Page 32 of With This Kiss
I waited for him to speak first.
“What happened?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. I just got home not too long ago.”
“They knew you would be out. Who would know that? Where did you go?”
I crossed my arms. “That doesn’t matter.”
He shot me a look, but I stood my ground.
He let out a small sigh.
“You didn’t need to come. I could have handled this myself.”
He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he walked around the room, inspecting it.
I didn’t know what he was looking for, and it wasn’t like there was much of anything to see.
Nothing in this entire apartment was salvageable. It was a damn good thing I didn’t leave any valuable shit here. I wasn’t fucking stupid.
“What were they looking for?” Kingston asked, turning his sharp brown eyes toward me.
“Don’t know,” I answered.
He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare me down, as if he was trying to decide whether I was lying or not. I wouldn’t be giving him anything.
He nodded. “Okay. Look around to make sure nothing is missing. And check the security footage.”
I held up my phone. “Already did that. Showed three men breaking in. All dressed in black and wearing ski masks. There’s nothing identifiable about them. About average height, average build, and were inside my apartment for no more than fifteen minutes. They left about an hour ago in a stolen car, and if they were smart, they would have already found a place to switch cars. There’s no way to track them. We’ll just have to sit and wait to see what their next move is.”
Kingston nodded. “Okay. Keep me updated.”
And with that, he walked out of the apartment without another word. I watched his back for a long moment, not doing anything else. Then I looked back at the mess that was my apartment and walked to my bedroom. They didn’t even leave the mattress alone. It was slit down the middle.
Fuckers.
If I ever got my hands on them, I would do to their fucking backs what they’d done to my bed.
And I was sure that wouldn’t be enough to abate my anger.
I would need to find a new place to sleep tonight.
The phone in my hand vibrated, and I looked down to see Rose’s name flashing on the screen—the second time she had called me in one night.
I sent the call straight to voicemail and closed my eyes.
Fuck, but I needed a drink.
8
JAMIE
Icame home to Dad’s house on Sunday evening for dinner.
While I hadn’t exactly grown up in what I would call a normal home, it wasn’t as bad as I was sure most people thought it was.
Dad wasn’t the most affectionate man in the world, but he wasn’t abusive. He could be careless at times, but I knew he loved me in his own way.
