Page 11 of Parting Shot

The sound about shredded what little control I had left. Hurt and tired, with the last of my buzz wearing off, I was damn needy. “You maybe wanna see me?”

Silence.

“Aaron?”

“Yes, please,” he murmured. “I would love to see you. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“No. It’s not safe. You tell me where you are, and I’ll come to you.”

“How about this instead?” he said shakily. “You walk one street over from where you are, and I’ll be there in a car in ten minutes to pick you up. Deal?”

“What if I’m not in the city?”

“Fine. However long it takes,” he huffed out. “Where are you?”

“Tenth Avenue and Forty-nineth Street.”

“That’s marvelous. I’m only minutes from you. I’m staying at The Pierre on Fifth.”

“I don’t know that place. Is it fancy?” I teased.

“It is.”

Of course it was.

“Okay. Will they let me in?”

“You’ll be with me.”

“True.”

“So … are you working?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

“But not until Monday.”

“Oh?” His voice rose, and I could hear the reprieve and happiness.

I made a noise that didn’t quite qualify as communication.

“Do you think you would want to stay with me for a couple of days?”

“Yeah. Ya know, I was thinking of flying back to Chicago just to see you,” I said without even thinking of how scary psycho it sounded. “Awww shit.”

Several long moments passed, but I was too panicked to speak. I had no filter because of everything, and now I would pay for it.

“You were thinking of returning to Chicago for two days simply to see me?”

“Well, three actually,” I corrected him. “But … yeah.”

Quick, sharp exhale. “Well, Detective, I must tell you, that’s, like, one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”

It was? “It is?” I was baffled. “Shit, who’ve you been hangin’ out with?”

“People who like my money,” he said, clipping the words. “I’m leaving now. Are you able to walk?”