“Don’t you think we should actually search the apartment building in which he vanished before the rest of Manhattan?” I asked for the second time today.
Crazy Cassie had been convinced immediately after Walter’s disappearing act that he’d up and, I don’t know, fucking teleported himself to the other side of Central Park. She’d dragged me out onto the sidewalk, and led by the helpful direction of her tits, I’d followed right along on a roller coaster ride straight into hell. Up and down the sidewalks of the park, from one side to the other and back again, a Twilight Zone cab ride, and a little light manual labor at her apartment later, and here I was, about to follow her into the depths of Manhattan fitness and fornication again.
I guess that makes me the crazy one.
“Would you stop contradicting every fucking thing I say? Use that beanstalk body of yours and search the surrounding area.”
Fed up, I pulled her to a stop with the hand she was dragging me by. “I’m going back to search the building, and if I don’t find him, I’m calling Kline.”
“Thatcher—”
“No, Cass. Stay out here and search if you want, but you’ll never find Walnuts in the bevy of strays combing Central Park. God, for all we know, the little prick has a key to their apartment and is halfway through his afternoon bath in the middle of their goddamn bed.”
“Shit!” she yelled, her face falling as she started running in the direction we had come, shoving people out of the way as she went.
“What?” I asked, breaking into a jog to keep up.
“The door!” she shrieked. “We left the door to their apartment open!”
Oh, fuck.
Yeah, safe bet they weren’t going to be asking us to watch their apartment or their cat again.
My legs were twice the length of hers, so I passed her easily, sprinting through the crowded sidewalk. I slammed through the door, nodding at the doorman as I went, and thanking fuck their building had one.
Too impatient to wait for the elevator, I took the stairs three at a time. Fourteen stories up with sweat pouring like a fucking faucet from my temples, I finally burst through the stairwell door and out into their hallway.
The door was open just like Cass had said, so I said a silent prayer I hadn’t just deprived my best friend and his new bride of all their belongings.
Shoving the door as I went, I slid to a stop just inside and examined the open floor plan with manic eyes. All the furniture seemed to be in place, and nothing of value stood out as missing, but I hadn’t kept an actual fucking inventory list either.
I’d just started to take a full breath when a tap on my shoulder sent me into a near seizure.
Cassie spoke as if nothing was amiss. “Stuff’s all here, but no devil cat. The door was closed, by the way. Whoops.”
I put a hand to my forehead and tried to stop the nearly brain-piercing urge to strangle her.
“What took you so long?” she went on, having beaten me up here by taking the elevator.
White-hot rage consumed every cubic inch of my insides, but I tried my best to tamp it down.
Is this what an aneurysm feels like?
“Hey, Thatcher, you okay?” she asked, her face turning serious as I sank to the floor and rubbed at the tension in my temples. Her bra-covered breasts pushed against the fabric of her T-shirt as she sat down beside me.
How in the fuck did I still find this crazy asshole woman attractive? What was wrong with me?
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled, scrubbing at my eyes and hoping they had some kind of link to my actions. “I want to donate my brain to science.”
“Huh?”
“Like the football players are doing for concussions. I think this would be worthwhile research too.” As my head fell back to the wall behind me, she nudged me roughly with one of her feet.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now, but stop it,” she demanded. “You’re scaring me, and it’s pissing me off.”
I turned my head and looked into her eyes to find them actually angry, spitting blue flames and making the end of her nose pull slightly askew. She straddled the line between angelic and evil too easily. She foiled that boundary with the mystifying mix of her peaches and cream skin and powerful, knowing eyes.
Too wild to be innocent, too authentic to be wicked.
Her light pink lips pursed, and without a thought, mine were on them. They acted on their own, begging for an invitation from her or me, or both of us, to take it further. One moment bled into the next without thought or action until her lips moved under mine. Not far and not open, but not away either.
Stunned, I pulled back. I couldn’t understand it, but something in me didn’t want to hear her say no—so I said it for her.