Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1) (40 page)

“Everyone will live,” was all he could say.

“That’s great news,” she said quietly, clutching his hand in hers with a wide smile. Noah was noncommittal. “Are you okay?”

He repeated her question to himself before he trusted himself enough to grind out, “No.”

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Whose fault is it?”

A hush fell over the car.

“Whose fault is it, Noah?” she repeated.

“Zach, take us home.”

His cool hand slipped from hers.

As soon as they entered the condo, Noah headed for his office without a backward glance at Avi, while she lingered in the foyer, questioning what was going on.

To give herself something to do while she waited for Noah, she hung out in the kitchen. Her bag sat in the middle of the countertop with the top of the envelope peeking out. Should she look at what the detective had given to her? She filled her empty glass with water from the refrigerator then debated what to do.
How lightly should I tread?
Noah had just witnessed his friend getting shot.

But as the hours dragged on, one of her legs bounced with impatience and her curiosity got the better of her. She pulled the envelope from her bag. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous all of a sudden. To her ears, loosening the fasteners and whisking out the papers made noises that could rival a thunderstorm.

With each word she read, her eyes widened and fear seized her. She was no longer fidgety; she squinted at every paragraph, sometimes rereading slowly, just so she understood what was being conveyed. By the last word on the last page, she knew she needed answers, and right away. She stumbled from the chair, her legs weak from shock, but broke her fall by holding onto Noah’s marble kitchen island.

Her sight snagged on the luxury around her. How exactly was he able to afford all of
this
? Standing, she frowned. Nothing was adding up.

“Make it happen,” Noah said.

His voice pulled Avi’s attention to his imposing shadow. She cleared her throat in case the low light in his kitchen completely hid her from his view.

When he raised his head, she almost believed he was relieved to see her, but then he became immersed in his conversation again. He turned back around, his footsteps reverberating down the corridor toward his office.

Avi was hot on his heels with the envelope that was stacked with questions she and various law enforcement agencies had about Noah and Harry.

As if he knew she’d follow him, Noah had left his office door open. By the time she entered fully, he was facing the window. “Now is not a good time, Avi.”

She threw everything in her hands on his desk.

He heard the
thunk
sound behind him.

Light from the full moon cast a glow into the office. He wondered if the superstitions about full moons inducing madness were true. He felt on the verge of it; it crawled over his skin and whispered violence. He was either going mad, or just mad for revenge.

“Noah?”

He turned around.

Avi stood in front of his desk, arms akimbo, stare steady, and hair wild, as if she’d been dragging her fingers through the strands too harshly. Her chest heaved. She was a beauty, even in her anger.

The envelope’s bright color stood out like a sore thumb on his sparse cherry wood desk.

“Yes?” he said, approaching his desk.

He still had a million things to do, and not enough time to do everything.

Her lips pursed. Maybe she heard the harshness in his tone, but he couldn’t worry about her tender feelings. Outside the club, he hadn’t allowed himself to feel anything, but as soon as he saw Avi in his kitchen, he realized that had the shooter aimed differently, Avi would be in the hospital or worse. It was that concern...hell, it was more like
fear
that had him spin around as soon as he saw her. He was about to break, and couldn’t let her see him as anything but a man with strength.

“We need to talk.”

He was pulled from his musings by her sharp voice, but now wasn’t the time to show weakness. “Like I said, this isn’t a good time.” Noah stood rigid. He had no patience to deal with whatever was brewing in her mind.

“Well, make time. I’m here about that.” She glanced down at the envelope.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

The packet was thick. She took a seat. He slid the envelope toward himself. From the papers sticking out, he read words like: under investigation and alleged criminal activities. He leaned forward, flipping the light switch on the desk lamp, and then perched his hip on the desk. Each page had condemning charges against him and Harry.

It was at least another thirty minutes before he spoke up again. “Who gave this to you?”

She sat back while he meticulously compiled the papers then pushed them to the side. Butterflies floated in her lower stomach; she was queasy and had cotton-mouth.

“Is it true?”

“Who gave this to you?” he asked again.

“Is it true, Noah?” she hissed.

“Would it matter?”

She stood, too anxious to remain in one spot.
Would it matter?
She couldn’t believe he could ask her that. “Of course it matters. It matters if my father is...was a dirty cop. Of course it matters if my boyf—I mean, if you’re a damn criminal, Noah. Am I sleeping with a man who...” She couldn’t call him all those things the reports claimed he did.

She paced back and forth. His lackadaisical attitude over the charges in the documents about his lawlessness stalled her movements.

Who the hell is Noah Adams?

She worried her lower lip, and to give herself something to do, she resumed her pacing while her heart hammered away.

He returned to his position, facing the window.

“Noah, you have to tell me something here. Please.” Avi despised the desperation creeping into her tone, but there was no help for it. Her heart and her life were at stake.

“What’s there to tell? If what you’ve read and seen inside the envelope weighs more than everything I’ve told you about myself and your father, then...”

“Then what?” She threw her hands up in the air. “This isn’t a game. You’re standing over there looking as if I’m keeping you from something more important.”

“As a matter of fact, you are.” He spun around.

Her gasp was expected; the papers he’d just piled together that sailed past his head and floated in the air weren’t.

He cocked a brow at hellion Avi.
“You want honesty, right?”

She looked at him as if he had two heads.

“Here’s the truth. I’ve got shit to do, more important than entertaining this fucking line of bullshit questioning, but I’m not doing any of what needs to get done. I’m here. With you. Answering bullshit.” He huffed, jamming his hands in his pockets.

She wobbled back as if he’d hit her.

“Are those things about my father true?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. What part of the man I told you about hinted he was a bad apple? NYPD has far more people they need to look at, rather than waste taxpayers’ dollars on foolishness.”

Her skepticism was evident in her raised eyebrow. “I-is it true about you?”

He tapped on a stray paper. “This piece of shit barely scratches the surface.”

Noah’s laugh was without mirth. This was her time to make a choice. He’d barged his way into her life and her bed. He’d chiseled through her icy reserve and gotten her to talk about her mother. But now, she’d make her own choice.

He flicked the papers away from him.

“Are you saying—”

“You’re a smart woman.” He glanced at his vibrating cell. “Are we done here?”

His double entendre rang out in the room.

She gasped at his admission.

The pit of her stomach nagged her with the questions she’s always had about him and his friends. The air of respect that swirled around them wherever they went. The undercurrent of fear she sensed when Zach and others were in Noah’s presence.

A part of Avi’s brain wanted to give Noah an out, and so she did. “Bu-but you’re legit now, right? Your company, Accipiere, it’s an import and export company.”

At his silence, she spun toward the open door within her reach. All she’d have to do was walk away from the man who made her laugh, infuriated her no end, and pleasured her body like no other.