The Dirty Series 2(71)
I roll my eyes. Adam’s Xbox is probably the only thing in there that would be worth anything. “You realize it will also be a pain in the ass for me to go to Brooklyn.”
“I know.”
My heart softens. I’m still pissed the hell off that Adam dragged me into this situation, but we’ve been through too much together for me to just abandon him. It almost never comes to mind when I’m awake in the middle of the night, even though telling him to fend for himself would definitely be the best option for me. “Okay. I’ll head over there after work and let you know how it goes.”
I bask in the sun for another five minutes, then head back into the office.
There’s nothing to do but work furiously until five o’clock, when I can probably sneak away...if everything is done.
Hadley sequesters herself for the rest of the workday, which is a damn blessing. I glue my eyes to the computer screen and type at an incredible pace until every task in her system has the little white checkbox next to it filled.
At five o’clock sharp, she’s still holed up behind her door, so I throw together a summary email and leave the office before she has a chance to ask me questions about it.
My heart rate goes up during the cab ride to Sunset Park. At least this time Adam’s not in imminent danger—all I need to do is make sure his apartment is intact, and then I can head right back to the safety of Jett’s apartment.
Jett....
Time is running out for me to tell him, a thought that makes my stomach knot up. It’s just that every time I try to think about the right words, nothing comes to me. My mind draws a blank.
The truth is that there’s no way to say this to him without losing him.
And I desperately want to keep him.
At long last, the cab driver deposits me a block away from Adam’s place.
“Wait for me?” I press a twenty into his hand, and he gives me a surly nod and turns the radio up.
The sidewalk is clear as I start down the block except for a mom pushing her baby in a stroller. I smile at the baby’s chunky legs. A little of the strain in my shoulders dissipates in the sunlight.
Until I get closer.
The sidewalk isn’t clear after all.
The man standing there jogs my memory, but it takes a good thirty seconds to remember where I saw him last.
On the way to the police station.
He’s still got a CD case in his hands, and as he walks back and forth in front of the door to Adam’s building apartment, he spins it in his fingers, slaps it against his leg.
Charlie has eyes everywhere, and he clearly hasn’t given up on taking Adam for everything he’s worth.
My blood runs cold in my veins, but I don’t want to make a scene. He hasn’t seen me yet. So I turn toward one of the shops nearby and pretend to look in the window, then slowly turn back. I just want to get to the cab....
My phone rings in my purse, and I grab it and answer it without looking. Jesus, Adam, have some patience.
“Yeah?”
“Angelica.”
Jett.
“Are you coming down?”
Shit.
“I had to check on something—I’m in Brooklyn right now, actually.”
“What’s in Brooklyn?”
“My brother’s apartment.”
Jett takes a beat to answer. “Is he all right?”
“I didn’t talk to him.” That’s as much of the truth as I can offer. “I guess he left yesterday to go visit home. He wanted me to check on his place.”
“Do you want me to come get you?”
“No,” I say, climbing back into the cab, moving slowly and carefully, trying my damnedest not to draw any attention. “I’m in the cab right now.”
“Good,” he says, and then lingers in the pause like he wants to say something else. “Come home. I miss you.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jett
This business about Angelica’s brother seems to have cropped up out of nowhere, and something about it needles at my mind.
I have Stuart drop me off at the penthouse, then send him off to a place down the block to pick up dinner. Rush hour traffic is going to make for a long trip back from Brooklyn. She’s got to be starving, and I want to know more about her brother.
We never got around to talking about it after I surprised her the other night as she was sneaking in the door.
Angelica comes through the door fifty minutes later, shoulders slumped, face pink from the heat.
“Hi, sweet thing.”
“Hey,” she says, kicking off her shoes and dropping her purse on the table in the foyer. Then she gives a little sigh.
“Glad to be back?”
“Glad your air conditioning never fails.”
I shrug. “If it did, I’d go to another one of my places. Are you hungry?”