A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)

 

Our first reunion kiss feels like a lifetime ago. Four years of yearning was poured into that kiss, and now there’s less of the yearning and more of the future. Each time Drew touches me, it’s a bridge between the terrifying past and the uncertain tomorrow. I want his touches to mean more than I’m sorry. I want his kisses to stand for more than regret. I want to be wanted because I am Lindsay.

 

Not because I represent a loss.

 

But because we have something left to gain.

 

“You taste like coffee,” I whisper, our foreheads touching, breath joining.

 

“You taste like Lindsay.”

 

“What does Lindsay taste like?” I ask, laughter in my throat.

 

“Like everything.” He kisses me again, this time with more urgency. “Everything.”

 

Tap tap tap.

 

Drew’s on his feet in a nanosecond, wiping his mouth, glaring at the door as if it’s done something wrong.

 

“Damn it,” he mutters to me. “I’m sorry. I need to be more careful.”

 

“It’s fine,” I urge.

 

A terse shake of his head tells me it’s not fine.

 

But oh, that kiss sure was fine.

 

“If we’re caught, I’ll be kicked off your case.”

 

Case. I’m a case.

 

“You kiss all your cases?”

 

He glowers. “Only the really hot ones.”

 

“Hello?” The door opens, and Jane appears.

 

I need a fan to cool myself down.

 

“Jane,” Drew says with a head nod. “Just don’t open the curtains, and I’ll be in the hall if you need anything.” Without looking at me, Drew leaves.

 

How can he leave me hanging like that?

 

“Oh, Lindsay,” Jane says. When I don’t answer, she looks at me closely, then back at the door.

 

“Oh, Lindsay,” she says again, only in a very different tone. “Did I interrupt something?”

 

She always was perceptive.

 

“Just, you know...” I pick the first word that comes to mind. “Debriefing.”

 

“Whose briefs came off first?”

 

“Jane!”

 

She smothers her smile with a palm. “He still loves you.”

 

“Not that again. You know how it all, well...”

 

She pulls a chair over to the bed and hands me a gold foil box.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Chocolate. Your favorite.”

 

I open the box and smell maple. “You remembered?”

 

Jane has the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “My mom told me. She has a file about you.”

 

“A file?”

 

“All your favorites. She said your father made her create one for presents.”

 

Daddy’s got the personal touch down.

 

“I don’t care. Just—yum! Maple creams! Come pig out with me.”

 

Jane giggles. “I feel bad. They’re for you.”

 

“If you don’t help me eat them, who will? My mom?”

 

She laughs even harder. “Fine.” Plucking one, she chomps on it. “So spill. I hear someone cut your brakes?”

 

I give a quick version of the story. Jane is suitably horrified.

 

“And that was after running into Tara, Jenna and Mandy at the docks?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Any chance they did it?”

 

“Can you picture Tara or Mandy on the ground, cutting brake lines?”

 

“Definitely not. Never. Never ever in a million years.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Then who?”

 

I shouldn’t tell her. I know I shouldn’t. But you reach a point where the need to share yourself with someone is so important. I’m tired of being isolated. Alone.

 

Lonely.

 

“Someone texted me a very threatening message last night.”

 

“What did it say?”

 

“Welcome back, Lindsay. Ready to play with us again?” I say the words like a robot. The text feels like there’s an evil machine after me. Like the text comes from The Terminator and I’m Sara Connor.

 

“Oh, God. No, Lindsay. Does your dad know?”

 

“Drew does, so I assume Daddy knows.”

 

“What does Drew think?”

 

“He thinks it’s them.”

 

“Them?” Her eyes go wide. “You mean...”

 

“Yes.” I don’t even have to say John, Stellan and Blaine’s names.

 

“You have to go to the police!”

 

“Why? So they can just smear me again and not believe me, like last time? No. Drew’s handling it.”

 

“How?”

 

“By staying with me at all times.”

 

“I don’t think that’s a hardship for him.”

 

“He’s protecting me!”

 

“In more ways than one.” Her lips twitch with a smile.

 

“This is serious, Jane.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry for making light of it, but it’s good to see you smile.”

 

Funny. Drew said that, too.

 

“Did you really push Tara into the water at the docks?” Jane asks with a sly smile.

 

“She pushed me.”

 

“That was the other rumor I heard. So which was it?”

 

“She pushed me.” I repeat, blinking innocently.

 

Her eyebrows go up. “That’s your story?”

 

“And I’m sticking to it.”

 

“Either way, it’s a great story.”

 

“I wasn’t the one dressed to the nines, carrying a day’s worth of shopping bags that ended up soaked.”

 

“Poor Tara.” Jane’s lips go into a fake pout of sympathy.