He wasn’t my first choice. I didn’t know how much relationship building they’d exactly done.
“Hey!” Of course he didn’t stop walking. No one talked to him here ever, so his attention had learned to block everyone out with ease. Walking quickly, I tried to catch up when I saw him standing there staring at me.
“Who are you running after? We’re the only ones here right now.”
“You, asshole… I need to talk to you.” Trying to catch my breath, I stopped folding into a tabletop position while holding my phone up in the air.
I was dramatic so what.
“What the fuck…? I’m not into it if that’s what you’re fishing for.” His voice was perfectly hoarse, the tattoos decorated his body perfectly, and his messy hair was the right amount of don’t care. I could see why she stopped complaining.
“No, asshat. Her ex, Oscar Demonte, took these. He’s a fucking creep.”
He stared at me like I had malfunctioned enough to just be spewing random information onto whoever I saw first. With an eye roll, I continued, “Are we still pretending we don’t both work for the Illuminati? I should reap some benefits for that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He handed my phone back to me, testing my ability to stay calm when it came to liars.
My pinched fingers spread over the screen, and I zoomed in on the image showing him again, now with a better view of Abigail in bed, half naked, violated by this creep. I saw his face stuck in a blank stare, trying to remain neutral in the face of whatever I threw his way.
“Is that…?” His words trailed off, and I nodded my head yes. “I’ll handle it. Demonte?”
“Know it? Part of your fancy, invite-only club?”
The office stirred to life with heels clacking on the hard shiny floors and Abigail's unmistakable perfume.
“I know of him. We vet who joins. Thank you.”
“Where have you even been? Don’t make me hurt you, because you hurt my best friend.”
Handing me back my phone strategically behind my back in my open hand to make sure she didn’t see as I greeted her with an over the top “Good morning!”
I could already tell by her tight features, and her immobile brows were telling, all too telling. Dead eyes too. Not dead like she was devoid of emotion, but the kind that wanted you dead.
Oh, shit.
This was the side of Abigail that got quiet and looked so unresolved no matter what you did that it almost seemed pointless to try to apologize. I also knew if I didn’t try to smooth this over, her control freak brain and high standards weren’t going to let this go.
“I was just getting Grimm’s opinion on something…” Sitting on her desk, I tried to pull all of her attention to me, the only person trying to seem normal, while he still looked pissed under all that control.
Abigail set down the tray of yellow smoothies next to me and slapped my hand away. “Opinion about what? His take on attending work?” Her eyebrows popped, waiting for me to answer, forcing me into a truth corner, knowing I was a bad liar.
Grimm, being the gentleman I didn’t think he was, interrupted, looking directly at me. “You suck at lying, huh, Jus? Abigail, we need to talk.”
I watched Abigail’s cheeks flush as she snatched the smoothie out of my hand and followed Grimm inside his office, after moping over him the last few days.
Must have a magic dick to make Abi pine over you.
As he closed the door, he leaned into the space filling with employees and said to me, “Don’t you have a desk to be at?”
Asshat.
GRIMM
I waited for the soundless door to click shut before speaking. My fists were clenched, and I couldn’t bear to look directly at Abigail until the strong mental image of her in that damn polaroid faded.
“Oscar. Ex? Current boyfriend? Hooking up?” I made demands as I moved past her to the window looking over the business district of LA.
“I don’t think my romantic life is the business of my boss…” I could feel her embarrassment at my back.
“He took photos of you sleeping. I need to know what he is to you, like if this is some kinky shit you do, and your best friend is just being protective.”
“Excuse me? Kinky shit? I don’t let guys take photos of me while I’m sleeping and not even in a good fucking angle.”
The image was still glued to the inside of my mind, but I turned around anyways, with my fists still balled up by my side and jaw achingly tight. She had zero idea I just got back from Chicago. She had no idea I had handled her past, and now I was going to handle her present.
“How is he getting inside your place at night, Abigail? Spare key? Living with him?”
I was fishing for answers, ones that made me angry with him and those photos more than I was judging her for being in this position. I knew it wasn’t her fault, yet I was angry all the same. All around.
“I live with Jus. I never gave him a spare key.” Or the keys to my heart. “He was a guy who asked me out. We went out a few times, had sex a few times, and then I realized he’s a womanizer. Happy now that you have all the details?”
It was a start. The monster found its new target, and neither of us would be happy until Oscar was punished.
“Nope. Not even close.”
Grabbing my bomber jacket from the metal coat tree in the corner, I made it to the door without her protesting to talk this out or whatever the fuck normal people did. I didn’t talk anything out unless I was forced to and paying $500/hour to my overpriced therapist. I used violence, my bottled up anger, and fists to feed the monster.
He was never quiet until he got what he wanted, and I didn’t feel like his voice inside my head being the soundtrack to my fucking day.
“Where are you going?” she snapped my direction as I pulled the handle on the door.
Just when I thought you were different.
Ignoring her, I made it to the elevator just past her best friend’s desk, where she was supposed to greet people, but all the pink hair did was make these assholes in business attire judge her the same way I was Abigail.
She shouldn’t have been in this situation at all.
She shouldn’t have given him the opportunity to fuck up this badly.
She should have come to me if something that bad happened.
This was what I did for the Clave: fix bad things. I was the fixer, killer for hire, and resident crazy who could handle the stains killing left. Scaring a creep into leaving my secretary alone was the less of all the evils I came face-to-face with.
Punching the inside of the elevator with my fist, I felt the momentum ripple between my knuckles upon contact. I knew I broke it almost immediately; it wasn’t my first broken bone born out of anger and probably wouldn’t be the last.
Not when we get our hands on Oscar.
My car chirped as I hit the unlock button, and it echoed into the air. It should have just been the gunshot signaling a war was starting, because it was.
My car purred under me as I closed the driver’s side door and I scrolled through my phone to find Oscar’s social media profile I knew he had. I wasn’t myself anymore. I was letting the monster take over and do what he did best: kill.
Oscar didn’t geotag anything, because I guess he had enough brain cells to not disclose his location, but not enough to stash his fucking photo evidence somewhere else.