Desperately Devastated (Addicted To You, Book Nine) (6 page)

I pulled up my internet browser and went to Boston.com to see if there was anything about him. My stomach was sick, and I sensed that whatever it was—the news had to be very bad for the FBI to contact me the way they had.

And right on the first screen of the website, my eyes were greeted by a headline that made my stomach drop as if I’d fallen off a cliff.

LOCAL MAN’S BODY FOUND IN WALDEN WOODS: FOUL

PLAY SUSPECTED

Next to the headline was a picture of Jimbo, looking a couple of years younger and more clean-cut than he really was. Jimbo in the picture was smiling, with a full head of normally styled hair and clean-shaven.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as I strained to read the article through my beer-fogged vision.

The article said that a jogger had been trail running in the woods near Walden Pond when he’d come across a body thrown into a nearby ditch. The police were investigating, but apparently there was enough damage to the body to indicate that it was a homicide. It also mentioned that Jimbo was a professional fighter but didn’t say anything about The Slaughterhouse gym.

I stared at Jimbo’s picture and thought about the first time I’d met him, being forced to fight him in that sweaty, blood soaked cage of Quarry’s gym. Since that day, we’d become friends, and I thought of him as someone that I’d know for the rest of our lives. As it turned out, that had been true—but not in the way I’d imagined.

Suddenly, a retching sickness overcame me and I ran to the small bathroom of the bar, pushing my way into a stall and falling to my knees, sick as I’d ever been.

After I was done, I sat there on the floor of the stall, dazed and dizzy.

Someone murdered Jimbo and now the FBI wanted to talk to me about it.

Could things possibly get any worse?

The answer was obvious: yes. They could get worse, and based on how my life seemed to be going, they would get worse. It was only a matter of time.

I got off the floor and slowly left the bathroom. Everything around me was spinning, blurry and unfocused. My mind was swirling and thoughts were scattered.

For some reason, I decided to call Agent Driscoll back. I knew I was in no condition to have an important conversation, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. Besides, I needed to find out what he knew about Jimbo’s murder.

I found myself outside the bar with the cell phone pressed to my ear.

He answered on the first ring. “Where are you right now?” he asked, a tension in his voice that was unmistakable.

“Don’t worry about me,” I slurred.

“Are you intoxicated, Justin?”

“Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

He sighed. “I think you should come and speak to me in person. I’m in D.C. but we can get you a flight out first thing in the morning.”

“I’m not going to D.C. to talk to you,” I said, swaying a little, pressing my back against the cold brick wall of the building. A punk couple with piercings, tattoos and combat boots strode by me, holding hands.

“You’re not safe on the street anymore,” Driscoll said. “Do you understand that?”

“Do you know who killed Jimbo?” I asked him.

There was a long pause. “No,” he said, finally. “But we have our suspicions.”

“I don’t see why I’m in so much danger. You think whoever killed him wants to kill me, too?”

Another long pause. “I can’t be sure. But we need to be very cautious.”

I shook my head as the whole thing started to click into place. “Jimbo was working with you, wasn’t he?” I asked, my voice shaking with rage and frustration and…a cold sliver of fear.

“Yes,” Agent Driscoll said. “We can’t be sure, but it’s possible that someone found out he was cooperating with our investigation of Quarry Davenport.”

“Jesus, you must think I’m a fucking idiot,” I whispered.

“Justin, listen to me.”

“No, fuck that. You listen to me, Driscoll,” I spit. “You screwed up and got my friend killed and now you want to screw around with my life too?” My voice was getting louder and louder. A bouncer glanced at me from nearby.

“Calm down and let’s talk about this.”

“You probably don’t even know if there’s someone leaking shit to Quarry from inside the FBI, do you?”

“It’s far more likely that James told somebody who told Quarry.”

“You don’t know that, though. Do you?”

He didn’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Listen to me, Justin. You are not safe anymore. The biggest mistake we made was underestimating Quarry and the best chance is for you to come to D.C. and meet with us so we can establish a plan for your safety.”

“I’m not going to do that. And don’t contact me again unless you plan on arresting me.” I hung up the phone and put it in my pocket. No more phone calls, I decided. That one had been bad enough to last me awhile.

The bouncer was giving me a cautious sidelong glance. I stared back at him.

“Something bothering you?” I challenged him.

“Nope,” he said, looking away and shaking his head.

“Good,” I said, my hands still shaking. “Now let me back in. I’ve got some drinking to do.”

A minute later, I was back in the bar and the beer was flowing again. There was no thought involved, nothing except my decision to get as blasted and fucked up as I’d ever been in my life.

I wasn’t talking to anybody, I wasn’t socializing or partying.

No, the point was to forget. Forget everything.

Some hours later, the bar closed down and I stumbled out into the dark and mostly empty street. My awareness had narrowed down to the smallest pinpoints of blurred vision and echoing sounds that mixed together in my brain like some new, strange cocktail.

After stumbling along for a bit, I didn’t really even know or care where I was anymore. A sensation of overwhelming exhaustion overcame my whole body and soul.

Not long after that, I tried to keep walking but couldn’t do it anymore.

I told myself I’d simply sit down for a minute and try and recoup my energy and get sober.

But seconds after sitting down on the sidewalk beside an old jewelry store, my back against plate glass, I was asleep, and didn’t wake up again until the morning.

LINDSAY

When my alarm went off the next morning, I felt exhausted, and even though I had a faint memory of tossing and turning, I felt like I’d just shut my eyes a few minutes ago. There was a weird empty feeling in my stomach and my heart was pounding in my chest. I took a few deep breaths and then threw off the covers.

I checked my phone and saw that Justin still hadn’t responded to anything I’d sent him. For the first time, it hit me that he might have gotten together with another girl.

Just forget about him. Wherever he is, he’s not worth getting so upset that you
screw up your career opportunities. He’s the one who chose not to come back to the
room or even so much as text you where he went.

I took another long shower, then took my time drying my hair. I rummaged through my makeup bag until I found a sample of concealer I’d gotten at Sephora a few months ago. At the time I remembered thinking I would never use it, but now I was thankful I hadn’t thrown it away. I did my best to cover the dark circles under my eyes, then did the rest of my makeup.

I blew my hair straight, ran my straightening iron over it, and then slipped into the dress I’d borrowed from Rachel. A fresh pair of black hose and a pair of black pumps completed the look, along with sophisticated looking chunky silver jewelry. I surveyed myself in the mirror and smoothed my hands down over my dress. I didn’t look half bad, I decided. It was true I was no fashionista, but I at least looked professional and put together.

I still had about forty minutes until I was supposed to meet Carter to go over the powerpoint one more time, so I headed downstairs to the lobby in search of coffee. There was a coffee bar against the far wall. A bunch of businessmen in suits were clustered around the counter that held the carafes, talking as they poured creamer and sugar into their paper cups.

Were they here for the kickoff meeting? I wasn’t sure, but suddenly, I didn’t feel prepared to face them if they were. The lobby felt hot, and I decided I needed some air. I slipped out onto the streets of New York, taking comfort in the craziness of rush hour.

Car horns honked, heels clacked against the sidewalk, and people barked into their cell phones.

I spotted a coffee shop across the street, so I went inside and ordered a spiced pumpkin latte with a shot of espresso. Despite the long line and my slow pace walking back to the hotel, I still had about twenty minutes until I was supposed to meet Carter in the business center on the sixth floor.

The thought of going back to my room and sitting there by myself was depressing

– I didn’t want to be reminded of Justin, about the fact that he wasn’t there. I already had my laptop with me, so I headed for the business center. I could go over our powerpoint one more time on my own, make sure we hadn’t missed anything. My mind felt like such a mess it was probably a good idea I reacquaint myself with it before Carter got there anyway.

When I stepped out of the elevator on the sixth floor, my phone buzzed with a text. I looked, expecting it to be Carter.

But it was Justin.

I’m fine. Coming back to the room now.

My body instinctively turned back to the elevator. But then I stopped.

Why should I go back to the room? So he could give me evasive answers about where he was and what he was doing all night? So I could get all upset before I had to meet Carter and then spend my day at the kickoff meeting obsessing over Justin?

Fuck that. Justin and his late night secrets weren’t important right now. What was important was focusing on what was happening today, being an asset to Carter, and proving myself to Dr. Klaxton.

I kept walking.

The conference center was at the end of the hallway, and it looked kind of like a fishbowl – frosted glass windows surrounded it on all sides. As I got closer to the doorway, I could hear voices.

Carter.

And Dr. Klaxton.

I hesitated, not sure if I should walk in or not. I was early, and maybe Carter had made a plan to meet up with Dr. Klaxton before he met with me.

“Yeah, well, it needs to be better,” Dr. Klaxton was saying.

“I’m not sure how much more I can push it,” Carter said. He sounded stressed.

They must have been talking about our powerpoint, and my heart sank. We’d worked so hard on it, and now Dr. Carter was saying it wasn’t good enough.

“Well, push it more,” Dr. Klaxton said.

“We’ll get caught.” Carter’s voice had a different tone to it than it usually did when I saw him around Dr. Klaxton – usually he sounded very polite, referential, maybe even a little bit scared. But now he sounded challenging.

“We won’t.”

“But if we – ”

“If we don’t, it’s done. So do it.” The tone of Dr. Klaxton’s voice sent a weird chill down my spine. He definitely wasn’t talking about the powerpoint. So then what was he talking about?

I heard the sound of a briefcase shutting, and so I turned around and walked quickly back to the elevator. I rode it down to the lobby and then back up to the sixth floor.

When I stepped back onto the carpet, my stomach felt like it had turned inside out and my knees were weak. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the up-and-down elevator ride, or because of what I’d just heard.

What exactly had I heard? What had they been talking about?

I started back toward the conference center, this time making sure I made a lot of noise. I coughed, shuffled my shoes against the rug, and rummaged through the papers in my bag.

But when I got to the business center, Dr. Klaxton was gone.

Carter was over against the far wall, his laptop open on the desk in front of him.

He turned when I came into the room and gave me a smile. “Hey,” he said.

“You’re early.”

“I know.” I smiled back and set my computer bag on the chair. “But so are you.”

I waited a beat, wondering if he was going to mention the fact that he’d been meeting with Dr. Klaxton. But he didn’t. “Have you been here long?”

“Nah,” he said. “Just a couple of minutes.”

“Oh.” My voice sounded strained, and Carter swiveled around in his chair so he was looking at me.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I searched his face. He was still smiling, but I could see the stress on his face. There were dark circles under his eyes – faint, but they were there. Normally I would have chalked it up to his being nervous about the powerpoint, but now I wondered if there was something else going on.

Stop,
I told myself.
You’re being crazy. Just because you don’t know what they’

were talking about doesn’t mean it’s something shady. They don’t have to tell you
everything.

But still. Something felt off.

“Should we get to work?” Carter asked.

I nodded, relieved to have something to focus on. This whole thing with Justin was probably just getting in my head, making me suspicious of things that weren’t even an issue. It was just another way he’d invaded my existence.

We sat down and started going through the slides, making tweaks and changes, sometimes for something as simple as a color, sometimes adding a whole slide to make things more clear.

When we got to Slide Fifteen, the one that announced our preliminary findings for the first phase of the drug trial, Carter shifted on the seat next to me.

“This is wrong,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I frowned, reading over the slide, which showed that the drug was making people lose weight seventy point four percent faster than just diet alone.

“It’s not correct.”

“It looks right to me.”

But Carter was reaching into his bag and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “It’s not seventy point four percent better,” he said. “It’s eighty-two percent better.”

“No,” I shook my head. “Carter, it’s right.” The seventy point four percent rate of loss was the most important figure we had. It had been repeated over and over and over. It was an insanely good rate, which showed that the drug was very effective when it came to weight loss. Of all the facts and figures we’d been dealing with, it was the one he shouldn’t have forgotten.

“No.” He pulled out a piece of paper and showed it to me. “These are the new figures. We just got them in last night.”

I looked down at the paper while Carter changed the slide. Sure enough, it was a new data set, and the value of success was set at eighty percent more than with just diet alone.