Xavier is a snuggler. Something I never thought I’d like, but waking up with us draped around one another was my favorite way to wake up.
A pang of nostalgia slaps me in the face, and I force my feet to move before I do or say something I’ll regret. “Thanks for everything today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I stride toward the door.
“Sawyer?” he calls out when I have my hand curled around the door handle.
I turn around, hopeful for some stupid reason. “Yeah?”
Silence engulfs us as simmering electricity crackles in the air. “Night, dude.”
My heart sinks, and I’m not sure I’m quick enough to hide the disappointment from my face. “Night, Bright One. Sweet dreams,” I say, before exiting the apartment.
19
Sawyer
“Sydney.” I rap on her bedroom door again. “Can I come in? We need to talk.” I’ve been trying to catch her for days, but I’m usually up before she’s awake, and she’s generally in bed when I return at night, so there hasn’t been time. I purposely left Xavier’s place early tonight, determined to speak to her.
“I’m not really in the mood,” she calls out.
“It’s important,” I shout through the door. “Either I’m coming in or you’ll have to come out.”
The door swings open, revealing a pouting, disheveled Sydney. Strands of matted hair cling to her clammy brow. Her eyes are bloodshot and red rimmed, and her skin is all splotchy. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” I ask, spotting the copious used tissues littering the floor and the pain meds on her bedside table.
“I’ve been better,” she cryptically says, stepping aside to let me enter. “You might as well come in.”
Tiptoeing around the half-emptied boxes, I make my way to the couch, opening the window to air out the stuffy room. I push some magazines and papers to one side to make room on the couch, sitting down as she drops into the recliner, pulling her knees into her chest. She’s wearing wrinkled pajama pants and a white tank with obvious stains. “Can I do anything to help?” I ask, wondering what is up with her.
“You’ve already helped me enough.” Her features soften. “Charlie sent me my new bank details and card, and I know you did something to get me that interview at the gallery.”
“Are you mad I interfered?” I only did it because I want her to get the job and to have some kind of purpose. I’m not around much, and she must be lonely.
“I was a little, at first, but I got the job and I start Monday, so I guess thanks is in order.”
“That’s great. Congrats.” I rest my ankle over my knee, leaning back in the couch.
“What did you want to talk about?” She nibbles on her lower lip.
“I’m going away for a few days. Not sure when I’ll be back, but it should be by Sunday. Florentina will be here tomorrow, and I put money into your new account and ordered groceries to be delivered.”
An amused grin spreads over her mouth. “I’m twenty-four, Sawyer. I can look after myself, but I appreciate the gestures.”
Placing my foot on the ground, I lean my elbows on my knees and clasp my hands. “There was one other thing. I know we agreed to a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement, but I’ve changed my mind. It’s not what I want. Us sleeping together was a one-time thing, and I’d prefer it if we kept it strictly platonic from now on.”
“It’s okay, Sawyer. I figured as much.” She brushes knotty hair out of her face. “I’m guessing you’re still hung up on Xavier.”
I nod. “I’m not ready to move on in any capacity,” I truthfully admit. “And I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t think sex is a good idea between us.”
“You’re probably right.” Her eyes flit to the stack of magazines beside me, and pain is etched across her face. She stands. “Was that everything? I need to shower and clean up this place. I know how much my mess must be getting to you.”
I rise to my feet. “Honestly? Yes, but it’s your room. At least you’re not trashing the apartment the way Jackson used to.” A full-body shudder works its way through me. “I love the guy like a brother, but he’s one untidy bastard.”
She giggles before her gaze drifts again to the pile of magazines on the couch. Darting forward, she scoops them up, thrusting them into my arms. “Dump those, please.” She gives me a quick hug. “Have a good trip. I’ll see you when you return.”
I walk to the kitchen to dispose of the recycling material, scanning the headline on one of the celebrity magazines. It seems Jared Dempsey—drummer for Ruminate, the band Ryder Stone’s little brother Wilder is a member of—is engaged to be married to some up-and-coming supermodel. I wonder why Sydney has scribbled all over their faces?
“This is like déjà vu,” Lauder says, keeping his voice low as we scan the grounds of the Matherses’ estate from our perch in one of the trees at the forest edging the property, using high-tech binoculars courtesy of Techxet. We have split into groups of two. I’m with Jackson. Anderson is with Xavier, and Drew is with Charlie. Diesel has a crew of six who is currently clearing a path to the house, while we scope out the grounds for unanticipated threats. “I’m just waiting for Daniels to confirm the deranged sociopath is on the move,” Lauder quips.
“That would be a tad difficult,” Xavier says through our earpieces, “considering said sociopath is now dust in the wind.”
“He wasn’t the only Mathers with sociopathic tendencies,” Anderson says in my ear. “I’m pretty sure Alessandra shares the same traits.”
“Truth,” Drew says. “She’s definitely his mini-me in the making.”
“Concentrate on the task at hand,” Diesel commands in an authoritative voice. “We need to get in and out before the ladies return from their gala event.”
“They are no ladies,” Drew says. “But we hear you loud and clear.”
We arrived in Bama late last night, holing up in some skeezy motel on the outskirts of town. We need to keep our presence on the down low, so staying in one of the five-star hotels was out of the question.
I’m glad I chose to bring my own bedsheets. There is no way I would’ve gotten any sleep on the hard, stained sheets of the twin bed I ended up in otherwise. Anderson was in charge of the room bookings, and of course, he put himself with Lauder and me with Xavier. Meddling asshole. Xavier, being the diva he is, claimed the double bed, leaving me with the tiny twin. It’s a miracle I managed to grab any sleep with my feet poking out the end of the bed, and I kept falling off the side every time I turned over.
I don’t care what he says—I’m taking the bigger bed tonight.
We spent all day running over plans with Diesel and his team. Johnson has a map of the entire place from his time spent on Denton’s security detail. He was also able to tell us the layout of Mathers’s office, including the hidden room behind the bookcase. A friend who is still on the security team confirmed Denton hasn’t been seen since the night we broke Van out of here. Obviously. ’Cause he’s currently languishing in hell. What is interesting is the fact they’ve been told Mathers is overseas on extended business and Alessandra is running the ship in his steed. I’m sure she’s in her fucking element and enjoying lording it over everyone. A bitch like her given access to power is dangerous, in the extreme.