? The way she looks? The way she’s so confident in the office, but has moments of such breathtaking vulnerability? The way she never flinches when Sarzó hands down another list of things for her to do?

The way she’s breaking from the pressure, but doesn’t realize it?

The way she folds so fucking gracefully?

I don’t know.

All I know is that I’ve been kidding myself. I need so much more from her than a few thirty-minute sessions. If I have to spend the rest of my life without her, I…

My mind recoils from the thought of being pinned down, trapped under the influence of a woman who might turn on me. Can I afford to be blinded by love?

What the fuck are you thinking, Hunter?

If I could scream out loud without attracting attention, I would.

Going to the window, I run my fingers through my hair and force myself to take five long, deep breaths.

Control yourself.

Think through this logically, carefully.

Set the emotions aside.

The only problem is that I can’t set my emotions aside. They’ve embedded themselves so deep that I can’t get away from them.

All I can do is hold them at arm’s length.

When I do, all I can see is how real they are.

How the hold Cate has on me will never break.

Fuck.

I know it’s true. I know it is. I know this a kind of raw aching love that already has its claws fixed so deep into my life that I will never get free. I am just like my mother, who loved my father so completely that even though her mind has deserted her, she still wants him. For her, he is still the charming, handsome devil she married all those years ago.

I’m out by the street before I realize I’ve called Peter to bring the car around. I open the door and fall heavily into the seat as soon as he pulls to a stop.

“Where to, sir?” he says over his shoulder.

I stare straight ahead.

“Drive, Peter. Just drive.”



While he circles the city streets, making careful turns and doubling back, again and again, my mind turns over and over. What do I do? What do I do?

Find her. Take her. Have her.

It’s the only answer that makes sense.

Energy surges through me and I snap forward, Cate’s address on my lips.

“As fast as you can, Peter. As fast as you can.”



The heat hangs thickly over the city while Peter does his best to navigate the Friday night traffic. Now that I’ve made up my mind, it seems unbearable to wait for other cars to stop and go, to make ill-advised turns, to be in my fucking way.

Finally, finally Peter pulls up into an illegal spot in front of Cate’s building. I scramble out of the car, stopping only to straighten my shirt, which is wrinkled from sitting slumped in the car.

The doorman behind the desk sits up when I come in, rushing for the elevators.

“Sir? Sir.”

I don’t have time for this shit.

The heels of my shoes drag on the ground as I abruptly change course. His eyes widen and he reaches for something near his waistband, but I pull my hand out of my pocket and hold it out to him.

“I swear, I just need to see my girlfriend. Catherine Schaffer. I’m not going to do anything crazy,” I say in my calmest voice, smiling broadly at him.

He takes the $500 I press into his hand.

“If you’re not down in ten minutes, you have her call me,” he says in a deadly serious tone, looking me straight in the eye.

“I will.”

Another long moment passes, and then he gives me a sharp nod.

The elevator deposits me on Cate’s floor. There are four apartments, and it’s only when I’m standing in the hallway that I realize I don’t have her apartment number. I can’t call down to the desk and ask, because that guy already thinks I’m a fucking psycho. It would be highly inconvenient to waste time right now dealing with the police.

So I choose a door.

Knock gently but firmly.

A guy about my size answers, a beer in his hand, his work shirt untucked. This is a nice building and he looks like he has some money, but he’s obviously not happy to see me.

“Sorry to bother you,” I say, keeping my face neutral. “I’m here to see Catherine Schaffer. Do you know which apartment is hers?”

He raises the beer and points down the hall—last one on the right.

“Thanks.”

He closes the door without a word.

Outside Cate’s door, I take a deep breath and force myself to hold it for a moment before I let it out. Energy zings all the way from my spine to my fingertips.

It’s now or never.

I raise my hand and knock three times on the door.

True to form, Cate opens it only a moment after I finish knocking.

She’s wearing a loose pair of linen pants and a white tank that hugs the curves of her breasts, and her eyes are red and puffy. When she sees me, she presses her lips into a thin line—but she can’t stop the flicker of hope from showing on her face.