Follow by Tessa Bailey

Author:Tessa Bailey [Bailey, Tessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Tessa Bailey
Published: 2017-10-27T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Will

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring down at the phone cradled in my hands. Since this morning, my associate in New York has left several missed calls but no voicemails. He knows better. But a significant part of me wishes he had so there would be no one to witness my reaction to whatever he found on Teresa.

At least I’m prepared for the worst, right?

Being blindsided is a million times more fucked up in comparison. It hasn’t been long since the last time the fabric of my beliefs was ripped down the middle. In the short space of time I’ve known Teresa, her mere presence has sutured the wounds I’d thought permanently numb. But with one phone call, I could just as easily be creating newer, fresher ones.

Thinking of how she withdrew from me in the bathroom, I push to my feet with a curse, pacing toward the wall. As soon as I make this phone call, everything is going to change, isn’t it? There was guilt written all over her, plain as day. And I can’t ignore the possibility that she’s working for one of my competitors anymore. All I can do is find out the truth, confront her with what I know…and after she attempts to claw my eyeballs out for going behind her back, we can work toward a solution. One that involves me exacting a promise she’ll never lie to me again. Preferably while I’m banging her through the cowhide headboard.

Unable to put off the call anymore, I hit the speed dial and hold the phone to my ear. Just like this morning, a faceless voice answers, keys punching in the background, before stopping abruptly. “Yes.”

“What did you find?”

I close my eyes and wait.

“Nothing.”

My eyes fly open. Disbelief crashes into hope in my stomach. “Nothing?”

“Can’t connect her to anyone at a single New York firm, and that includes employees, family members, known associates. I crosschecked several times, right down to their fucking dog walkers. Still working on getting her airline travel records—give me until tomorrow on that—but she purchased a Greyhound bus ticket online last week. Four more over the course of several days, along with some motel charges between California and Texas. She looks legit.” He clears his throat, a few keys clicking on the other end. “Teresa Valentini. Age twenty-three. Studio City address. Brother Nicholas. Parents deceased. The only information of note is her employment situation. It’s pretty dicey. Underground gambling facility in Sun Valley that has seen an uptick of violence lately, leading to some scrutiny from the police.”

“Violence.” That word—so vile when associated with Teresa—is the first to cut through my shock. She’s been telling me the truth about everything this entire time? Have I become such a cynical prick that believing in this girl was impossible for me? Lightness crawls into my veins, but a weight drops in my stomach, thinking of how I doubted her. I want to kick her bedroom door down, take her in my arms and apologize until I lose my voice.

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