One look at her and that’s obvious. Part of me didn’t expect her to open the door for me either. “I’m surprised I came, so that makes two of us.” When she looks up at me, I’m not sure how I feel about the way her eyes take me in. Don’t know what I think about the fact that we have shit in common or that her look is familiar to me. I give it myself.

Bee stands, walks around to the front of the desk, and then leans on it. “If we do this, can we keep things from getting awkward?”

My answer comes automatically. “I can if you can. It was one night. We don’t know each other and I’m never with someone more than once anyway.” I’ve shared this strange sort of honesty with her tonight that makes my body overheat. I want all the words back because they’re a part of me and I don’t want anyone to see who I am, but this is it. Saying these things to her is the only way to get what I want.

“Now that you’ve asked your questions and realize this isn’t a game to me, I need to know if we’re doing this or not.”

Silently she walks toward the door and opens it. I hold in the groan, pissed at myself for fucking this up again and even more pissed that she’s in control.

Bee turns toward me, her blond hair messy from sleep, but it’s another thing she doesn’t care about. It doesn’t take away from how sexy she is either.

“We’re doing this. Don’t make me regret it. Now I need to get some sleep and then we’ll talk tomorrow about a schedule.”

I let out the breath trapped in my lungs. Thanks, echoes through my mind, but all that comes out is, “Cool. We’ll talk later.” Then I walk out the door.

Instead of going home, I head to the high school. It’s such a dumb fucking thing to do, but like I’ve done other nights, I jump the fence and head to the football field. Sitting in the middle of it, I let my eyes trace over the whole thing, trying to remember the time this used to be important to me. And trying not to concentrate on the fact that even though I got something I want, something I need, I still want to take out the fucking world because of everything I’ve lost.

Chapter Five ~Bee~

KIDNAPPED GIRL HOME AFTER NINE YEARS IN CAPTIVITY

It was just like any other week when four-year-old Leila Malone went to the park with her mom. It was their Monday tradition. They played on the swings and the slide, which her mom, Katherine, said was her favorite. But on this Monday, Leila happened to slip away from her mother.

“It wasn’t a minute. Not a minute and she was gone. My baby is gone!” Her tearful mother had cried that day. There were searches and news conferences to follow. Private investigators and even psychics.

“I’ve never seen a family like the Malones. They fought the good fight and have never given up hope on finding their little girl. They love her more than anything,” Detective Harris had said when he announced the case had gone cold. That didn’t stop the Malones. The pictures never went away and anyone living in Virginia, maybe even the United States, knew the name Leila Malone, but nothing worked. It seemed their little girl was lost forever.

Until now.

Nine years after little Leila went missing, she’s back home with the family who never stopped looking for her… who never stopped loving her. It’s a miracle, and the world could use more of those. The two people who were responsible for taking her away from her family are safely behind bars, where they won’t be able to hurt anyone again.

Good luck, little Leila. We’re so glad you’re home where you belong!

Opening a folder in the locked drawer in my desk, I stuff the old newspaper article back inside. I try not to think how Melody and Rex never hurt me, like the person who wrote it said. They did hurt me according to everyone else, and I get how that’s true. My brain knows it is because they kidnapped me. They took me from my parents. It’s my heart that has trouble remembering it because the truth is, even though I struggle with the concept of love, I didn’t always. And when I remember who taught it to me, it was them because they’re the only ones who hold my early memories.

These are the things no one will ever read about. How at first it wasn’t a miracle for me—I’d been taken from my family. I was scared and hurting and felt guilt for those feelings.

My eyes sting, because I still feel all of those things.

Before I let myself go through the hundreds of other articles in the drawers—the ones documenting my parents’ search for me, and the trail afterward, and the pictures of Melody and Rex, I shove the drawer closed again. I’m not sure why I even started looking in the first place because all it does is make me feel when I don’t want to.

It’s been a couple days since I agreed to let Maddox in my shop. He comes in for a couple hours every day. I hate to admit it, because I almost hoped he’d screw up, but it hasn’t been bad. He’s up half the night working at Lunar, but he never shows it when he’s here in the afternoons.

Even though I’m not the first person to work with him, he still studies everything I do. He watches me clean equipment and does everything exactly the way I tell him to. His dedication annoys me, even though it shouldn’t. He’s new, but he loves it, and it feels strange having that in common with him.

For the millionth time I look at my cell. It’s almost 3:00, which means Maddox will be here any minute. It’s been slow as hell today and I’m hoping we get someone in not just because I want to work, but because it also helps when the scratch is here. We’re both quiet and even though I’m glad he’s not talking my ear off the whole time, it’s awkward as hell.

When the door opens, I don’t look up, knowing it’s Maddox. Instead I turn to the computer to pull up my playlist so we at least have some music to listen to.

“We have anyone scheduled today?” he asks.

Now I let my eyes find him and wish he wasn’t so gorgeous. He still has that dark stubble on his jaw, which I’ve always found sexy, and eyes that are this unique shade of gray, with long black lashes.

Eyes aren’t really something I’ve ever cared about drawing or tattooing, but for some reason, I think I’d like to draw his. I’d like to see if I could get the curl of his lashes right and the tone of his gray.

“Nope. Hoping for some walk-ins, though. It takes a while to build up clientele.”

He nods before sitting in one of the chairs. Maddox crosses his arms, and I can’t help but take in the long, toned muscles as they constrict with his movement. It’s crazy looking at him sometimes, because there’s always this edge of anger right below the surface. I see it almost come out, but he always finds a way to hold it back. If I thought he’d ever really let it out, he wouldn’t be here. Still, it’s definitely always there, making me wonder what he has to be so pissed about.

But then there’s something in there that reminds me of Trevor too. Not that I know him really, but he has that pretty-boy look. He’s the type of guy who was popular in school and played sports and probably slept with the cheerleaders.

It doesn’t fit, but I see that in Maddox too.

“You’re staring at me.” His voice is calm, even, like it doesn’t really matter to him one way or the other.

“So?”

My reply seems to unbalance him, but he recovers quickly. “You’re looking at me like you want a replay of our first night. If you don’t stop, I’ll be watching you the same way and that’s something neither of us wants.”

A shiver runs the length of me, but I don’t try to hold it back. I might not get with him again, but I’m not usually one who holds back on what I feel physically. What’s the point? It’s who I am regardless of if I’m Bee, Leila, or Coral. I’ve fought hard to make sure I know that.