Page 47 of Unbound

Again, the corner of his mouth twitches. “No. It does not.”

“In that case, I’m fine.” I walk over to his desk, plopping down in the seat I’ve occupied for the last three days. “I’m just going to sit here and go through more of the documents you scanned at the police station.”

The amount of material three people were able to collect in such a short period of time is actually really fucking impressive. Unfortunately, most of what I found on the flash drive either isn’t a part of the investigation around his mother’s death, or is so benign it offers zero help figuring out what happened.

Walker tucks his chin in a half nod of acknowledgment before turning toward the door. Pausing before opening it, he shifts his attention back to where I sit. “I know you’re just looking through all of that to figure out what happened to your dad, but I still appreciate you doing it.”

His words settle around me. They don’t feel quite as accurate as I’ve been trying to believe they are.

“I’m not just trying to figure out what happened to my dad, Walker.” I hold his eyes, hoping he can see how much I mean what I’m about to say. “I want closure for you too.”

I know talking about his mom is difficult for him. I’ve tried really hard to respect that, holding back all the questions I have. I know at some point I might have to ask them, but I want to put it off as long as possible. I don’t want to make him suffer any more than he already has.

Walker stares at me, his expression unreadable. After a few long seconds, he tucks his chin in another acknowledging nod before sliding out the door, leaving me staring after him, my chest tight.

I’m sure I haven’t dealt with my father’s death in the healthiest of ways, but at least I can think about him. Talk about him. Keep his memory alive. I have to wonder if part of the reason Walker is so quiet is because he’s terrified that if he talks too much, memories of her might try to creep out. The day he lost her could come close enough to hurt.

The possibility makes me sick to my stomach.

Leaning forward, I rest my forehead on the leather mat covering his desk. “Fucking hell.”

“Yikes.”

My head jerks up at the unexpected voice. Maren is standing just inside the door to Walker’s office. Her dark eyes narrow on me, and I’m a little concerned it’s because she’s trying to figure out the fastest way to murder me. It’s still looking pretty likely I’m responsible for her beloved Trevor getting shot in the leg, and I’m sure she’s come up with at least ten ways to kill me without getting caught because of it.

“It’s way too early for you to be having a shitty day.” Maren closes the door behind her, crossing the room to take the chair directly across from me.

“It’s never too early to have a shitty day.” I stand, feeling a little antsy under her shrewd gaze. “You want some coffee?”

“No thanks.” She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as I collect my beverage from the maker. “I came here to talk.”

Of course she did. Again, never too early to have a shitty day.

Maren has always been a little chilly toward me, even before the shooting, so I can only imagine what she wants to talk about. I slowly lower into Walker’s chair, girding my loins for whatever I’m about to face. “What do you want to talk about?”

Maren leans forward, eyes locked onto mine. “Why don’t we start with how bad you want to fuck Walker?”

15

Walker

Idon’t like how long Maren’s been in my office with Sybil. Under normal circumstances, I would think the two of them might be a good fit. I’d be less concerned about them hurting each other than the two of them jointly coming up with an evil plan for world domination. But right now they’re not on the same side. In fact, it’s very likely Maren considers them enemies.

And that has me concerned for the state of my office and wondering how difficult it is to get blood out of carpet.

“Hey, boss.” One of the forklift drivers saunters up to me, giving me a slap on the back. “You look pissy.”

Obviously not pissy enough, or he wouldn’t be bothering me right now. “Do you need something?”

“Not really.” He crosses both arms over his chest, scanning the warehouse. “I was just wondering where Lindsey’s been.”

The eyes that have been on the door to my office for the better part of the past half hour snap to his face. “Why?”

Caleb is a decent enough employee, and an acceptable forklift driver. But he’s definitely not the kind of man who has any business wondering where Lindsey is. I’ve heard him talk about the girls he’s fucked on more than one occasion.

Loudly.

At the time, I was pretty sure he was full of shit. I can’t imagine there’s a line of women queuing up to get naked with a guy whose fingernails are always filthy and frequently smells like the liquor he consumed the night before. But what the fuck do I know? I’ve never had a relationship last more than a few months, so obviously I’m not an expert on what women are looking for in a partner.