I was surprised at how close the hostel was to Zach Malden’s place. Apparently he was living in an affluent part of Boston known as Beacon Hill. I gaped at the richness of the neighborhood. Townhomes in Louisburg Square listed upward of eleven million dollars, and the area was one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the USA, according to the Internet.
I clenched my fists. If Zach Malden lived in one of those homes, his father had to be filthy rich. Hopefully my inheritance hadn’t contributed to the purchase of an elegant piece of property. Snow crunched beneath my boots with every step I took down the brick sidewalk. Maybe I would get lucky and Terrance would be home. I let out a nervous laugh. I was ready to threaten him into giving me my money back. The Taser Dillon had given me was secured in the backpack I had draped over my shoulder. I’d never threatened or harmed another human in my life. But as the cliché said, desperate times called for desperate measures.
I checked Zach’s business card. I was looking for number twelve. The number fourteen was tacked on the brick townhome on my right. The street was quiet for a Wednesday morning, the scenery reminding me of a postcard picture, with fluffy snow blanketing the park that split the street in half and old-fashioned streetlamps poking out every few feet.
As I approached my destination, I saw a girl sitting on the stairs bundled up in a parka and a light-blue, furry knitted hat. She was wiping tears away with her gloved hands when I stopped at the bottom of the stone steps.
“Chloe?” I rarely forgot a face.
Her eyes were red, mascara streaking down her cheeks. “Emma? Do you live around here?” She sniffled.
Seriously? Me, live around here? In a month I would have debt collectors on my butt, or at least a large-bellied landlord hunting me down. I wouldn’t put it past the man to send out his search dogs. Dillon had said he didn’t want the mafia on his ass. Well, I didn’t want a raging Latino man on mine. His temper probably surpassed that of any mafia man.
I pressed a booted foot onto the bottom step, quickly glancing at the number twelve above the green door. “Did Kelton hurt you? I can kick his ass for you.” I had once or twice when we were kids. I wouldn’t mind tussling with him again, if only to touch him, to feel what it would be like to roll around on the ground with his hard body tangled with mine.
She smiled, but it never reached her brown eyes. “No.”
Then it dawned on me: if Chloe was there, was Kelton? I had to think. I couldn’t walk into Zach’s house if Kelton was there. I wasn’t sure if he would recognize me with the red wig on or not. So what if he did? He already knows who you are. That might be, but he would have questions, and if Kelton made a scene and I had to expose myself, I couldn’t risk Zach seeing the real me. We’d met once years ago. I didn’t know if he knew his father’s friends. If he did, then he certainly would at least know the name Reardon. At the moment, he didn’t know my full name. The other problem I had was that Kelton didn’t know what I was up to. He definitely would try to stop me. Or if he and Zach were chummy, Kelton would more than likely protect his friend.
“So are you waiting on Kelton?” Please say no.
“Kelton and I aren’t together anymore.”
She was a sweet and beautiful girl. “I thought you two were getting married? You seemed happy at the art gala.” Kelton hadn’t, but she had.
She wiped her nose. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice rose. “There isn’t a girl on this planet that could snag Kelton. He’ll never settle down.” She flicked another worried glance at the townhome.
My heart was doing a happy dance that they weren’t an item. But in an instant, I squashed it. Single or not, I couldn’t get involved with Kelton. “Does Kelton live here?”
The door to the townhome opened with a click, causing Chloe to jump to attention, blocking my view. I was reluctant to move to see who was coming out of the house.
“Chloe, why did you leave?” Zach asked in what sounded like a sleepy voice. “We need to talk more about—”
A mousy sound escaped me. She didn’t waste any time finding another man. Then heat thawed my frozen cheeks. I liked Chloe and didn’t know the whole story. Shame on me for judging her. Zach could be painting a portrait of her. Or they could be friends. But the tension between them was telling me differently.
“Zach, I have to go.” Chloe moved to her right, exposing me.
Like an idiot, I waved as if I was the queen in a Fourth of July parade.
Zach’s eyelids were droopy. He rubbed his hand over his bare chest then the curly hair matted to his head. He checked his watch.
“On the phone, you did say Wednesday at ten a.m. But I can come back.”
Chloe stood on the stairs as if the cold had turned her into a statue. “I have class.” She bolted like white lightning.
“Chloe!” Zach called as he stomped out in his bare feet. “Shit.” Then he mumbled other words I couldn’t make out.