Not Looking for Love: Episode 7 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) (5 page)

She finally relaxes after I explain some of that to her, and then I'm left killing time. I could clean some more, maybe do some laundry. But just as I make up my mind to do that, Greg invites himself over.

I'm still too relieved that he's the one calling, and not Mike, to put too much effort into the excuse why he shouldn't come.

"Have you been dodging me these last few days?" Greg asks as he enters, an unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers.
 

"I've just had better things to do, that's all," I say, unable to fight the smile that comes at the thought.

He raises an eyebrow at me, then casts his gaze over the apartment. "Have you been cleaning?"

"I thought it was time," I say, getting the cup he's been using as an ashtray from the dishwasher.

"I see you got rid of all those science projects you've been working on," Greg says and lights his cigarette. He's referring to the dirty plates, cups and dishes that I've kept so long weird things started growing on them. Calling them science projects was what I'd do with my brother Andrew back when I was younger. He never had any patience for it, probably because he fell for it the first time.
 

Greg sits down on the couch and turns on the Xbox. Clearly, he's planning on spending the night.
 

"Amber's coming over in about an hour," I lie, since it's the first excuse I think of.

"You never cleaned for her before," Greg says and the tone of his voice suggest he's not buying it.

"Like I said, it was time," I say and sit down next to him on the couch. "I guess we have enough time for one game."

Greg turns the console off and tosses the controller on the couch between us. "No, your heart wouldn't be in it."

"Heart's got nothing to do with it," I say, aiming to let him know I'm just that much better than him no matter what.

"You wish," he says, his tone suggesting far greater depth, lighting a new cigarette off his old one. I seriously don't know how he's not coughing all the time with the amount he smokes. "I really don't get why you're cleaning up for her."

Does he think I'm in love with Amber? Is this what it's about now?

"The apartment was dirty so I cleaned it. Stop analyzing it," I say and stretch back, like none of this conversation actually matters.

"Fine, you'll tell me in your own good time," he says.
 

I bring my arms forward too quickly, causing a cramp in my back.

Does he know about Gail? Who else knows? But I can't ask.

"Mike says Vlado thinks someone's sabotaging him from inside," I say, mostly to change the subject, but also to find out what Greg knows. I'm still not certain all of it wasn't just more of Mike's bullshit.

Greg goes from grinning to staring at me with a stone cold expression in an instant. "What’d you hear? Did Vlado say who?"

I have no idea whether that’s fear or indignation on Greg's face. But now I at least know that Mike might’ve been telling the truth.

"Mike didn't actually get it from him. That's all I know," I say, searching Greg's face. But except for a slight twitch in his left eye, it's completely frozen.

"I've been hearing the same thing," Greg says. " I think we should all stay low. Vlado can get pretty unpredictable when he gets these suspicions. Even if they're unfounded."

"He does it a lot?" I ask.

"From time to time. It usually ends in murder, sometimes torture," Greg says, his eyes very distant and very hard. "Don't do anything to cross him right now."

“Who’d you get the information from?” I ask. Maybe it’s just rumors.

He looks at me like he’s considering how much to tell me, then shakes his head slightly. “From a reliable source.”

I could pester him to tell me, but I don’t think he would. It hardly matters. In my mind I'm already sitting on a plane to the Middle East with Gail. Though given Vlado's suspicions, that seems like the worst idea right now.
 

Greg stubs his cigarette out sloppily, so it's still smoking when he gets up. "I'll let you get ready."

I kinda want to ask him to stay, tell me more, but by the determined set of his face, I doubt I'd get very far.
 

It's only just after ten, but I'm in the elevator going down within minutes after he leaves. I need to see Gail now. Maybe one of these nights I spend with her, I'll finally figure out what to do.

"You came early," I say rather pointlessly, after we stop kissing, and Scott's just holding me looking so deep into my eyes, I feel him inside me already. The air between us is so charged it's like an explosion is coming. And for some reason I'm equal parts excited and afraid of what it will bring.

I peel his hands away from behind my back and lead him to the window. Below us, First Avenue is packed with cars, and looks like a snake of white and red lights winding into eternity on both ends. I lean into him again to chase away the sudden sensation of falling.

"I spent the day with Mike," he says, and I ignore the painful lurch in my stomach. "And maybe you were right, maybe he just wants us to be friends. But I don't know how I can ever be sure."

"I think he maybe just needs psychiatric help," I say, right over the hope welling in my heart. If they work it out, Scott and me will be safe. But he's right. We can never trust Mike again. I've spoken to Kate about it briefly today, even tried to get some information from Phillipa who should know about such things, seeing as she's almost a certified psychologist, but neither of them had much to say. Kate didn't even know he was out of the psych ward, and Phillipa was pretty blunt about the best course of action being to stay away. But I’m not letting Scott go. I tried that. It didn’t work.
 

"I doubt he'll submit to it willingly," Scott says, gazing off at the thousands of lights of the city flickering before us. But all I see is our reflection, how well we fit together, and I know there has to be a way for us to work this out.

"Maybe we should just run away together," he says. "Somewhere far, like Africa."

I gasp at the suggestion. "At least you're not saying we have to break up anymore. That's a start."

He grins at me sheepishly through his reflection in the window. "Maybe we're past that. But I still think that might be the safest option."

I want to smack him, but I'll never do that again. Instead I just push him away and glare at his face. "How can you still say that? How are you even capable of sending me away all the time? I thought you loved me."

I'm whiny and pouty, but I don't care. Just the thought of him leaving me again hurts beyond words.

"I love you too much to see you get hurt. If I have to let you go to prevent it, I'll do it. Not gladly, or easily, but I'll do it," he explains, that scary endless ocean returning to his eyes, no end and no beginning in sight.

I lean against his chest and hold him tight. "We just have to solve this and that won't be necessary anymore. And if it means going to Africa, I'll go with you."

"Would you?" he asks, the words rumbling through his chest. "Leave everything and go?"

"Yes," I say. And I'm as certain of it as I've ever been of anything in my life. School and career, that can all wait. I need to be with Scott, or my life will have no meaning, and I'll always be just an empty shell. Some people have it easy in love, we don't. It happens that way sometimes, but I'm pretty sure the only way from here is up.

"Well, going to Africa sounded like a real good idea this afternoon," he says slowly. "But now, it could be the worse one yet."

"Why?"
 

"Because the guy I work for suspects someone's trying to bring him down," he explains. "If I run now, he'll just think it was me. And guys like him have really long memories."

I shudder. At least he's telling me stuff now, but it doesn’t mean I want to know these things.

"Can't you just go to the police, give them anonymous information? Or maybe get that detective friend of yours to help?" This is another thing I've been obsessing over.

He cringes, I see it in the reflection from the corner of my eye. "Like I said, a long memory. And me going to jail would kinda be breaking up with you."

"What do we do then?" I ask and push away from him again. I've been cooped up in this hotel room for days now, afraid to even go down to the lobby, and it needs to stop eventually.

His arms are still draped loosely around my shoulders. "I don't know, Gail."
 

"Maybe your boss is right and someone will succeed in bringing him down. Then at least we won't have to worry about him anymore."

He takes a deep breath, and the defeat in his eyes disappears, replaced by what I can only understand as hope. Then it all turns into the darkest anger I've ever seen gleaming from his eyes. "Or maybe I should try and speed it along."

"Nothing dangerous," I warn.
 

"All of it is dangerous," he mutters. "And us right here, that's probably the most dangerous thing."

He grins at me, and I'm forcing my indignation to stay off my face, but probably don't succeed.

"What are you planning to do?"

"The less you know the better, Gail," he says, all serious now.

Tears are suddenly a ball in my throat, pulsing in fear. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll try and fix it," he says. "Somehow. Let's drop it for now."

"Or let's just leave. Tonight." My voice is so small, I feel like I'm barely an inch tall.

"No," he says. "That's not really an option. This has to be faced, and it's better now."

He's so tense, and it sounds like his words are coming through gritted teeth. I know if I push him he'll snap, but this isn't just his life he's talking about, it's mine too.
 

He hugs me again before I can get a single word out, and kisses the top of my head, soft warmth replacing the fear twisting my stomach.
 

"Look, Gail, I promise I won't do anything to make it worse, and that I won't leave you again," he says, stroking my back. "But the less you know, the better."

"You swear?"

"On my mother's grave," he says, and I dare to believe him just a little. "And if I can't fix it, then we'll run away together."

I let him lead me to the bed, but we've both spent the passion for now and all that remains is love. I love the feel of his body against mine, and how I fit so perfectly into it. I love the sound of his heartbeat, the steady whoosh of his breaths, the feel of his fingers entwined with mine. I could stay like this for days, years, and never want for anything else.

"Is there somewhere you can go to be safe?" I ask Gail after waking her up just after four AM. She looks at me through barely opened eyelids, her face still soft from sleep. But I haven't been able to sleep at all. My back is all stiff from lying in the same position for hours, and I need to start doing something, or I'll go insane from just thinking about it all. My last bright idea was going to the Albanians and telling them about Vlado's plan to steal from them. But I don't see that one ending well for anyone. I need to start trying to get out. Else I'll never be able to keep my promises to Gail.