“The FBI found copious amounts of Nightwalkerin this warehouse, baby. This may turn into something bigger than we anticipated.”
My lips parted. “Oh fuck.”
“Exactly.”
Ash’s eyes flashed with fury, but he kept quiet. In fact, he didn’t speak much at all when he was on “duty” with me.
Swallowing my fear, I asked. “So what happens now?”
“Now, Ash will drop you off at my place, I’ll come home and cook us dinner.”
“Hayes—”
“There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing I want you to do. The only thing I want you to do is focus on school and work. The boys and I have this. I’m in constant communication with the FBI while they handle this case.” He paused. “I need you to trust me, Margo.”
“I do,” I whispered back, tucking the phone closer to my mouth. “I do trust you.”
“I’ll see you at home,” he promised, his voice warm.
“You don’t have to walk me up, Ash,” I grumbled, pulling my bags over my shoulder as he shifted his truck into park.
“Yes, I do,” he said gruffly, getting out of the vehicle.
Without waiting for him to come around, I opened the door and slid down. When my Docs hit the pavement of the parking garage, the sound echoed through the late afternoon. A yawn left me. “I don’t know how I’ve been handling all these commutes,” I muttered to myself, closing the door with my hip. Ash walked ahead of me, scanning the parking level as I trailed behind him, searching for my keys. Hayes’ apartment didn’t have a key. It had a key fob that you held up to the doorknob. It was positively stupid. I hated the damn thing. It was clunky and messed up the turtle key chain pattern I’d been working on for years.
“Any plans tonight?” I looked up at Ash, smirking.
“Working on your case.”
I blinked at his profile. “What are you going to be doing?”
“Searching for Gordon.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “I thought the FBI was handling that.”
“They are.” He looked at me. “I’m just searching in the places they tend to overlook.”
The elevator doors dinged open and we were off. He led me down Hayes’ hallway, stopped in front of his door, nabbed the keys from my hold in a flash, and opened the door without a word. He put his hand on his gun and instructed me to wait outside while he did a sweep. This usually took two seconds, but when I heard his familiar “What the fuck?” rumble out into the hallway, I ran inside without a second thought.
“What?” I yelled, stopping just before the kitchen island. “What is it?”
Ash stormed out from the mouth of the hall that led to Hayes’ bedroom, eyes on fire. “Margo, call the cops.”
A voice, feminine and irritated, floated from down the hall, hitting Ash’s broad shoulders. He turned to face the woman it belonged to, raising a finger to her, his jaw iron tight while I stood there, frozen and confused.
“You broke into this fucking apartment,” he growled. “I can’t wait for the cops to drag you away in fucking handcuffs. You went too far this time, Veronica.”
Veronica.
That name snapped me out of my frozen stupor, my hair flowing behind me as my Docs pounded across the floor. I put my bags on the edge of the island with a heavy thunk and went to stand beside Ash. To get a good look at the woman who’d treated Hayes like trash. Just as I turned to face her, she turned her head toward me. Her hair, a long golden brown, was curled to perfection. Her lips, filled with Botox, were painted a red that was too dark for her complexion. She was tall, like me, but I had at least fifty pounds on her. The sweater dress she wore was out of place and rumpled, as if she had just thrown it on. I watched her watch me as she ferociously adjusted herself. When she was done, she raised her chin, looked at me like I was the shit on thebottom of her shoe, and said, “She doesn’t look like your type, Ash. Then again, you only need a pretty pair of legs to open for you to be interested.”
I stiffened but recovered quickly. “You’re right. I’m not his type. I’m Hayes’ type.”
The woman cocked her head to the side with a snarl, her eyes narrowing with the toxic judgment. “Excuse me?” she seethed.
“This is my boyfriend’s apartment,” I clarified plainly. When Hayes had told me about her, I was angry. At her. For him. I told myself if I ever saw her, that anger would consume me. I’d imagined painful heartbeats and my cheeks to be hot with fury.
Yet here she was, invading Hayes’ safe space, and I didn’t feel anger.