Page 53 of Direct Action

“Chloe, sweetheart,” Gavin started. “I’ve covered your shift for this afternoon.”

Covered my shift?

“I’m fine to go in. I need to go in. I can’t miss work. Call whoever is covering and tell them they don’t need to cover.”

At most Ryan lived five miles from me. If I left now, I could walk home and still get to work on time.

“Chloe—”

“I missed working yesterday. I need the money, Gavin.”

“Ryan put you on the manager’s payroll. You’ll be paid for yesterday and today.”

My eyes swung back to Ryan. His expression was blank, but his eyes were working overtime scanning my face.

Yesterday that concentration had felt good. It felt like concern. It felt safe. Now it felt intrusive and ugly.

“How dare you—”

Ryan’s hand wrapped around mine, and before I could finish what I was saying, he was dragging me down the hall. Which was fine by me. I needed to change my clothes and get home, but to do that, I’d have to visit Ryan’s delicious den of debauchery one more time. And it was good I was so pissed, because if I wasn’t, I’d likely be stupid and take my time to memorize the look and feel of his bedroom. I’d be sad I’d never sleep in his bed again or feel him curled around me or how for the first time in my life I didn’t feel so damn alone.

Ryan slammed the door and let go of my hand. Before I could go on a quest to find my clothes, his question stopped me in my tracks.

“Why’d you stop depositing money into your savings account?”

“What?”

“Ten months ago, you stopped depositing money. Eight months ago, you started making withdrawals. Now you’ve got seventeen dollars in the account. Why?”

“How do you know that?” I asked, with my heart thudding in my chest.

“Answer me, baby.”

“Don’t baby me, asshole. How do you know that?”

“I asked Fallon to look into why you were working so many jobs. I know you don’t do drugs or drink, never heard of you gambling. No deadbeat boyfriends. Something happened ten months ago that led you to stop saving money, start spending it, and work yourself until you’re dog-ass tired. I’m asking you what that is.”

He had Fallon look into me.

My bosses looked into my finances.

What the hell?

“No, Ryan, you’re not asking me. You asked Fallon. And you don’t get to know.”

I turned to leave, but before I could, Ryan grabbed my hand.

“Let me go.”

“No, Chloe, I’m not letting you go.”

“Oh, I forgot if I don’t do what you say, you’ll cuff me to your bed. Fine. I quit.”

That wasn’t a lie. It was one of those fibs that lacked context, so it wasn’t an outright lie. I was quitting a job, just not the one he’d demanded me to.

“Chloe, we need to—”

“No, Ryan, we don’t need to do anything.”