“Are you joking?” She turned her head, putting her ear closer to the door. Her ears were pierced up the sides, four baby rings in the one closest to the peephole. If I slid a pencil through them and ripped, her scream would be delicious.

“I’d love to be joking but I’m not. And thanks to whatever idiot didn’t unlock me this morning, I missed a package a hell of a lot more important than Simon’s drugs.” Redirection. The glitter that distracts an ugly lie.

She swore and I smiled. A moment of success before I realized I was still locked in the apartment. “Do you have the key?” A painful question to put out, one that put me on my figurative knees before her.

She chewed on her fingernail and that told me all I needed to know. I slammed a palm on the door. “Open the door.”

“I’m not supposed to open the door until I have the package.”

“Aren’t you a cop? What are you doing picking up drugs for your brother, anyway?”

She looked up. “They aren’t drugs.”

I laughed, hating the peephole for a brief moment. In its skewed view, I couldn’t tell if she actually believed the crap spewing from her mouth. “You know they’re drugs.”

“My brother has a lot of problems.” She looked down the hall. “It doesn’t make me love him any less.”

Problems? Join the freakin’ club. “Enablers don’t love. They ruin.” I know this. I enable myself every day, and look at me. A mess of indecision and barely controlled hell.

“Well.” She ran the wet fingernail down the front of my door, and I hated the action.

“Well.” I repeated. “Where’s the key?”

She glanced to her right, toward Simon’s apartment. “In the apartment.”

“Get it.” I should have added a please but I’m not good at pleases and thank-yous. Especially not for this chick.

She didn’t like it. I saw it in the narrow of her eyes, the step back she took. I closed my eyes and tried to relax my vocal cords. Tried to sound pleasant when my mouth opened and words came out. “Please. Do you mind getting the key? I’m going a little stir-crazy in here.”

She stepped closer, like a kid to an aquarium tank. She, the grubby toddler, I the lazy shark who stared through the glass and dreamed about eating everyone in sight. “Why do you lock yourself in, anyway? Simon says its because you sleepwalk.”

Why ask a question that you already have the answer to? I swallowed that question and tried to continue the ridiculous pleasantries. “I do. This isn’t really the neighborhood to wander around in in the middle of the night.”

She laughed, tucking her hands in her back pockets. Good lord, please tell me this woman isn’t wanting a friend. “You’re right about that. This place is a shithole.” She winced. “No offense.”

“None taken.” I fought the urge to ask for the key again, society’s prerequisite for idle chitchat not quite fulfilled. “How long are you staying?”

“Not sure. I’m looking for a place now.”

“Do you mind getting the key? I’ve got to get to the pharmacy.” I shouldn’t have said the pharmacy. That would remind her of the drugs. I should have said the grocery store… or the post office… or wherever normal individuals head on Saturday afternoons.

She tilted her head, pulling down on the front of her shirt, the move deepening the V of her cleavage. Hooker. “Sleepwalking isn’t that big a deal. I mean, people do it all the time. There’s got to be something else you can do.”

“You’re right. My mistake. I’ll stop this arrangement with Simon and let him get his drugs somewhere else. I’ll be sure to tell him you suggested the change. Thank you for clearing up my night issues; this conversation has been so helpful. Now, since he’s not locking me up anymore, I won’t need to pay him with pills. Unlock my fuckin’ door or else I’ll call the cops and tell them you’re keeping me against my will.” I tried to be friendly. I really did. But the woman had it coming. Refusing to unlock my door. Making stupid suggestions about things that she knew nothing about.

Hooker didn’t like my response. She stepped back, her face hardening.

Then I heard the elevator.

CHAPTER 45

Past

JEREMY RODE THE elevator with two packages, both with Deanna’s name on them, only one that would go to her. He shook the smaller of the two, the rattle inside causing his frown to deepen. Two floors before he’d have to deal with that punk. He rolled his head back, the pop in his neck doing little to alleviate his stress. Deanna needed a new system; there had to be another option. Hell, he’d offered ten times to do it. Better him than Simon. Just the kid’s name gave him the creeps.

When the doors opened, the first thing he noticed was Chelsea. He hated that he already knew her by name. Hated worse the small lift that hit his step, the surge of testosterone that quickened his heart. Sexual attraction, that’s all it was. Nothing that compared to Deanna. Nothing that tugged on his heart the way her smile did. It was only a man’s ingrained reaction to a female, pure human nature. He didn’t see Simon, and smiled for that reason. Only that reason.

Closer, he saw her scowl, her eyes drop to his parcels, heard the low hum of her voice as she said something toward Deanna’s door.

“What’s going on?” He stopped a step away, pulling his arm out of reach when she reached out, an aggressive move, his body turning to keep her at bay.

“Don’t give it to her.” The growl came from Deanna’s door, and was laced with venom. He turned his head, surprised. Deanna wasn’t exactly the kind to hide behind a door.

“Is that the package for Simon?” Chelsea stood on his other side, her hand still reaching for the parcel, a finger pointing toward it accusatorially. “I thought you said he already came.” That comment she directed in Deanna’s direction, and he went from confused to completely lost.

“I lied.” Satisfaction in Deanna’s tone.

“I’m not unlocking you unless he gives me the package.”

Whoa. What? Jeremy turned his focus on the blonde. “She’s locked in?” He stepped forward, and her face blanched a little in response.

“Simon told me not to unlock her. That she had a rule about being unlocked—”

“Liar!” The scream through the door was so livid that Chelsea jumped.

“Jeez,” she huffed. “I’ll go get the key. No need to get your panties in a wad.” She looked at Jeremy, holding up her index finger. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She stepped backward, holding eye contact with him.

“Hurry,” he spit out. When she shouldered open the door to the apartment, he turned his head to Deanna’s door. “What the hell did I just walk into?”

“I’d have convinced her to unlock the door.” Deanna’s voice had dropped ten octaves in anger. “But this works too.”

“You shoulda called a locksmith. Or me.”

“I don’t have anything else to do today. It’s been mildly entertaining. But yes, a locksmith was my backup plan.”

He leaned a shoulder on her door. “This reminds me of old times.”

She laughed, her muffled voice closer, and he imagined her leaning against the frame. “Our courtship? Miss it?”

“I’d say yes, but the sex is too good.” He grinned and heard her laugh. Yes, having her in person was ten times better than from afar.

“Good point.”

Three doors down, Chelsea reappeared, a key chain in hand. Her face stony, she came to a stop, dangling the keys out, waiting for Jeremy to step out of the way. He stayed in place and held out his hand for them.

“Let’s trade.” She nodded for the package.

He tilted a head toward Deanna. “The boss says no.”