His mouth twitched. “That’s all you had to say?”
“Hey, I’m a photographer, not an editor.”
“I thought you were a web designer.”
Her lips parted, closed.
He smiled. “Maybe you’re already making more changes than you think.”
She let out a breath. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
Finn stepped around the bed and held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
She was confused for a second, her brain running on too much adrenaline and too little sleep, but eventually his request registered. She reached into her bag to pull out her cell.
He took it from her, typed a few things, and then handed it back to her. “You can always call me, Livvy. For anything.”
She took her phone back, her hope sinking a bit. “Right. Thanks.”
He kissed the top of her head and then grabbed his stuff. “I’m going to get out of your way so you can shower and rest. If you need anything before breakfast, give me a holler.”
“Thanks.”
He stepped out into the hallway without a backward glance and headed to the room they’d left, obviously more than a little eager to get the hell away from her. She didn’t blame him. She’d apparently become the queen of awkward conversation tonight.
With a sigh, she locked her door and made her way over to the bed and collapsed onto it. Spent. Exhausted. And a little frustrated.
Finn had taken her words to mean she wanted someone to call when she needed help, but she wasn’t in the market for a therapist or a savior. She was in the market for a friend.
But maybe she was grasping for something that didn’t exist with Finn anymore. Maybe she was just being nostalgic. They weren’t in high school. They didn’t live in the same place. They couldn’t just hang out. The time for that had passed. She needed to be okay with that.
If he wasn’t interested in keeping in touch, she wasn’t going to chase him.
She checked the time on her phone to see how many hours she needed to kill before breakfast. But instead of seeing the time, she saw the address book entry Finn had made.
His phone number.
Filed under Batman.
And a note beneath: You will never be a stranger to me.
chapter
SEVEN
Finn slung his computer bag over his shoulder and rolled his suitcase toward the front desk so he could drop off his key card. The early-morning sun squeezed through the blinds of the hotel’s windows, and the smell of cheap coffee wafted down the hallway. His mouth watered at the scent. Cheap caffeine was still better than no caffeine. But he didn’t have time to visit the continental breakfast. He’d already cut it close enough, lingering a little longer than planned to make sure Liv didn’t call and need anything.
He hadn’t really expected her to reach out. Even if she did need help, she’d be too stubborn to admit it. He’d seen the look on her face when he’d told her she could call him if she needed him. He hadn’t meant it to sound like charity, but he also didn’t have anything else to offer. He didn’t know how to be someone’s friend beyond that anymore. Plus, he’d be undercover again in a few months, so why bother?
He peered around the corner at the end of the hallway to eye the setup of tables and chairs in the breakfast area. Only one table was taken—an elderly man eating pastries and reading the newspaper. Finn let out a breath and headed to the front desk. The night manager was still on duty, face in his phone, scrolling through something and completely ignoring Finn.
Finn cleared his throat. “Checking out of 348. Just charge the amount to the card on file.”
The guy looked up and then frowned when he recognized Finn. “What about the door? My boss—”
“Put that on there, too, when you get it fixed.” Finn tossed the key card on the counter.
“Cool.” The guy took the key and went about printing the receipt, but his attention stayed on Finn. “What about that lady? Is she all right? I mean, she looked pretty freaked out last night. Is it because—”
“She’s fine.” Finn’s fist curled at his side. If the kid had been asking about Liv out of concern, that’d be one thing, but Finn had been reading people long enough to recognize morbid curiosity masking as kindness.
“I went to the same high school, you know?” the kid said, as if Finn had given some indication he wanted to engage in conversation. “Different name, obviously, but it weirded me out every time I passed the remembrance garden. I can’t imagine—”
“Forget it.” Finn grabbed his bag. “I don’t need a receipt.”
The last thing he had time for was this kid’s gawking. But before he could turn and get the hell out of there, a soft voice hit him in the back.
“Finn?”
The familiar sound of her saying his name made him wince. “Shit.”
Desk Guy’s eyebrows went up at Finn’s under-the-breath curse.
Finn sent him a warning look and then turned to find Liv staring at him with questioning eyes. “Uh, morning,” he said, none too gracefully. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah, I never went back to sleep. I figured I’d get some work done.” Her gaze shifted to the bag over his shoulder and the suitcase. “You’re leaving?”
“Just checked out,” Desk Guy offered. “He’s going to take care of the door for you, ma’am, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
Finn gritted his teeth and shot a look over his shoulder at Mr. Helpful. When he turned back to Liv, she still had the Care to explain yourself? head tilt. Finn sighed. “Let’s grab a table.”
Frown lines bracketed her mouth. “Yeah, okay. I already have one by the window. Come on.”
She led him to a table a few to the right of the elderly man. Her laptop was open, and a cup of coffee sat next to it. She’d probably been away from her table when he’d glanced that way the first time. Plus, in her business suit and heels, her sleek silhouette was something altogether different from the casual version he’d seen last night. Some undercover agent he was.
She leaned over to click a few things on her keyboard and then shut her laptop with a tired sigh.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your work,” he said, his tone gruffer than he’d planned.
She shook her head and sat. “It’s fine. It’s not something I’m going to have time to fix this morning anyway. I should’ve never opened my email.”
She indicated the chair across from her. Finn took a seat and ran a hand over the back of his head, trying to decide what to say and how to say it. Getting out before everyone woke up had seemed like a good idea at the time.
She stared at him, her eyes tired but her lips smirking. “We didn’t sleep together, you know. You don’t have to wear the morning-after, got-caught-sneaking-out look.”
“I’m very aware we didn’t sleep together.” Painfully aware as he let his attention sweep over her. She’d pulled her hair into a low knot at her nape and had lined her eyes dark and glossed her lips red, making her look like a 1950s pinup version of herself. Gone was the vulnerable woman from last night. In her place was a confident, beautiful businesswoman. Liv had her armor on.
Her brows quirked as she sipped her coffee. “So what’s with the cloak-and-dagger routine?”
“There’s no cloak or dagger,” he said, guilt washing through him. “I just—”
“Would rather take a fork to the eye than have breakfast with four old classmates?” She sat back in her chair with a knowing look. Feisty. Ball-busting. That was the girl he remembered.
His attention strayed to how her white-collared shirt gaped, revealing the smooth expanse of her throat, the curve of her neck—the neck he’d almost kissed last night.
He grimaced. Focus, man. “Being social really isn’t my thing. I wouldn’t be good company.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, setting down
her coffee. “When I knew you, you could talk to anyone—would’ve been happy to hold court with four women.”
He grabbed her coffee and took a swig. “Yeah, well, people change.”
He could still hold court when he needed to, slather on the charm and bullshit, but now it was a role, a game, a way to get people to trust him with their secrets. He didn’t know how to be genuine about it anymore and didn’t want to go to breakfast and fake it.
“So I’m learning,” she said, glancing at her cup. “You know, stealing a woman’s coffee this early in the morning is grounds for a beating.”
He smiled and sipped again, keeping his eyes on her. “Worth it. But I’ll make sure to get you more before I leave.”
“So what exactly does leaving entail? I forgot to ask you where you…” Her words drifted off as her attention shifted to a spot over his shoulder, her brow furrowing.
“Liv?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What the hell is he doing?”
“Who?” Finn glanced back to whatever had caught her attention. Front Desk Guy was looking their way from the other side of the breakfast bar, his phone lifted but half hidden between a display of mini cereal boxes and a juice dispenser. Even from a few tables away, Finn heard the faint click of the camera phone. Every muscle in his body tensed.
“Hey!” Liv barked. “Is that shithead taking our picture?”
Finn was already in motion, the chair falling backward behind him as he jumped to his feet and stalked across the room. The guy’s eyes widened at Finn’s approach, and he quickly swung his arm around, tucking his phone in his back pocket.
Finn didn’t slow down. Red edged his vision, the snap of the camera playing over and over in his head. He had nightmarish memories laced with that sound. All the cameras in his face. All the questions. No secrets, no privacy. All the false accolades. He stepped around the breakfast bar and crowded the guy. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The guy lifted his hands, his blue eyes full of faux innocence. “What’s your problem, dude? I was taking pics of the food.”
“Because cereal boxes are so interesting?”
“Maybe they are.”
“You were taking our picture.” Finn took another menacing step forward, making the guy back up against the wall. “Give me your phone.”
“Screw you, man. It’s my property. And a free country. I can take a picture.”
Finn growled. “Give. Me. Your. Phone.”
The kid swallowed hard. “What’s the big secret? Cheating on your wife or something? Or don’t want the world to know you’ve got issues?”
Finn grabbed the front of the kid’s shirt and shoved him hard against the wall, fury coursing through him. The guy’s breath popped out of him, the impact rattling the nearby pastry table.
“Finn.” Liv called out somewhere behind him, but it was just background noise. He needed that phone. His photo couldn’t be released. But more than that, how dare this piece of shit think it was his right to invade their privacy? To take their photo like they were fucking zoo animals?
“Get your hands off me,” the guy said, trying to break the grip.
“Not until you give me your phone.”
“Fuck you.”
Finn grabbed for the phone, and the guy tried to take a swing at him, but Finn was too quick and too well trained. Instinct took over. He ducked and swung at the guy’s unprotected side, landing the punch in his gut and bringing him to his knees.
“Finn! Stop!” Liv was shouting now, but he was moving too fast.
He knocked the kid onto his belly and put a knee in his back, ripping the phone from his pocket.
“Why were you taking pictures?” Finn demanded, keeping the guy pinned. “Did someone put you up to it?”
“No, man.”
Liv grabbed at Finn’s shirt. “Please. Let him go.”
Finn couldn’t process her plea. All he could hear was that damn snapping camera, the shouting voices, all the people vying for a sound bite, a candid photo, a glimpse of a tragedy that wasn’t theirs.
Finn pushed the guy’s cheek into the carpet. “How can I believe you, you piece of shit?”
* * *
Liv yanked at Finn’s shirt, frantic and feeling helpless at the immovable force of Finn’s wrath. He was going to demolish the kid if he didn’t stop. The older man who’d been a few tables over from her was standing off to the side, phone to his ear, no doubt calling the police. But Finn was in some sort of zone. She’d never seen him like this. Scary. Out of control.
Deadly.
He shoved the guy’s face against the rough carpet, demanding more answers, and she looked around for something—anything—that could help. Her yelling wasn’t working. She didn’t exist to him right now. When she spotted the pitcher of ice water, she ran over and grabbed it. As Finn was pulling the guy’s head up by his hair, she dumped it over them both. Ice and water spilled everywhere, earning her a string of curses from the two men.
But it got Finn to turn his head. When his gaze met hers, it was as icy as the water dripping down his face—steely and cutting through her like a winter chill. Mean.
Goose bumps chased over her skin.
“Finn,” she said, putting every ounce of command she possessed into her voice. “Stop. You’ve got the phone. He’s just a dumb kid.”
He stared at her for a long moment, fury burning in his eyes, but then finally he blinked, her words seeming to register. He glanced back at the manager, who was whimpering now, and abruptly let go, as if the kid’s hair had burned him.
Finn climbed off him and sat back on his knees, the phone in his hand. “Shit.”
Liv let out a breath and hurried over to the guy. He rolled over onto his back, panting hard, his face blotchy. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I think that crazy fucker broke my rib.”
She winced. “Okay, just lie here. I think someone called for help.”
Finn was still where she’d left him. He’d set the phone down in front of him and had his hands laced behind his neck, breathing hard.
Sirens blared outside, and Liv’s heart picked up speed. She took a breath, willing the panic away. She’d gotten used to sirens in the city, but for some reason, they sounded different here. Too familiar. She didn’t have time to freak out, though, because Finn was going to need her to do some fast talking.
But when the two cops walked in, Finn didn’t give her the chance. She thought he’d explain that he was a cop or tell them what the guy had done to set him off. Instead, he stood, still dripping wet, and put his hands up. “Just take me to the station. I don’t want to discuss anything here.”
Even though he was going willingly, one of the cops insisted he be cuffed. Finn turned and put his hands in position without protest. When the cuffs snapped shut, he finally looked her way, resignation there. “I’m sorry. Just go to breakfast. I’ll handle this.”
“Finn—”
The officer turned to lead him out before Liv could say anything else.
“The hell you will,” she said under her breath as she grabbed the kid’s abandoned phone. She’d just seen what Finn handling things looked like. With renewed resolve, she stalked over to the table where he’d left his bags and keys. She grabbed all of it, along with her own things, and eyed the kid—Adam.
The other officer had spoken with him, and now he was slumped in a chair, holding his side, while the officer interviewed the older man. Liv made her way over to the kid as she opened his phone. Sure enough, he had a number of close-ups of her, the back of Finn’s head, and a picture of the broken door from last night. She deleted them as she went, but then an Any luck? text popped up, opening an excited text trail between him and what she guessed was his girlfriend, detailing the events of last night.
Adam: I don’t know which one she is,
but she was totally freaked out
Claire: Srsly? Still?
Adam: Inorite? Like 10 yrs have passed & they’re still messed up
Claire: Sad. Would make a great story. Can u get me pics? Confirm which ones they are?
Adam: What do I get in return? ;)
A string of sexual promises and suggestive emojis followed.
Ugh. Liv wanted to kick the guy herself. But even with this, he hadn’t deserved a beating from Finn.
Adam looked up, his jaw tight. “Give me my phone back. That’s private.”
“Private? I wasn’t aware you were familiar with the concept.”
He put out his hand. “Your whackjob boyfriend better not have broken it.”
Liv’s teeth clamped together. She glanced at the other cop, making sure she was still occupied with her interview, and then crouched down next to Adam’s chair. From a distance, her posture would look like she was making sure he was okay, but the words that were about to come out of her mouth were nothing of the sort. She pressed his phone into his hand, and when he grabbed it, she gripped his hand hard and pinned him with a stare.
“Now you listen to me, you smug little shit. I’m sorry that you’re hurt, but you don’t get to slap labels on us like you know us. You don’t get to take pictures like we’re some sideshow attraction. You think you know what’s what, but you have no idea. That cute little girlfriend you’re sending eggplant emojis to? Yeah, imagine if you’d taken her to prom, and while you were dancing, her brain got blown up with a bullet in front of you.”
His mouth went slack.
“Imagine if along with that, all your closest friends, the people you cared about, ended up dead, too, bleeding out on the floor around you. Oh, and maybe you got a gun pressed to your head, and you had to beg for your life. Then imagine years later someone photographing you because—wow, cool, someone who was in the news. And man, aren’t they screwed up? Ha-ha.”