The third door I open is the only room that looks like anyone has been here. There’s a backpack, a pallet of blankets and a pillow in the corner directly on the concrete with a small stack of books next to it. I kneel next to the backpack and unzip it. There’s a jumble of clothing and a small electronic game system which makes me smile.
The image of a scary guy like Blade playing video games is highly amusing for some reason.
“Find anything?” Cole hangs back, content to let me do all the work.
“Nothing. This guy is like a ghost.”
Frustrated, I zip the backpack and lean it against the wall exactly the way I found it. The books next to the bed are all classics. Nietzsche, Hemingway and there’s even a copy of the Socratic Dialogues. The last book is in some language that I can’t identify so I take a picture of it for Luke. I carefully pull back the bedding. Under the pillow there’s a trio of knives with intricately carved designs on the hilts. They look brutal with deep, serrated edges. I cover them again, making sure to put everything back the way I found it.
I stand up, knowing my time is running out. I can’t afford to have someone catch me here. But everything I’ve seen so far just makes the sick feeling in my stomach even worse.
Everything about this guy points to a career criminal type. He’s smart enough to leave almost no trace of himself behind and without any clues to his identity I have no way to prepare for his next move.
We leave and I lock the door behind me carefully. The wind has picked up and trash blows by from one of the overturned cans down the street.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Not really.” My turmoil must show on my face because he cuffs me over the head affectionately, the same way he used to when I was a kid.
“If you ever need anything, you know where I am. We can always use a pretty boy.” He’s still chuckling as he walks away.
There’s a man a few yards away, so I keep my head down as I head back to my car.
Chapter ten
SASHA
Usually waking up is a long process. I’m not a morning person, never have been, and waking up feels like slogging through quicksand with cement boots on. But today my eyes pop open instantly. I’m sore. Really sore. My thighs clench and I blush remembering why I feel so worked over. I turn to the other side of the bed, which is a mess of tangled sheets.
Empty.
I sit up slowly, pushing my hair out of my face. I forgot to tie it up last night so it’s everywhere. Winding it around itself into a quick bun will have to do. I’m not up on morning after dos and don’ts but I’m pretty sure letting your man see you looking like a hot mess isn’t the way to go. After a quick visit to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, I pull on a robe and head down the hall to the kitchen. Gabe likes to get up early and check emails while he has his coffee. I’ve gotten used to the sight of him at my small kitchenette set, his large frame completely out of place in the dainty chairs.
But when I enter the kitchen, it's empty. Then I see the note on the counter and I just know. In an instant, my happy mood crashes and burns. I stand there for a minute, frozen in place, trying not to cry.
Finally I move forward and grab the note, reading it as I continue to the refrigerator. It says exactly what I expected, that he needed to get home and that he’ll see me later.
In all fairness, there are probably a bunch of things he's been neglecting while he was here entertaining me. The whole time he was here, he only left once to pick up some clothes and a few things at the store. That’s probably what turned my head and made me forget to keep my feelings in check. A man who grocery shops?
That’s enough to make any woman fall in love.
My shoulders slump as I read the note again. The disappointment that I feel isn’t even the worst part. It’s the hurt. Gabe and I may not have a relationship but I at least thought we liked each other. Someone you like deserves more than a hastily written note on the counter. Even worse is that after spending so much time together, I know Gabe. I know how he thinks, how he withdraws emotionally when he doesn’t want to talk about something. This is more than just a guy being a jerk after a one-night stand. He’s running scared.
Which disappoints me more than I expected.
Over the next few days, I resolve to forget about Gabe which turns out to be much easier said than done. There’s plenty to keep me busy between a new temp job doing admin work for a local law firm and poring over expenses for the club. But everything reminds me of him now and everywhere I turn, I keep imagining that I see his face. His memory is tormenting me and it kills me to admit the truth. It wasn’t just fun and games with Gabe.
I miss him.
On Saturday morning the doorbell rings just as I'm stepping out of the shower. I grab at the towel on the rack, wrapping it hastily around my head to stop the water from dripping into my eyes.
Who could that be?
Kay called me yesterday to make sure I got the basket she sent, so she knows that I'm okay. She very carefully avoided any mention of the fact that Gabe was at my house but I could tell she was curious about what's going on between us.
The fact that she hasn’t asked about it makes me think that Eli might have played a part in why Gabe left so quickly. I doubt I even want to know what Eli said to him. I sigh. Having family and friends who love you is a blessing but it comes with the assurance of them sticking their nose in your business and thinking they know more about what you need than you do. But if Gabe can be scared off from a few harsh words then he probably wasn’t going to stick around anyway. I shake off the renewed sense of hurt as I pull my damp hair back into a ponytail and dress in my favorite pair of jeans and a frilly red blouse that makes me feel festive.