In Too Deep (6 page)

Wes was practically a high school celebrity at the local skate park. Flocks of girls sat on the curb watching him for hours. I’d been stupid enough to think he was mine when we started dating. I’d been on that ride before, and had no plans to get back in line.

MJ cuts into my private thoughts, continuing on. “Colt’s philosophy was if Jewel wasn’t strong enough to withstand that, she wasn’t cut out for this anyway. He didn’t even feel bad. I question if he has human emotions at all.”

I do my best to see only his bad qualities, which is difficult, since none of them are physical.

“Logan, pass me that flask.”

He gives me a strange look, but hands it over. I take a long swig, swallowing down the gasoline flavored tequila, but it does little to quench the uneasiness inside me.

Chapter
10

I stretch out in bed and try to shake the image of Taylor from my mind. She’s off limits, which makes keeping my thoughts clean right now even more difficult. I replay the way she drank from that flask. Determination burned in her eyes, as she licked the amber-colored liquor from her very kissable lips. That image is seared into my brain whether I like it or not.

But a girl like Taylor would never
be happy with a once-and-done type of a guy. Which I remind myself doesn’t matter. I enjoy my lifestyle and I’m not looking to change that, no matter how bad I’d like her in my bed. I had it made – a different girl every weekend, more money than I knew what to do with and adrenaline pumping assignments. I wasn’t about to throw that away for a girl who would want commitment and romance. No thanks. That shit never works in the end anyways.

I’m not looking for a relationship, but figure there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting, especially when it seemed to have such a profound effect on her. Showing her the slightest attention left her flustered and pink-cheeked. And call me masochistic, but I liked provoking that response in her.

If I was smart, I’d ignore Taylor. Which shouldn’t be difficult, given there are several other girls I can and will entertain myself with. Then no one would get hurt, especially me. But somehow thoughts of her creep in before I can block them out.

I absently twirl the leather strings on my right wrist, which I caught myself doing whenever I felt anxious, which for some reason this girl makes me. She keeps me on edge.

I pick up my phone, scanning through my contacts, trying to put faces to the names of girls I’d bothered to enter. I scroll through and pick one at random, and wait while it rings.

“Hey. It’s Colt.
Come over and keep me company?”

When I hang up the phone, a pang of regret
claws inside me. I shake the feeling away. This is the only way, even if I am starting to have mixed feelings about it. I lay back against my pillow, knowing I have time to wait before she gets here. I close my eyes and try to relax. I hate how on edge I’ve been since Taylor arrived here. I haven’t felt this off in a long time. I run my hands over my face, remembering back to a time I don’t often think about.

My mom died my freshman year of high school.

That first year was hell. I returned to school two weeks after her funeral and I wasn’t prepared for the sad looks everyone gave me, and the fact that every teacher seemed willing to cut me endless breaks. I wanted to hide, to forget everything that had happened, but everywhere I looked, everywhere I went, there were constant reminders, both at home and at school.

I eventually got that chance to hide from all that
sadness. At a party one weekend I met a pretty junior named Jess, but instead of pity over my situation, she took mercy on me and said she was going to help me to forget. The first time I came that night, I pretty much forgot my own damn name. I had been a shell, a walking broken shell my entire freshman year, and that night I found a way out. A way to forget about all the sadness and sorrow in my life, if only for an hour. Being with her that night was like a revelation. I’ll never forget it.

Of course at the time, I’d been stupid enough to think that our night together meant we were going to start dating. When she realized I was only a freshman, she’d laughed and patted my chest. She told me I was fun, but in no way dating material. That’d stung, but when I realized it was better that I didn’t get attached to anyone, I
knew she’d actually done me a favor. She’d woken me from a long and tortuous depression and showed mI could actually be happy again.  Well, if not truly happy, at least distracted from the aching sadness.

I spent every weekend after chasing after girls. It wasn’t hard. I’d grown to well over six feet by then and looked much older than fifteen. I never really examined my actions too closely.
And now I’ve been doing it for so long, it’s just part of my survival instincts. Sex was the only closeness I got, and I couldn’t give that up. And I couldn’t risk love when it had the probability of ending so badly.  

Chapter 11

After turning in the Russian assassin assignment to McAllister,
I receive my next assignment.

Wil
-tech has been contracted by the descendants of a royal family in Lithuania. Their once-trusted financial advisor Lars stole priceless artifacts and jewels from their bank vault and disappeared. He’s now surfaced in Germany, trying to sell the stolen goods. My job is to figure out who his buyers are and where they plan to meet. McAllister says once we know the rendezvous point, he’ll send Colt and a few members of the team in to take him down, stolen goods in possession.

I’ve worked for hours trying
to break into the network he’s using, but it’s no use. They have some type of firewall that I might be able to infiltrate only if I was operating under the same network, but that’s not going to happen. He’s in Germany. I’m in Connecticut. I even used MJ’s translation skills, but it didn’t help.

I may have to
break the news to McAllister that this one is beyond me, but I want one last go at it in Independent Study today.

W
hen I walk into the computer lab, McAllister is waiting for me. Colt is with him. They’re talking in low voices and stop abruptly when I enter the room.

I sit down in the chair across from them. I assume McAllister is here to give me my next assignment, but Colt’s presence confuses me.

Once I’m seated, McAllister pulls a black envelope from his jacket pocket, but he makes no move to hand it to me. “I trust you know Colt?”

M
y eyes flick to Colt’s. He’s watching me too. I can tell by his flushed cheeks and by the pulse jumping in his neck that they’ve been arguing about something. I don’t think I’d have the guts to argue with McAllister about any subject. It makes me even more curious about why he’s here.

McAllister clears his throat and hands Colt the envelope, but looks over toward me. “The two of you will
team up on this assignment.” While that’s still sinking in, McAllister turns to me.  “This case hasn’t gone as expected, so you’ll be getting field experience earlier than anticipated.”

I’m not sure how I feel about this news
. This is all still so surreal.

“But I’m sure you know you’re our only computer programmer here,” McAllister continues.

I nod.

Colt is quiet.

“You leave in the morning.”

“Leave?” I question.

“
I’ve received a tip from an informant and Lars is in Cleveland for the weekend. You’ll be traveling there for the job. Shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”

Huh.
Me and Colt? Alone. In Cleveland. Well this is an interesting development.

A moment later
Colt stands. “Meet me at nine out front.” Without waiting for me to respond, he leaves.

I break the news to MJ
and Logan that I leave in the morning. They’re shocked that I’m already assigned field work. But MJ helps me pack.

MJ holds up a pair of my jeans and makes a face, tossing them aside.

I snatch my jeans back. “These are my comfy jeans.”

“Oh yes, and comfort is the key
spending a couple of nights on the road with the hottest instructor in school.” She smirks. “These are cuter.” She thrusts a pair of skintight black jeans inside my bag.

What
am I getting myself into?

In the morning, I head downstairs
, backpack slung over one shoulder and step outside into the circle drive in front of the school. Colt’s leaning against a sleek, black BMW that gleams in the sunlight. He looks smug and perfectly unkempt in a wrinkled button down shirt and jeans.

As I head toward him, he doesn’t even try to conceal that fact that he’s checking me out.
I keep my chin high and pretend not to notice that he’s visually molesting me.
You can look all you want, buddy, but you’re not getting any of this.

I walk past him, and open up the back door, tossing my backpack inside, then set my laptop bag on the seat beside it.

He opens the car door for me. But before getting in, I turn and face him. “We need to get something straight.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“This will be strictly a business arrangement. Understand?”

His lips slip into a smile. “Obviously. What did you think it was?”

Oh, right. I sound like a complete jackass.
“Nothing, never mind. Let’s go.” I slip on my sunglasses and slide into the car. The interior is sleek and black, trimmed in shiny silver. Classy. As I pull my door closed, I notice it smells good in here. Like cologne.
Well that’s distracting.

Colt
gets inside, and tosses the black assignment envelope on my lap.

It’s been torn open along the flap and I slip the single sheet of paper from inside as Colt pulls out, kicking up gravel in his wake.

I read over the assignment while Colt turns on the music.

Hi
s phone is buzzing as soon as we start moving. He answers it as he maneuvers us down the single-lane drive toward the main road.

“Yeah?” he answers.

I can tell it’s a girl’s voice coming through the speaker, but I can’t make out what she’s saying.

“Listen,
Bria, we already talked about this.”

He listens to her for a few seconds more, then cuts in again. “
I know, and it was fun. But I was clear about what I wanted from the beginning.”

He listens to her
carry on for a few moments; her voice raised just enough for me to detect the anger in her tone. I cringe into my seat. I know how bad it sucks being dumped.

“
Look, I’m sorry you’re upset, but there’s nothing more to talk about. I’ve gotta go.” He clicks the phone off.

Damn, that was harsh.
I shake my head. “Nice, Colt.”

He straightens in his seat. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

I wave my hand. “No biggie. I’ve been briefed on how you roll.”

“How I roll?” He pulls out onto the highway, picking up speed.

“You know, with the ladies?”

His mouth
tugs down in the corners.

“Look, I’m not judging. It’s your life. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

He’s quiet for a second, and he focuses on the road. “If we’re going to work together, I don’t want you thinking I’m a douche bag.”

Too late.
“Don’t worry about it.” I wave him off. I turn and look out my window, watching the pine trees pass by in a blur. For some reason, my mind wanders to Wes.

We dated for five months
earlier this year. One night, with his parents out of town, he’d made a bed of blankets in front of the fireplace. It was the first, and last time we slept together.

He was distant the next day when we talked on the phone, and then didn’t answer my calls or texts for the next two days. I found out online that he’d be snowboarding with his friends that Sunday, and I drove down to the ski hill and waited in the lodge all afternoon. I had to know what was going on. I finally met up with him in the parking lot. He and his friends were sweaty and laughing as they made their way to his truck. His face dropped when he saw me.

He said he didn’t want to be tied down, and things had been getting too serious between us. Serious? No shit. Three days before, he told me he loved me and took my virginity. When I reminded him of that, he just said he didn’t want a serious girlfriend right now. His friends stood beside his truck, loading their boards inside while he broke up with me.

I didn’t even wait for him to finish, I turned and walked calmly to my car. I
needed to get away from him before I broke down. I went straight home and spent the afternoon hacking into his personal files, social networks and email, intent on making his life a living hell, all the while tears streaming down my cheeks.

Colt keeps the music playing low, one hand on the wheel, his face relaxed. I watch him drive from the corner of my eye.
His shirt sleeves are rolled up, his arms are tone and tan, and wound around one wrist is a woven bracelet made up of individual thin strings of leather.

And after a little while, I’m feeling bold.
“So what’s with the bracelet?” I make a point of looking at the strings on his wrist.

He glances down at it, his brow drawing together.

I wonder if it’s from one of his many admirers, and what memory it’s conjured up.

“It was my mother
’s,” he says, surprising me.

Oh.

“She wore it as an ankle bracelet.” He smiles. “And I did too, when she first gave it to me, until I got too big and it didn’t fit. Then I moved it to my wrist.”

Colt turns
up the music and I know the conversation is over, but I’m left wondering if there’s more to the story.