Page 69 of Swerve (Boosted Hearts 1)

“Who was that?”

He shook his head. “Work.”

“And?”

His jaw was tight when he looked at me. “This is one of those things I can’t discuss with you.”

“Is it about me? Scott?”

“I told you, if I knew something I’d share it with you.”

I slid off the counter, planting my hands on my hips. But it was kind of hard to look all business when you were standing in your undies with half your ass hanging out. I wasn’t going to let him shut me out of this, though. “What is it then? Something’s bothering you. That conversation with Van, now this phone call. You’re keeping something from me.”

He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

The man was straight up lying. I knew him well enough to know that. “Bullshit.” I pointed a finger at him. “Jesus, Neco, what the hell is going on?”

He stiffened, nostrils flaring. “Enough,” he barked. “I’m done with the fucking interrogation. I can’t spell it out to you any clearer. I’ve told you repeatedly that I will share anything on Scott or this case when I know something.”

That may be so, but I knew there was something else going on here, perhaps not the case directly, but he was definitely keeping something important from me. “Neco . . .”

“I have to go.” He swiped up his keys off the counter beside me and headed to the door. He glanced back at me before he walked out, “Be careful at work today.”

“I always am,” I said, a massive lump forming in my throat.

He didn’t say anymore, just slammed the door after him.

* * *

I stripped off and stepped into the shower, washing the sweat from my still overheated, achy body. I’d managed to sneak in a training session with Zeke after work, and loved every minute of it. The classes I’d been doing had been great, they kept me strong, but Zeke had taken it a step farther. Our first lesson here at the apartment had been short and he hadn’t really gotten an idea of my skill level. It’d felt pretty great today when I’d surprised him. Okay, I’d only gotten the better of him once, and only because he didn’t know how advanced I was, but the look on his face had been extremely gratifying. After that, he’d kicked my ass. Repeatedly. But he took the time to explain, like last time. Making sure I was using my body to its full advantage.

I’d lost a lot of confidence after Scott got the better of me, more than I wanted to admit. And it felt good to build that back up.

I climbed out, quickly dried off, and pulled on some clothes. I’d worked very hard all day at not thinking about Neco and our argument this morning.

Why he felt the need to keep whatever this was from me.

What it could mean for us.

My eyes drifted shut and I fought back a wave of emotion. I could only assume, whatever this was, he thought he needed to protect me from it. I knew the way Neco’s mind worked better than anyone, and that’s the only thing it could be. From the time he was old enough to do it, Neco had been looking after his mother, had spent his childhood terrified for her. But he hadn’t been able to protect her, the most important person in his life. Not until he was much older. It had been too late. He couldn’t protect her from herself. And I knew how much that killed him.

So yeah, I understood why he was acting the way he was. Why he was locking me out. Fear, plain and simple. I just didn’t know how to get through to him, to get him to open up to me.

I was in the living room when my phone started ringing. I scooped it up and checked the screen.

I didn’t recognize the number.

“Ruby,” someone said, before I even had a chance to speak.

“Scott?”

“Please, listen to me. I . . . I need to talk to you. I messed everything up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promise I won’t hurt you again, but I need you to meet me. It’s important. Please.”

I despised Scott. He’d attacked me, used me, filmed me, sent images of me to some sicko perv website, but he had the answers to all my questions. There was more to this whole thing, the way he attacked me, the things he was saying. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now.

I didn’t try and get it out of him over the phone because I wanted to know where he was—I intended to bring him in, and this time he wouldn’t get the better of me. I was going in prepared.

“Where are you?”