Hour by Hour (Games & Diversions #2) (7 page)

Even a week ago at the party—after Ana discovered us in the office—we verbally jousted for another twenty rounds.

Floyd “Money” Mayweather couldn’t have lasted a second in that room with us.

My thoughts flash back to last week, to that tiny office—and I feel Elena’s verbal slap as if it were right at the Starbucks table.

“
Great
,” she started in on me after Ana left, brushing her blonde bangs backwards.

“We might as well broadcast ourselves to the entire world.” She tugged on the sleeves of her sweater and pulled the Post-It note off her ass.

I tried hard not to stare at it.

I spoke to her turned back. “What were we supposed to do?
Not
let Ana in?”

“
Probably!”
She huffed, rearranging the papers on the desk.

“You gave me the go-ahead!”

“I know…” she sighed. “But I don’t need people knowing about…
this.
”

She spewed the last word with an undercurrent of disgust, and suddenly, I was inexplicably enraged.

“What are you—
ashamed of me
?”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone knowing about us!” she shouted, slamming a stapler down. “You made that
very
clear the night of the engagement party.”

“I said
a lot
of things I didn’t mean the night of the engagement party.”

“
Right
… like how you said it was a bad idea to have been with me all night.”

I grew still, reaching a frustrated hand toward my face.
Did I really say that? There’s no fucking way I would do that…

Or maybe I did.
Everything that happened after discovering my vandalized car became a blur.

“Shit.
Elle…” I grabbed her busy arm from behind. “Elena, you have to know that I didn’t mean that. My car had just gotten destroyed.” I hesitated. “I… I wasn’t thinking.”

She stiffened, but didn’t face me.

“It’s just a
car
,” she stated softly. “You call the police, they find out who did it and then
they
handle it.”

“No.” The word came out as an unintended growl. “My car was practically pitted and filleted that night. And then they…” I trailed off, not wanting to say the rest.

“I want retribution,” I said instead.

Elena snorted, finally whirling towards me, her blonde hair whipping across her face.

“You rich, snooty types. One car is not enough. You’ve got more money than the law should allow and anything less is not good enough.”

My hand was still on her arm; I pulled her closer to me.

“Don’t talk to me about wealth, Elena. You don’t know shit about what I had to do to make it.”

She snatched her arm back, glaring up at me. Her blue eyes were ice-cold.

“Oh, I’m sure riding Foxx’s coattails all the way to the top was tough.”

Her words dripped with scathing hot sarcasm. I saw red.

“I think you’ve got that
backwards
, Elena.”

Her indignant expression dropped and was replaced with confusion. Her blonde brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

What
do
I mean?—I thought. I shouldn’t have said that. This wasn’t Elena’s business.

“Forget it,” I snapped hastily. “It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

I turned my back on Elena, shutting the office door on her with a dull thud.

The sound of a thud snaps me back to reality—snatching me out of my memory and dropping me right back into Starbucks. Chris’s hand lands with a smack against the table in front of me.

His sea-green eyes are staring back at me, his brows twisted in a knot that looks almost comical.

“Bro…
what
is going on? I don’t know how to talk to you these days. I swear you’re in another dimension.”

I blink hard, shaking my head. “It feels like it sometimes…”

I can tell Chris is still confused, but I can’t explain.
Something
is going on—not just with
me
, but also
around
me.
Around all of us.

I don’t know what it is… or
who
…

I stand, crushing my now-empty cup. “Speaking of other dimensions, let’s get out of here and back to work. I need to check on something.”

***

We leave the Starbucks in silence, each seemingly lost in our own thoughts as we head back to work.

I glance at Chris out of the corner of my eye, wondering if maybe I could’ve picked a different woman to lie about.

Chris has always had some sort of soft spot for Trina. In fact…
he was the one that introduced us
.

She was his type: a beautiful, funny, slightly nerdy type of girl—a real square when I met her.

Until she fell hard for me…

She wanted a taste of my lifestyle so I gave it to her. I was twenty-two at the time.
How was I to know that she would tumble so far down the rabbit hole?

I was a reformed drinker, not a
drug user
.

Inside the café, Trina was the best substitute I could come up with for Elena. I figured maybe if Chris thought something was going on with Trina and me, he would let the Elena thing go.

Maybe his attention would shift to that.
Maybe
he wouldn’t tell Foxx.

But now I’ve fucked myself… because Chris is sulking, I feel
guilty
, and whoever’s behind these “attacks” on us lives another day incognito.

Secrets beget more secrets.

If it’s one thing that I know, it’s
that
.

And ever since I’ve kept one monumental secret, everything surrounding it has started to unravel.

I’ve emotionally abandoned Chris.

I’ve alienated Elena.

And now an assault that opened against me has started to spread to
Tripping Out!...
and I
still
haven’t told the truth.

Nobody knows about the note but me.

The note
that some
twisted
sicko left to aggravate me after destroying my beloved car. A note that
someone
used to bait me—to let me know that they knew something I
didn’t
want revealed. Something they could hold over my head.

At the time, I had believed that jealousy was the culprit—that an envious Trina took her frustrations out on the thing I treasured most.

But when I saw the
Tripping Out!
hack, I knew it was just the beginning. Nothing’s happened since… but who knows how far this
game
will go?

Whoever it is… he or she is clearly having fun at my expense.

It’s all I can think about the entire way back.

The weather is dreary as we traverse the few blocks to our office building. The front lobby that houses the security desk is virtually empty.

Our shiny shoes echo loudly on the tiled floors, and Chris and I are staring so intently at them that we barely notice the unnatural solitude.

Or the unseemly man that interrupts it…

He walks quickly past us with his head down and if I wasn’t so intent on keeping my gaze on the floor, I might’ve missed his black sneakers crossing my path.

Sneakers—running shoes. In an office building.

It takes me several seconds to realize how
odd
the sight is. I finally look up.

The man is dressed casually in black jeans and a navy top. I observe him over my shoulder as he passes the front stairs going in the opposite direction. He’s heading towards the front entrance.

There’s something
strange
about the way he carries himself—as if he’s trying to appear smaller than he is. It’s a hard feat—the man is six-two, six-three—
easy.

Long. Lean. His hair is dark and shortly cropped. He walks with the gait of a man with a purpose.

There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t place it…

I tap Chris’s shoulder for his attention. He looks up at me, and I lean into him.

“Do you see that guy walking back there?”

He glances backwards.

“You mean the guy walking towards the exit?”

“Yeah. He look familiar to you?”

Chris gives another glance over his shoulder, slowing his stride.

“Not particularly.
Why
? Does he to you?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why. He just kinda looks like… like…”
Greg Sears.

I can feel the color drain from my face. “It looks like Sears,” I say to Chris. I stop, focusing my eyes on the man still heading towards the glass doors.

Chris stands still beside me.

“
Sears?
As in
Gregory
Sears?”

“Yeah.” I squint harder.

“As in
Kat’s ex-boyfriend
? Kat’s
ex-boss
?”

“That’s the one.”

“The
asshole who fired her
?! The one that Foxx punched right in the…”

“
Yes
, Chris!” I whisper harshly. “How many other Greg Sears’s do you know?”

We lower our voices with each passing step the man takes. I can’t tell if we want him to hear us… or not.
Is it him?
And if it is…

What the
fuck
is he doing in our office building?

I don’t know what to do. Our company isn’t the only one housed in the building, but the coincidence would be too
huge
to ignore.

We watch the man walk through the first set of glass doors. He approaches the second set.

And when he does, he looks back at us.
Directly
back at us. And then… he takes off.

I run after him immediately.

My shoes start to slide on the glossy lobby floor because I am hurrying
so fast.

I don’t even know
why
I chase him, but it seems to be a natural urge. The minute someone starts to run from you, your first instinct tells you to take flight.

And that’s exactly what I do.

I chase Gregory Sears out of the office building.

I hear the hasty steps of Chris behind me as I cross the glass-encased lobby. Whether or not he does it out of dutiful loyalty or a similar instinct, I do not know.

In fact, I think very little of it. Suddenly, all I can think about is Sears… and how to get my hands on him.

He races over the small bridge outside of the exit towards the parking deck. I am hot on his heels, the black soles of my shoes slapping melodically across the tile and then across a wooden walkway.

I ignore the rain that has started to fall out of the grey sky. I ignore the slipping of my steps as I race towards the deck—tie
and
business suit in tow.

I chuck the suit jacket into nearby grass, ducking wildly into the dark parking deck in search of the long and lanky Sears.

My head swivels instinctively, my eyes searching intensely for any motion as my ears and feet follow the sound of Greg’s fading footsteps.

I sprint through a line of cars, hoping to spot him in between them. I turn a corner.

Nothing
.

I’ve lost him.

My chest heaves as I turn in circles, whipping the fallen dark hair off of my brow.

Then, the sudden screech of wheels makes me freeze.

A black Benz rounds the bend, barreling towards me. Its lights are on. It’s speeding fast. I
know
it’s Sears behind the wheel.

I don’t think; I just act.

My stance widens as I confront the racing Benz.
Where do you think you’re going?
I can feel the look of challenge on my face.

But the Benz never stops. It gets closer to me.

Closer… Closer…

The silver symbol on its front seems to wink at me. The lights beam directly into my face.
I see Greg at the helm.

My breathing is surprisingly calm…
for a man who’s about to be struck.

The thought jerks me back into sobriety. I dive seconds before Greg can mow me down.