Chapter-5, part-2

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My heart rate ticked up. The familiar noose around my neck

tightened.

I

squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on a different day, a

different memory—that of me attending my first Krav Maga lesson

at sixteen—until the red stains of my past retreated.

When I opened them again, anger and worry coalesced into a

block in my stomach, and I didn’t bother changing out of my

training clothes before I exited the center and took off for Ava’s

house.

“You better be there,” I muttered. I blocked and flipped off a

Mercedes who tried to cut in front of me at Dupont Circle. The

driver, an overgroomed lawyer type, glared at me, but I didn’t give

a shit.

If you can’t drive, get off the road.

By the time I arrived at Ava’s place, I still hadn’t received a

reply, and a muscle pulsed dangerously in my temple.

If she was ignoring me, she was in deep shit.

And if she was hurt, I would bury the person responsible six

feet beneath the ground. In pieces.

“Where is she?” I dispensed of the usual greetings when Jules

swung open the door.

“Who?” she asked, all doe-eyed innocence. I wasn’t fooled.

Jules Ambrose was one of the most dangerous women I’d ever

met, and anyone who thought otherwise because of the way she

looked and flirted was an idiot.

“Ava,” I growled. “She’s not answering her phone.”

“Maybe she’s busy.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Jules. She could be in trouble, and I know

your boss. Wouldn’t take much more than a word from me to

derail your internship.”

I’d done my research on all of Ava’s closest friends. Jules was

pre-law, and the internship between a student’s junior and senior

years was critical for admittance into a competitive law school.

All traces of flirty coquettishness melted. Jules narrowed her

eyes. “Don’t threaten me.”

“Don’t play games.”

We glared at each other for a minute, precious seconds ticking

by before she relented. “She’s not in trouble, okay? She’s with a

friend. Like I said, she’s probably busy. She’s not glued to her

phone.”

“Address.”

“You’re hot, but you can be a real overbearing asshole.”

“Address.”

Jules huffed out a sigh. “I’m only telling you if I can go with

you. To make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

I was already halfway to my car.

Five minutes later, we were speeding back to D.C. I was going

to bill Josh for all my gas expenses when he returned, just out of

spite.

“Why are you so concerned? Ava has her own life, and she’s

not a dog. She doesn’t have to jump every time you say fetch.”

Jules flipped down the visor mirror and retouched her lipstick

when we stopped at a red light.

“For someone who claims to be her best friend, you’re not

concerned enough .” Irritation coiled in my stomach. “When have

you known her not to reply within minutes of receiving a text or a

call?”

“Uh, when she’s in the bathroom. Class. Work. Sleeping.

Showering. A photo—”

“It’s been almost an hour,” I snapped.

Jules shrugged. “Maybe she’s having sex.”

A muscle jumped in my jaw. I wasn’t sure which version of

Jules was worse—the one who always tried to convince me to

mow the lawn shirtless, or the one who relished baiting me.

Why couldn’t Ava have lived with one of her other friends?

Stella seemed more accommodating, and given her background,

Bridget wouldn’t ever say the shit Jules said.

But no, I was stuck with the redheaded menace.

No wonder Josh always complained about her.

“You said she’s with a friend.” I pulled onto the street where

said friend’s house was located and parked.

“A male friend.” She unbuckled her seatbelt with a beatific

smile. “Thanks for the ride and conversation. It was…

enlightening.”

I didn’t bother asking her what she meant. She’d just feed me

a heap of sugar-laced bullshit.

While Jules took her sweet time, I exited the car and banged

an impatient fist against the front door.

It swung open a minute later, revealing a skinny, bespectacled

man with confusion stamped on his face when he saw Jules and

me standing there. “Can I help you?”

“Where’s Ava?”

“She’s upstairs, but who—” I shouldered my way past him,

which wasn’t hard considering he weighed a hundred sixty, tops.

“Hey, you can’t go up there!” he yelled. “They’re in the middle

of something.”

Fuck. That. If Ava was having sex—a dangerous rhythm

pulsed behind my temple at the thought—that was all the more

reason for an interruption. Horny college guys were some of the

most dangerous creatures in existence.

I

wondered if she’d gotten back together with her ex. Josh

mentioned the weasel had cheated on her, and she didn’t seem

like the type who’d crawl back to someone after they treated her

terribly, but I wouldn’t put anything past Miss Sunshine and

Roses. That bleeding heart of hers would land her in a heap of

trouble one day.

Once I reached the second floor, I didn’t need to guess what

room she was in—I heard sounds bleeding through the half-open

door at the end of the hall. Behind me, Jules and Spectacles

pounded up the steps, the latter still blabbering about how I

couldn’t be up here even though I was already fucking here.

I

didn’t know how humans survived this long. Most people

were idiots.

I opened the door all the way and froze.

Not sex. Worse.

Ava stood in the middle of the room, clad in a skimpy black

lace getup that left little to the imagination. She huddled next to a

guy with spiked blond hair holding a camera. They were

whispering and laughing while staring at the camera’s display

screen, so engrossed in their little tête-à-tête they didn’t notice

they had company.

My temple pulsed harder.

“What…” My voice sliced through the air like a whip. “Is going

on here.”

It wasn’t a question. I knew what was going on. The setup, the

rumpled bed, Ava’s outfit…they were in the middle of a

photoshoot. With Ava as the model. Dressed in something that

wouldn’t be out of place in Playboy magazine.

The strappy concoction Ava wore barely covered the

necessary bits. It looped around her neck, baring her shoulders

To be continued

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