I Broke Into His Office (Love at First Crime Book 4) Page 5

  A million thoughts and emotions are knocking me around inside, but nothing I can grasp.

  “No,” I end up admitting, my voice hitching.

  “Get my cell out of my pocket,” he gasps out, and I quickly do, glad he seems to have a straighter head on than I do.

  I place the cell in his hands, and he winces down at the lit-up screen as he makes a call.

  “Joey? I need some help.”

  Chapter 5

  I don’t crawl into bed until after three in the morning, and I do this gingerly and carefully. After making another statement to the police and getting checked over by paramedics, I was deemed bruised but not broken and allowed to go home.

  I barely managed to see Harvey again. He stayed on his cell for most of the time we were being looked over. It seemed he was attempting to find footage of the men who attacked us on any nearby security cameras and figure out what happened and why.

  I didn’t tell the police about what the man said to me. I didn’t mention it to Harvey, either. Just like I didn’t admit the restaurant has a security camera facing the back.

  I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling admitting it was my father’s doing will bring more attention to me. If I’m going to be expected to do whatever it is my father wants of me, then I don’t need the police or Harvey looking any closer at me.

  Right now, it’s being thrown around that it was a hate crime. It’s not impossible, taking into consideration the kisses Harvey and I shared in full view of the street and outside the restaurant, as well as the fact that Harvey had his arm around me as we walked. But I know better, and I am furious.

  Even in prison, my father can still ruin my life.

  So, with my promising night ruined, I barely bother to shower properly before I pull all my covers up over me, wincing at my uncontrollable shivering, which makes my side ache.

  The heating in my apartment is shit. In fact, the entire building should be condemned. But it’s cheap, close to the restaurant, and I barely spend six hours a day inside, only sleeping. Nevertheless, winter sure does suck.

  Eventually, I get to sleep, but I constantly find myself waking up and checking my phone, worried to miss Dad’s call.

  I don’t know Harvey well enough to call him a friend, but I am a decent person. Knowing his life is in my hands is not something I’m taking lightly.

  By the time eight o’clock arrives, I am tired, sore, stressed, and freaked out.

  My phone ringing jolts me out of bed. I almost fall over a fallen blanket in my haste to reach out and grab it.

  The number is an unknown cell number, which makes sense since I have no idea whose phone Dad will be using.

  I want to get his call out of the way so I know what sort of situation I’m about to find myself trapped in, but I’m also dreading it.

  “H-hello?” I stammer out.

  “Nix, it’s Harvey.” Harvey’s voice is like a soothing balm as all my bunched-up nerves suddenly release.

  “Hey,” I say on a heavy breath, collapsing back on my bed.

  “We need to talk. Can I come up?”

  “Up where?” I ask dumbly.

  “Your apartment. I’m outside.”

  “Oh.” I quickly glance around at the mess my apartment is. I don’t tend to care how it looks, and in terms of a hookup, I don’t give a shit, either. For a talk, though, it’s not up to par.

  “Come on, man. I got coffee,” he throws in.

  I’m sold.

  Who gives a shit how messy my place is? Besides, if he’s interested in less talking and more fun activities, well, I won’t say no to the distraction.

  “Just come up. It’s not locked,” I tell him, quickly throwing the fallen blanket over my bed and trying to straighten it up.

  “What?” he growls, causing me to pull up short.

  “The door is—”

  “You live in a building that doesn’t even have a locked fucking door?” he snaps.

  I smile again at the notion of Harvey being annoyed at my protection, or lack thereof.

  “Yes. Are you coming up or what?” I ask.

  He just hangs up on me.

  I’m not sure if that is confirmation or not. I don’t even know if he knows my apartment number, but if he can figure out my building, then he likely has that information already.

  With nothing left for me to do, I lean against my kitchen counter, wincing at the view of glasses and mugs overflowing my sink, until I hear the knock at my door. To be honest, it sounds more like the pounding of a fist.

  I glance through the peephole and find Harvey glaring at my door like he’s glaring straight through it to me. He’s wearing similar clothes to last night, except he has on blue jeans and a white shirt. The belt and leather jacket are the same.

  Fuck, he’s hot.

  “Hey,” I say again, waving him in before closing the door behind him.

  He passes me the foam cup of coffee while taking in my appearance. In my concern over what my apartment looked like, I forgot what I look like.

  I’m wearing warm sweats and the fluffy slippers my mom bought me. I haven’t even looked in the mirror, so I’m positive my hair is likely the worst case of bedhead you can get. I shudder to think what my face looks like now that I have bruises to add to my likely sleep-deprived face.

  He will absolutely want to jump me now.

  “Shit,” he finally mutters, shaking his head as his eyes move to take in my apartment.

  There isn’t much to see. A crappy TV that doesn’t hold most channels, a couch that is torn in places and missing the armrest on one side, a coffee table full of old magazines and a forgotten block of chocolate. There is enough space for a four-seater table against the corner wall. That means you can only seat two, which is good since I only have two chairs. The kitchen is tiny, and I also have a small bathroom and one bedroom to match. That is my entire apartment.

  “So, how are you?” I finally ask, hoping to catch a glance at my reflection in the microwave, even if it will only give me an outline of my wacky hair and not the bruises, as I take a sip of the slush he calls coffee. It’s cold and over-sugared and milked, but it feels rude not to drink it, so I try to gulp it down as quickly as possible.

  “Fucking pissed,” he growls out, his attention back on me.

  “Right, of course. Do you …?” I glance at the couch, but decide this isn’t likely to be a couch discussion. “Want a seat?” I point at my kitchen table then quickly rush over to move the paperwork I haven’t yet shuffled back to the restaurant.

  Harvey doesn’t verbally respond, but he does take a seat, his legs wide so that, when I sit down, I bump into his thigh.

  “I want you to tell me what happened last night,” he demands, his voice still stern.

  “What? You were there—”

  “I know,” he snaps, sounding irritated. “But I want to hear it again from you.”

  “Why?” I feel uneasy now, unsure what Harvey’s intentions are for this talk.

  I feel the shit coffee settling heavily in my stomach. Perhaps gulping it all down wasn’t my best idea.

  “Because I read your statement to the police,” he says over crossed arms and an intent stare.

  “Okay …?”

  “And I was able to get your restaurant footage from last night. Interesting how you never mentioned the camera looking out into the back lot.” He narrows his eyes on me, whereas mine widen at his revelation.

  “How did you get my footage?” I gasp, worried when his body seems to tauten further.

  “I know a guy. So, tell me, what happened last night? And before you try to spurt the shit you told the cops, realize that I saw that guy talking to you. I saw him holding a fucking knife to you.” His eyes flash to the cut on my cheek that still has a bandage covering it. “And I saw how freaked out you were over whatever the fuck he said.”

  I gulp, pretty freaking intimidated under Harvey’s anger. “I do have a camera looking out the back, but it isn’t that good,” I m
utter, trying to buy some time to think.

  “You collapsed as soon as he let you go!” Harvey snaps. “Don’t fuck with me on this, Nix. What happened last night? What did that asshole say to you?”

  I stare down at my hands. Mine are pale and clean, while Harvey’s are bruised and bloodied where his knuckles have split. He fought last night, where I mainly just took a beating.

  How pathetic.

  “Nix?”

  “It was someone who works for my dad,” I finally admit.

  “Why didn’t you say something last night?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, keeping my eyes down on the table between us, eyeing the evil coffee cup, which I now realize contained lead and not coffee, going by how it feels sitting in my gut.

  “What else did he say?” Harvey pushes, tapping his foot impatiently.

  I don’t think I can lie to Harvey. There isn’t much point. He will find out sooner or later, and since it’s his life on the line, he deserves to know, right? Even if this will definitely kill any chance of us getting closer or having some fun together.

  Typical. I finally meet a guy who I am incredibly attracted to, and my father cockblocks me to epic proportions.

  “Nix …” Harvey growls, and I shove away how that gravelly voice saying my name like that makes me feel.

  “He said there was a hit out on you that my dad ordered. Yesterday, he took the hit off, but he wanted me to know how easily he could get to you. The knife was there to tell me how that guy could easily …” I struggle to keep going. “He said he would put it through your heart.”

  “Fucking assholes!” Harvey’s outburst shocks me, but I don’t look up at him, not wanting to see the anger and disgust that my father put a hit out on him.

  How messed up is all this?

  “He said, if I want to make sure you stay alive, to expect a phone call from my father soon, and to be sure to pick up when it rings, or else.”

  Harvey stands quickly, the chair shooting back behind him but not falling over as he begins pacing my small apartment. He’s running his hand through his hair, his mind clearly a million miles away. I can’t take my eyes off him.

  To have him here, with me, feet from my bed, is indisputably meant to torture me.

  I shift in my seat, causing my side to jar and wincing at the shot of pain running through me.

  “That fucker,” he finally mutters. “I should have seen it coming. I should have been prepared.” His aggravation grows with each turn of his body.

  “No one could have seen last night coming,” I console him, not that he seems to be paying attention to me.

  I watch him pace the room, only managing a few steps before he has to turn. Before I get a headache from the constant turning, I glance back down at my hands.

  Harvey is clearly thinking through something. I doubt there is anything helpful I can say at this point. I doubt even a sorry will suffice for the mess I helped land him in.

  “Why do you live here?” he asks out of the blue.

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong with—”

  “This is a shithole,” he unapologetically exclaims, waving his arms around us as if he’s pointing out the evidence to back up his claim.

  I follow his wayward arms, already knowing my apartment isn’t exactly ideal, but I’m not sure why he is bringing it up at this point.

  “Are we seriously having this discussion after what I just admitted about my dad?”

  “Why do you stay here? You must have a reason. Are you being forced?”

  I bark out a laugh, not even sure what to make of that.

  My apartment is so bad that Harvey assumes I’m being forcibly held here?

  “You’ve been here two seconds; how can you tell it’s a shithole?”

  He gives me a look, one I can’t exactly read, since I don’t know him well enough yet. “The building’s front door doesn’t lock, only one lift works, there are holes and rodents littering the hallways, the heating is either not working or you have incredibly thick skin, and lastly, your place looks like a junkie at the height of their addiction decorated it.”

  “Harsh,” I mutter, yet knowing my belongings leave much to be desired. I just never saw the point in spending money on a place I spend almost no time in.

  “Nix,” Harvey snaps, snapping his fingers.

  “I don’t really know what this has to do with anything, but whatever.” I shrug. “I stay here because it’s cheap and close to the restaurant. I’m aware that it isn’t the greatest, but I’m lucky if I am here longer than six hours a day. I don’t see the point in wasting money on a nicer place or stuff when I spend basically no time here.”

  “Your protection is important,” he snaps.

  I don’t know whether his concern is adorable or annoying.

  “And in the many years I have lived here, nothing has happened.”

  “We were attacked last night!”

  “I don’t think it would have mattered where I was staying, or whether there were a bunch of people with us, or if I was on my own. I had a message coming, and those guys were going to deliver it.”

  “You get a lot of messages delivered like that?”

  “No,” I assure, hoping this won’t be a new normal for my dad. “My dad has basically left me alone for years. Last week, when he came to the restaurant, was the first time I saw or heard from him in years.”

  “And his exact instruction was to what?”

  “Get whatever information you had and make sure I gave it all to him. I guess he didn’t realize how far it had already gotten.” I shrug, wishing I could have seen the look on his face when he was arrested. “Mom had already bugged me about your Christmas party, so I thought that would be a good time to …” I trail off, recalling all the damage not only I inflicted, but also the men on my father’s orders. “How is your office?” I glance up at him, noticing he stopped pacing. His eyes are on me, but I don’t know if he’s actually seeing me. He seems distracted.

  “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  “How did you explain your door?”

  Now his eyes do focus on me, and I watch as his lips twitch. “That one was a little harder to explain.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I’ll pay for a new one, and the drawers, as well,” I add, recalling the door wasn’t the only damage I inflicted.

  “I’ll add it to your bill,” he casually throws out.

  “My bill?” I ask, wincing again when I shift back on the chair and knock my bruised side into the corner of the table.

  “Yes. Where are your pain meds?”

  “Why?” I grunt, shifting so my side has less pressure on it.

  “You’re obviously in pain. Have you taken any this morning?”

  “No, I—”

  I quickly stand as he takes off, heading straight into my bedroom. I barely make it to the doorway before he is shoving a couple pills in my hands then moving past me and opening drawers in my kitchen.

  I wince since most are empty. I hardly ever cook in my apartment, so the only real things I have any use for are mugs and glasses, which are almost entirely piled up in my sink.

  Finding a clean one, he fills the glass with water and passes it to me with an expectant look, like he won’t take no for an answer.

  I don’t bother arguing. I’m sore and had planned on taking something after he left, anyway.

  I sit back down at the table, pop the two pills, and hope they do their magic soon.

  “Good. Now, where were we?” Harvey asks, sitting back down.

  “Look, I’m sorry about all this. I know this is messed up, and I promise I’ll fix it. Whatever my dad wants, I’ll sort it out.”

  “No, you won’t,” Harvey counters.

  “You want me to ignore him so the hit can go back out on you?” I sound as incredulous as I feel.

  Is he insane? Does he have a death wish?

  “No, but I am going to be here when he makes that call. I want to know what’s going on, and th
en we’ll figure this out together.”

  I shake my head, not just because I have no idea when Dad is going to call, but because I have a life I need to get to. I can’t just sit by my phone, waiting forever. And spending any sort of time alone with Harvey while he’s wearing that freaking leather jacket is worse torture than I could have imagined.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s going to want me alone for the call, and alone for whatever he wants me to do. I don’t think you tagging along is going to be high up on his list of what’s okay.”

  “You leave that to me. For now, we hear him out, and then proceed from there.”

  Probably easier said than done. Waiting patiently isn’t exactly a strong point of mine. What if he doesn’t call me for days? I would probably go insane. As it is, I barely slept a wink last night. How can I survive days of waiting?

  “I bet you wish my mother never hired you. Now you’re getting shot at, beaten up, and you’ve had a freaking hit out on your head.” I shake my head, still not believing this has become my life.

  Harvey suddenly rests his hand over my clenched fist, bringing my attention back to him. He looks less agitated.

  “I’m not angry at you or your mother. I’m angry at your father. I don’t regret taking this case. He is scum and deserves to be in prison. I wouldn’t change a thing.” He sounds adamant, except he then grimaces. “Well, maybe I would have changed how much attention I was giving our surroundings last night. But I don’t regret meeting you.”

  I crack a smile, feeling a little better to hear this. Then again, I doubt anyone would regret a blowjob.

  “Also, just putting this out there, if I knew what was going to happen last night, I would have fucked you in your office yesterday while I had the chance.”

  I gape at his words, my body flushing with heat. I turn my hand under his to hold his hand. This is a much better conversation.

  “I’m sure that can still be arranged,” I offer. However, from my sore body and his much better hidden injuries, I don’t think any sort of sex could feel all that great between us at the moment.

  Harvey squeezes my hand, but with his lack of enthusiasm, I think I’m not about to get shot down from any possibility of this happening in our future.