Location: Private residence, 9516 32nd Ave
Date saved: Saturday, April 21st at 1:27 AM
— RECORDING STARTS —
[1:35:02 AM]
Nicole: Come on already.
Chase: Wait, I need to grab another—what the fuck, Kristen? How long have you had that out? Put that shit away.
[background noise]
Chase: Get off me, Nikki.
Nicole: （unintelligible）
Kristen: It’s not on, Chase. I’m just messing around.
Chase: I don’t care. Let me see your phone.
Kristen: But you look so good on camera.
Chase: What? You better not be recording this.
[background noise]
Kristen: （laughs） Or what?
Chase: I’m not fucking around. Give me the phone.
Chase: Now, Kristen. I don’t need Coach seeing this.
Kristen: You’re such a downer. Relax, I’ll delete it. See?
[1:36:09AM]
— RECORDING ENDS —
The video ended, and I stared at the frozen screen without blinking.
Just like I’d thought.
A murky mixture of feelings swirled within me. Vindication, anger, regret. I’d been so focused on funneling my rage toward Morrison that I hadn’t even begun to think about what to do with Kristen. First, she made the recording—and edited the clip to fuck me extra hard—then she sold me out for practically pennies.
At least I had the other half, time stamp and all. Should this hit worst-case scenario, at least Bailey would be spared some of the fallout. There was no way anyone could plausibly link her to the tape now.
“If you give the police probable cause when you press charges, sometimes they dig up this stuff themselves.” Vincent nodded at his phone, still in my hand, the screen having gone black. “Your audio recording, which was legally obtained, gives them a good starting point to go hunting for this. It shouldn’t be too hard to find unless the cop working the case is a total fucking moron.” He heaved a weary sigh. “Though, unfortunately, many of them are.”
With my luck, I’d end up with the fucking moron variety working my case. Problem for another time, though.
I handed his phone back to him. “Was anyone following Bailey?”
“No. But I assume you’re aware that you were being followed.”
An icy sensation trickled down my spine. “I had an inkling.” Confirming it didn’t make it any less disturbing, though.
“Another PI firm. Travers Mill. Top shelf prices, bottom tier, sloppy work. They were retained by”—he glanced down and checked his notes—“Lucas Morrison.”
No surprise there.
“How long have they been following me?”
“A month.”
Holy shit. Since he pulled the car stunt with Bailey.
He shrugged, bringing his beer to his mouth. “Like I said, they’re sloppy. Practically left behind a trail of breadcrumbs.”
“Are they still tailing me?”
“No.” The mug clanged against the table with an ominous finality. His thin lips quirked. “And they won’t be again. I’ve seen to that.”
“Wait, if no one was following Bailey, how did Morrison know all that stuff about her life?”
“Oh, Travers Mill was definitely poking around in her life.”
Another arctic blast filled my body at the idea of Luke’s minions snooping into Bailey’s personal affairs. I tried to push it out of mind, focusing on the takeaway message. They were gone now.
“But they weren’t following her like they were you,” he added. “They won’t be snooping around in her life anymore, either. Their investigator broke several laws and was too careless to conceal it properly. With that sort of leverage, you can expect them to leave you alone going forward.”
“Does that mean it’s safe for me to talk to her?”
“Yes,” he said. “Travers Mill have to let Luke know they were exposed, but you have a small window of opportunity before that happens. I’m going to tail you myself for the next few days to be sure they’ve backed off.”
A rush of air flooded my lungs, like I’d been holding my breath without realizing it.
I could see her. Talk to her. Tell her everything. Beg for her forgiveness, or at least try.
“Stewart is handling the legal end of things as we speak,” he added.
In addition to talking to the management for Los Angeles, Stewart planned to “leash that sorry excuse for a shit stain” by going straight to the source of said stain—Luke’s parents. He felt that, as lawyers, they’d be pretty receptive in light of the recording from the truck and the threat of a messy, public lawsuit. Not to mention criminal charges on top of that.
Either it would work or it wouldn’t. I couldn’t wait any longer to find out. If the coast was clear, nothing would keep me from seeing Bailey.
“Yellow.”
“Are you okay?”
“I want a kiss.”
“I thought you were getting overstimulated.”
“No, I was getting lonely up here.”
“We can’t have that. Do you want me to untie you?”
“Not yet. But I need you to make good on all this teasing soon, or I’m going to lose my mind.”
OceanofPDF.com
BAILEY
I’d insisted that Siobhan have Dallas over as planned, realizing too late how weird it would be to see him.
Cracking open my bedroom door, I listened for any signs of life. When all that greeted me was silence, I tiptoed into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Crying non-stop was shockingly dehydrating. I hadn’t ever drunk as much water as I had in the past few days.
To add to my stress, Shiv had gotten a hold of Kristen’s number for me earlier today. I was trying to formulate the right thing to say before I called. Was there really a right thing to say in this situation?
As I turned to fill my glass from the dispenser in the fridge, a text popped up on my home screen. Luke again. This was why I’d hesitated to change my number in the first place—it was a pain, and I knew he’d track me down sooner or later. Turns out I was right.
I stared at the display. Irritation sparked within me, along with another flicker of heartache. The knife was already buried so deep—the twisting of the blade was uncalled for.
With my phone unlocked, I navigated into my texts to delete the message. My intention was to erase it without opening it, but the message preview sucked me in, and I took the bait.
Luke: Trouble in paradise?
Bailey: Stop texting me, stalker.
Luke: Don’t be angry with me because Carter dumped you.
Bailey: How do you even know that?
Luke: I know everything.
Bailey: From what I hear, you have problems of your own to worry about.
Luke: What are you talking about?
Bailey: Guess I know everything too.
Luke: Everything? Did you know about his sex tape?
Luke: Told you he wasn’t who you thought he was.
[attachment]
My heart roared in my ears as I stared at his message.
Sex tape? What?
The photo thumbnail told me all I needed to know. It was of a guy with dark hair, kissing a girl while holding a joint in one hand. His face was mostly obscured by smoke.
But I knew that side profile—that jawline and that nose. I knew that hair. And those hands.
An ear-splitting crash reverberated around me then. When I looked around for the source, I spotted the remains of my empty cup covering the dark gray tile floor. My bare feet were surrounded by a glittering sea of pale blue glass. It didn’t just break. It shattered.