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  Okay, yes Flynn was a billionaire, which meant that he could surely afford it. But I so didn't want to be that person – the clingy relative who couldn't stand on her own two feet.

  Plus, the way I saw it, he'd paid for more than enough already.

  From the passenger's seat, Jack said, "So what's your plan?"

  "I don't know," I admitted. "I'm still working on it."

  "You said he's a psycho? What kind?"

  A vision of the guy's erection flashed in my brain. I couldn’t help but shudder. "You know. The creepy kind."

  Jack's jaw clenched. "Tell me. Did he touch you?"

  Heat flooded my face. "No. It wasn't like that. I just mean…" How to put this? "He's not shy about showing himself."

  "So he flashed you."

  "I guess." I bit my lip. "No, wait. That's not really fair." With a resigned sigh, I continued. "Basically, I came out of my bedroom, and he was in the kitchen. And he, uh, wasn't fully dressed."

  "So he was naked."

  My face was burning now. "Sort of. I mean, he was wearing a robe, but nothing else. And the robe was open, and he was, well…excited, I guess." Trying hard to be fair, I added, "Of course, he might've thought I was asleep."

  "So?"

  "So I just mean, that might explain why he wasn't careful."

  "So this robe," Jack said. "Did he shut it after?"

  "You mean after he saw me." I shook my head. "No. He didn't." In fact, he'd opened it wider, but that hardly seemed worth mentioning.

  When Jack spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. "Anything else?"

  "Well…" I hesitated. "He's been, um, moaning outside my bedroom door."

  "Moaning," Jack repeated.

  "Yeah. Like a ghost or maybe…" I forced a laugh. "…something more intimate."

  Sometimes, when my imagination got the best of me, I envisioned Nicky pleasuring himself in the hall. But other times, I told myself that he was just messing with me as some sort of revenge for my reaction the other night.

  Either way, this had become a total nightmare.

  After a long pause, Jack said, "Anything else?"

  "Uh, yeah. I think he's stealing from me." As Jack listened, I explained about the missing money – omitting the fact that I'd been storing the cash between the pages of Jack's latest best-seller.

  Talk about ironic.

  When I finished, Jack gave me a long, penetrating look. "What else?"

  "What makes you think there is anything else?"

  Jack studied my face. "Call it a hunch."

  I hesitated. "All right. The thing is, he talks really loud on the phone, and sometimes, the things I overhear aren't so great."

  "Like what?"

  I tried to shrug it off. "Just stuff about his past, that's all."

  My face was still burning, and my palms were sweaty. I hadn't meant to tell Jack anything at all. And yet, irritation aside, it had felt surprisingly comforting to tell someone what was going on.

  I mean, who knows? He might have some idea of what I could do.

  Turns out, he didn't.

  And why? It was because for whatever reason, he decided that it wouldn't be me handling it.

  Chapter 6

  Becka

  With his gaze still on the condo, Jack said, "Wait here."

  I blinked. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, wait in the car."

  "For what?"

  "For me to have a talk with him."

  I was staring now. "Who? Nicky?"

  "If that's the name of your roommate." And with that, Jack reached for the door handle.

  "Wait!"

  Jack turned back to me and said, "For what?"

  "Well, don't you think we should discuss this?"

  "We already did."

  "But why should you do anything?"

  He gave me a hard look. "Better me than you."

  If only that were true. "But it's not your problem," I said. "It's my problem." I lifted my chin. "And I'm sure I'll solve it just fine. I mean, it's really not that big of a deal."

  He made no reply, but his look said it all. You're so full of it.

  Yes. I was.

  But having him deal with it seemed wrong on so many levels. For one thing, I barely knew him. Why would he go to any trouble on my account?

  Was it because of his friendship with Flynn?

  That had to be it.

  Still, I hated the thought of him fighting my battles. In fact, I hated the thought of anyone fighting my battles. This wasn't his mess to clean up. It was mine.

  And yet, I heard myself say, "I just mean…." I bit my lip. "What are you gonna do?"

  "That depends," he said.

  "On what?"

  "What he does."

  "But he could be dangerous," I warned.

  Jack gave a low scoff. "Doubt it."

  I gave him a serious look. "Yeah, well for your information, he was in prison." Even though we were alone, I lowered my voice. "Maximum security."

  At this, Jack had the nerve to laugh. "Yeah, right."

  He had a nice laugh, full and warm – and oddly comforting. Still, it annoyed the snot out of me. Didn't he know? This was no laughing matter. "What, you don't believe me?"

  "Oh, I believe you," he said. "But him? Not a chance."

  "So you think he's lying?" I gave Jack another serious look. "Well, for your information, he wasn't."

  "And you know this, how?"

  "Because when he said it, he wasn't even talking to me." I paused. "I just happened to overhear, that's all."

  Jack gave me a dubious look. "Uh-huh."

  "I did," I insisted. "But it wasn't my fault. He was talking really loud."

  Jack gave another scoff. "Now that, I believe."

  Comforting or not, his confidence grated on me. It was like he thought he knew more about Nicky than I did.

  I felt compelled to point out the obvious. "But you've never even met him."

  "True." Jack gave me the cockiest smile I'd ever seen. "And he's never met me."

  Cocky or not, the smile did funny things to my stomach – annoying things that had nothing to do with the fact that I hadn't eaten all day. I asked, "What does that mean?"

  Ignoring my question, he reached yet again for the door handle.

  Again, I blurted out, "Wait!" When Jack stopped to look, I said, "You don't have to do this. You know that, right?"

  He gave me a look. "You done?"

  "No." I straightened in my seat. "Because I'm coming with you."

  Based on his attitude so far, I half expected him to argue. But he didn't. Instead, he gave a slow nod and said, "Backup. I like it."

  I felt my gaze narrow. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

  "Pretty much." And with that, he opened his car door, leaving me to follow – or not.

  By the time we reached the front door, I was a trembling, nervous wreck. As I pulled out my keys, I said, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "Hell yeah. It'll be fun."

  I stopped to stare up at him. "I'm serious."

  "So am I."

  I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. The way it looked, he actually meant it. And suddenly, I didn't know who was crazier – my psycho roommate or the guy who was planning to – well, I didn't know what exactly.

  But the way it looked, I was about to find out.

  Chapter 7

  Jack

  The guy was playing her. I'd bet his life on it.

  Why he was doing it, I didn't know. But I'd find out soon enough.

  And then, I'd deal with it.

  Next to me, Becka whispered, "I don't think he's home." We were standing in the condo's living room, a few paces away from the front door. It was the same door we'd used less than a minute ago after Becka had pulled out her key.

  As if I'd need a key to get in.

  Still, I'd stepped aside and let her go through the motions, figuring it was better to play along than to get her thinking.

  As far as the ro
ommate, she was right. The guy had left twenty minutes earlier, slipping out the back while Becka had been watching the front.

  I'd seen him do it.

  I'd also seen him hop into a silver sports car – one that had been parked along a neighboring street. The guy had driven off smiling like he'd just screwed the neighbor's cat and gotten away with it.

  Asshole.

  Still, the guy was no hardened criminal. I could tell that just by looking at him – skinny arms, tight pants, and eyes that saw nothing that wasn't directly in front of him.

  He hadn't even known I'd been watching.

  Dumb-ass.

  I looked to Becka and said, "Let's make sure."

  She glanced around before whispering, "What do you mean?"

  I might've told her that whispering was a waste, but the truth was, it was cute as hell. And so was she.

  Her eyes were green, and her lashes were long – the real deal, nothing fake about them. Her hair was brown with flecks of gold, and her body was tight and sweet with soft curves in all the right places.

  As far as her personality, she was a stubborn pain in the ass who was obviously too impulsive for her own good.

  Still, I might've liked her if I were inclined to like anyone, which I wasn't.

  It didn't matter. She was strictly off-limits.

  She was the little sister of Flynn's fiancée, which meant that in a roundabout way, she was Flynn's sister, too – or would be after the wedding.

  Girls came and went. But a strong friendship, that was permanent – which meant I'd be smart to keep my hands and thoughts to myself. No drama. No complications. No losing a friend when things went South.

  I flicked my head toward the rear of the house. "First we'll check his bedroom."

  She glanced toward the farthest door on the right. "Do you really think we should?"

  "Why not?"

  "It just seems kind of risky." She bit her lip. "Like, what if he's sleeping?"

  "Then I'll wake him up."

  With a nervous smile, she said, "You're joking, right?"

  "No joke," I said. "But if you want, you can wait here."

  "But…" She hesitated. "I'm just saying, that's a little invasive, don't you think?"

  I gave her a good, long look. "Compared to what?"

  "What do you mean?"

  I considered everything she'd told me in the car. "Is it more invasive than what he's been doing to you?" My voice was steady, but my thoughts weren't.

  Yeah, Becka wasn't my sister, but the guy had stepped way out of line. And Flynn was out of town, which meant that it was up to me to make things right.

  Becka sighed. "I get your point, but it's not like he actually touched me or anything. And even that thing in the kitchen, maybe it was just…I dunno…bad timing on my part."

  Bad timing, my ass. I said, "And the noises?"

  "Maybe he was just joking around." She glanced toward the guy's bedroom. "And who knows? Maybe I'm making too much of it."

  "Or maybe the guy's an asshole."

  "Yeah, but even if he is, there's no law against that, is there?"

  No. There wasn't.

  Good thing for me.

  I smiled. "But we're not the law, are we?" As I said it, I began striding down the hallway.

  She hustled to keep up. "But wait, I'm still not sure–"

  "Don't worry. I am."

  One twist of the knob, and the door was open. No lock. No nothing. The guy really was a dumb-ass. And disorganized, too. Silently, I scanned the cluttered space, taking in the discarded clothes, the empty beer bottles, and a single jar of grape jelly sitting on the night stand.

  Now that was interesting.

  From beside me, Becka said, "Yikes. No wonder he keeps it shut."

  I was still scanning the room. "And he's been living here for how long?"

  Becka paused as if thinking. "I'm not sure. I just met him like five days ago."

  What the hell? I turned to study her face. "You serious?"

  She drew back. "What's that look for?"

  "You moved in with a guy you don't even know?"

  "Hey!" she said. "It's not like I knew it was a guy."

  My gaze locked on hers. "You're not making it better."

  "I don't need to 'make it better'," she said. "And I don't want to be rude or anything, but this really is none of your business."

  "You sure about that?"

  At this, a slow blush crept up her cheeks. "Just because I accepted your help, that doesn't mean you can act like I’m stupid or something."

  She was missing my point. "Did I call you stupid?"

  "No. But you're acting like I am."

  "Yeah, well, you said it, not me." The truth was, if she were my sister, I'd be giving her an earful. But I had no sisters, including her. So I kept my mouth shut and made a mental note to tell Flynn that he was slacking in the brother department.

  Becka sighed. "All right, fine. You want the truth? I'm just subletting the place – or half of it, I guess – from this girl I met in psych class."

  "And you've known her for how long?"

  "At least a semester," she said.

  "That long, huh?"

  "Yeah, point taken," she said, not looking too happy about it. "But about the condo, she said there was this roommate named Nicky who was really…" Becka made air quotes. "…'fun' and 'friendly.'"

  "Right." If the guy had been any friendlier, I'd be having some fun of my own, beating him senseless. "That's one way to put it."

  "No kidding," she said. "But anyway, Tara – that's her name – swore up and down that Nicky and I would really hit it off."

  If I had a sister, there's no way in hell I would've let such a thing happen. In the back of my mind, I had to wonder, where the hell was Flynn in all of this? He should've been doing a better job of looking out for her.

  She was still explaining. "And by the time I realized that Nicky was short for Nicholas – and not Nicole – it was too late."

  "Too late for what?" I asked.

  "To get out of the deal."

  Not the way I saw things. "It's never too late."

  "Oh yeah?" She crossed her arms. "Well, it is if you've already paid."

  "You mean the rent?"

  She nodded. "Three whole months. In advance, too."

  Again, I thought of Flynn. The guy was loaded. He could wipe his ass with the cost of the whole city block and never miss a dime. Why was Becka worrying about the rent?

  "Wait here," I said, heading into the guy's bedroom.

  From the open doorway, Becka said, "But wait, shouldn't I—"

  "Keep an eye out? Yeah, good idea." I didn't need a lookout, but I didn't need her trailing after me either.

  As I took a closer look around, I asked a few more questions. In reply, Becka explained that the girl who'd rented her the condo was off on some college internship in Chicago, which is why the place had been available for the summer.

  I wasn't buying it.

  As Becka watched from the open doorway, I rifled through the guy's dresser drawers and then searched through his closet – keeping half an eye on Becka as I worked. From the look on her face, she wasn't liking any of this.

  Too bad. Sometimes things need doing. And this was one of those times.

  I finished by looking under the guy's bed and then between his mattresses. From start to finish, the entire process took me less than ten minutes.

  I was just shoving the top mattress back in place when Becka said, "This is so wrong."

  Maybe. But it wasn't nearly as wrong as what he'd been doing to her. The way I saw it, the guy was getting off light. So far.

  When I made no reply, she said, "Seriously, we should stop."

  I moved away from the bed. "All right."

  She blinked. "Really?"

  "Sure." I headed toward the doorway. "Whatever you say."

  Her eyes narrowed. "You're only saying that because you're done, aren't you?"

  "You could say that."


  "It figures." She was quiet for a long moment before asking, "So… did you find anything?"

  During my search, I'd revealed nothing and offered up no commentary. Now I eyed Becka with reluctant amusement. "What happened to 'This is so wrong'?"

  "Well…" She shrugged. "If you know, I should know too, right?"

  "Maybe," I said. "But first, I need you to do something."

  "What?"

  "Move your car."

  Chapter 8

  Becka

  An hour later, I was sitting in the condo's living room with Jack. The room was dark and quiet, leaving me feeling unsettled for reasons that had nothing to do with my creepy roommate – who still hadn't returned from who-knows-where.

  I was perched on the edge of the couch while Jack occupied the easy-chair across from me. It was a funny choice, considering that there was nothing easy about him or his demeanor.

  His gaze was hard, and his jaw was tight. Just before sitting down, he'd turned the chair so it faced the front door, which meant that I had all the time in the world to study his profile through the shadows.

  This should've been boring. But it wasn't. His profile was very fine, just like the rest of him. His legs were long, and his muscular arms were so defined, I swear, I could see hints of their lines and ridges, even in the near darkness.

  But all of that was just a distraction.

  Not only was he not telling me anything I needed to know, he'd continued to scoff at my insistence that I could handle this on my own. The last time I'd mentioned it, he'd told me – and I quote – "Sorry, not gonna happen."

  But he hadn't sounded sorry, not even when I'd suggested that all of this was taking way too long. Afterward, I'd gone on to remind him that he had someone waiting for him – a scantily clad someone, not that I'd mentioned that part.

  But Jack wasn't budging. And he still wasn't telling me squat.

  For what felt like the millionth time, I said, "So, are you gonna tell me what you found in his bedroom?"

  "Yeah, but not now."

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Plausible deniability."

  "What?"

  "If you're asked, you can say you don't know."

  I made a sound of frustration. "If I'm asked by who?"

  "Whoever."

  "But you promised to tell me."

  "Yeah. And I will."

  "When?" I asked.