"Wait here," I said, heading into the guy's bedroom.
From the open doorway, Becka said, "But wait, shouldn't I—"
"Keep an eye out? Yeah, good idea." I didn't need a lookout, but I didn't need her trailing after me either.
As I took a closer look around, I asked a few more questions. In reply, Becka explained that the girl who'd rented her the condo was off on some college internship in Chicago, which is why the place had been available for the summer.
I wasn't buying it.
As Becka watched from the open doorway, I rifled through the guy's dresser drawers and then searched through his closet – keeping half an eye on Becka as I worked. From the look on her face, she wasn't liking any of this.
Too bad.Sometimes things need doing. And this was one of those times.
I finished by looking under the guy's bed and then between his mattresses. From start to finish, the entire process took me less than ten minutes.
I was just shoving the top mattress back in place when Becka said, "This is so wrong."
Maybe.But it wasn't nearly as wrong as what he'd been doing toher. The way I saw it, the guy was getting off light.So far.
When I made no reply, she said, "Seriously, we should stop."
I moved away from the bed. "All right."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Sure." I headed toward the doorway. "Whatever you say."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're only saying that because you're done, aren't you?"
"You could say that."
"It figures." She was quiet for a long moment before asking, "So… did you find anything?"
During my search, I'd revealed nothing and offered up no commentary. Now I eyed Becka with reluctant amusement. "What happened to 'This is so wrong'?"
"Well…" She shrugged. "Ifyouknow, I should know too, right?"
"Maybe," I said. "But first, I need you to do something."
"What?"
"Move your car."
Chapter 8
Becka
An hour later, I was sitting in the condo's living room with Jack. The room was dark and quiet, leaving me feeling unsettled for reasons that had nothing to do with my creepy roommate – who still hadn't returned from who-knows-where.
I was perched on the edge of the couch while Jack occupied the easy-chair across from me. It was a funny choice, considering that there was nothing easy about himorhis demeanor.
His gaze was hard, and his jaw was tight. Just before sitting down, he'd turned the chair so it faced the front door, which meant that I had all the time in the world to study his profile through the shadows.
Thisshould'vebeen boring. But it wasn't. His profile was very fine, just like the rest of him. His legs were long, and his muscular arms were so defined, I swear, I could see hints of their lines and ridges, even in the near darkness.
But all of that was just a distraction.
Not only was henottelling me anything I needed to know, he'd continued to scoff at my insistence that I could handle this on my own. The last time I'd mentioned it, he'd told me – and I quote –"Sorry, not gonna happen."
