Page 142 of Under the Bed

“You have to promise me, Kaleb. You have to promise you’re not going to get caught on yourmissiontoday.” Her tone, combined with her hands on her hips, is so fucking adorable. “You’ll repay the favor to your friend and go straight to that apartment you live in. You’ll wait there for me. And under no circumstances, don’t kill your doctor. Just don’t. I’ve got this.”

“I promise. But don’t think that I’m not coming back for you.” She’s hot when she sasses. When she thinks she has the upper hand. When she has no idea what I have planned for her today. “Go.”

Her blue, clever gaze studies me for another long minute. “Kaleb. Swear.”

“Swear.”

Shiloh sees the lie for what it is. She growls and lifts to kiss my cheek, regardless.

I grip her chin and claim her mouth, puke and all.

As long as there’s no Plan B in there, I’m good.

Never better.

23

SHILOH

“Miss Talbot.” A man with gray hair pushes his glasses up his nose and then waves at me.

Dr. Reynolds. Kaleb’s therapist fromthatplace.

My body is on high alert. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

Adrenaline has been soaking my blood since Kaleb caught me gulping down the Plan B pill. Since he told me about the hell he’d lived in.

Since I had to let him go. Out there. Where it isn’t safe.

I’m a live wire, but since I can’t let it show, I pretend to be someone I’m not.

Knowing that I’m burning up from the inside, I double down on the effort to relax my facial muscles.

Gotta fake it to win this round against a psychiatrist. A man trained to read people. Who’s had years of experience.

A man who’s obsessed with finding Kaleb.

He doesn’t have to say that. It’s blatantly obvious, given the fact that he’s here. Outside my building. He drove hours to get here. To talk to me all by himself. No backup. No cops.

He doesn’t want to catch Kaleb. He just wants him.

Shoulders pulled down, a soft smile plays on my lips. My thoughts go back to last night when I fell asleep in Kaleb’s arms.

There it is. Warmth spreads through me. The tension in my muscles bleeds out. I must look sincere since he’s smiling back at me.

“Who’s asking?” I’m close enough that I don’t have to raise my voice. I’m proud of myself for sounding casual, for being Kaleb’s protector.

“Dr. Maxwell Reynolds.” He pushes off his Honda, offering me his hand.

I accept it, shaking it once. When he’s quiet, I tilt my head. A silent question.

Who are you?

I’m not supposed to know that. I couldn’t contact Kaleb while he was locked up. Couldn’t visit. Couldn’t ask about him. Up until this week, I had no idea what his primary psychiatrist’s name was.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners? I haven’t introduced myself.” Two can play this game, it seems. He pretends this is awkward.

Trying to trick me into being at ease around him.

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