Page 52 of Reckless Devotion

“Partly,” Chase agrees, taking a sip of his take-out coffee. “The East River meets the harbor here, so it’s not all ocean.” He uses a bear-like paw to quietly move me to his other side, away from the car that zooms by.

I roll my eyes and tear them away from the appealing visage he presents in mid-blue jeans and sneakers. He also wears a grey waffle-print sweater even though it’s sunny, to account for the coastal breeze that travels inland.

“How would you feel about going away for a few days? I have a place in the Hamptons, Sunny is on summer break. We can even take Mr. Clay so that we can keep an eye on him.” He throws the offer out casually, stepping out of the way of a solo jogger coming the other way.

“You’re asking me to go away with you?” That sounds like a terrible idea in light of yesterday. I still can’t quite believe it happened, and actually it seems better that I pretend it didn’t, so I won’t question that too much. I lift a hand and brush my lips absentmindedly.

“I mean, it would be nicer to unpick this thing on a beach, versus my office, no?” He glances down at me, his face neutral. It’s the sentiment that led us here, taking a midafternoon stroll along the waterfront after hours of researchto try and chase down suspects. “And I’m sure Sunny would rather babysit Mr. Clay by the pool, if she had to.”

I tilt my head, finding that logic hard to disagree with. Sunny is currently—begrudgingly—keeping Mr. Clay company in his cat-scented apartment while she tries to diamond art. The picture he’s painting feels horribly tempting, given it’s not too far off what I had planned to go and do with Sunny this summer anyway, before our trip got canceled. Although, we weren’t going anywhere near as fancy as the Hamptons. Oh how the other half live, picking up and popping to the Hamptons for a bit of sunshine and sand whenever the whim strikes.

“Watch out.” A large hand clamps around my upper arm and tugs me softly to one side a second before the sunlight above me is cloaked for a moment.

“What?” I try to tug my arm away and peer around the mass of muscle and fine Italian fabric that’s shielding me from the path.

Peering around his brawny arm, my lips pop open in surprise. At least twenty people of all shapes, colors, genders, and sizes sail past us at speed. A running club in and of itself is not a cause for wonder. But this? This is different.

All dressed in neon spandex with glow stick arm bands and necklaces, paired with the odd leg warmer and fluffy sweatbands, these people dance and run at the same time. One guy closest to the railings leaps into the air and pirouettes, his eyes closed and a free smile on his face before he lands on his feet again and continues. They all share one thing, besides the whacky running gear: flashing disco-light headphones with Disco Therapy Running Clubscrawled on the over-ear cap.

“Wow.” I blow out a breath, a smile touching my lips as one woman with glittering umber skin sashays her hips to a beat we can’t hear.

“Fucking New Yorkers,” Chase grunts, moving me a pace away and finally letting me go.

I’m too entranced to notice, and a little flame of excitement kindles in me at the thought of telling Sunny. She would freakinglovethis.

“Come on, party people!” an older woman in a deep pink shell suit and neon bobbled pigtails yells at the front, clapping her hands above the air.

I’m not the only one who has stopped to look. Tourists scramble to flash photos and even seasoned New Yorkers look amused.

“Watch it, dude,” Chase gripes as a man with a rotund belly peeking out beneath his disco crop top powerwalks past with disco fingers in the air a little too close.

“Oh, will you lighten up, Wolf Boy?” I slap his arm, watching the dazzling group jog and dance ahead.

“I’ll lighten up on one condition,” he rumbles. “You agree to come away with me.”

I’m not sure if it’s the sunshine and salty scent, the tantalizing mental image of Sunny enjoying a well-earned vacation on the beach, or some of the joy I just absorbed via osmosis from the colorful running club, but I only hesitate for a moment.

“Fuck it, let’s go.”

Chapter 20

Chase:Did you do something inappropriate to that voodoo doll you have of me? I just got a tingle.

Pepper:I don’t have a voodoo doll of you.

Chase:You threw it away? Aw, cute!

Pepper:Or it didn’t exist in the first place.

Chase:Does this mean we’re best friends now?

Pepper:No.

Chase:Oh.

CHASE

I stroll into the open door, spotting Evelyn at her desk with her whole face buried in one hand.