"Dear Mister,
I want to inform you that your other daughter is alive and safe.
TM"
I read the email in the outbox folder once again, showing it to Jennifer when she finally wakes up from her nap.
"TM is my father, Thomas McCourtney. But who did he send it to?" she asks.
"It's also addressed to an initial—WW—and the email server is one I'm not familiar with," I reply.
She sighs in disappointment.
"I'll send this to my team. I think she can trace where the email server is and hack it to find out—"
"No," Jennifer rejects my idea immediately. "That's against the law," she adds, giving me a disapproving glare.
"We'll never get the information without hacking it," I insist.
"I don't care, okay!" she snaps, stubborn as ever. "Look, we'll find another way. I might report this attempted murder to the police officially so they can start investigating—legally."
I snort. "You don't trust me," I say.
"It's not that, Scott. It's about time we hand this over to the police. It's not that I don't trust you to protect me, but it's the only way to gather evidence legally and catch the—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You want to catch him?" I cut her off.
She nods.
"You mean catch him, catch him?" I repeat, emphasizing the word.
"Well, yes…"
"Then what?!" I laugh sarcastically. "Give him a trial? Try to put him in prison?"
"Of course."
I scoff. "Do you think he's some random guy? He at least has the money to hire an assassin. Now, I don't know exactly how much that costs, of course," I lie through my teeth, "but it's not like just anybody can afford to hire a hitman. And with that kind of money, he can easily hire top-notch lawyers to get him off."
"So what do you suggest? Kill him?" she asks.
I almost say yes. But then I make the mistake of looking into her eyes—those determined, unwavering prosecutor's eyes.
"I… I don't know," I stammer, pretending to be taken aback by her suggestion. I sink onto the sofa, staring ahead in supposed shock. "I never really thought about what I'd do once I caught him."
She sighs, shaking her head at my 'stupidity.' "That's why we need to make sure we gather all the information legally. Otherwise, we won't be able to use it as evidence against him in court," she explains.
"You're right," I concede, pretending to see the logic in her argument while mentally noting that I'll just have to make sure the execution looks like self-defense.
"So, what's in the safe?" she asks, shifting the topic.
"Not much," I reply, opening the safe's door to show her. Inside are stacks of self-burned CDs and a phone.
Jennifer frowns as she picks up the phone. "Why would he put his phone in a safe?" she murmurs, mostly to herself.
I have no answer for that.
"This isn't the phone he used regularly," she continues. "I remember his phone—I used to borrow it to play games."
"Maybe it was his work phone?" I suggest.
She turns to me, eyebrows furrowed. "Why would he use a different phone for work?"
I shrug. "I use a separate phone for work," I say nonchalantly.
"You do?" she asks, eyes widening slightly.
"For me, it's easier that way. When I've had enough of work, I can just turn it off. And when I'm focused on work, I can turn off my personal phone," I explain. "Is that weird?"
"I don't know," she mutters, still processing. "Should we check what's on these CDs?"
"He doesn't have a CD player—at least, not in this room," I say, shaking my head. "I already searched everywhere after realizing his laptop doesn't have a CD drive."
Jennifer sighs. "So there's nothing we can do right now?"
-
We end up spending the night walking along the riverside. I managed to convince her to go out for dinner, and we ate at an Italian restaurant where I ordered a bottle of wine to help ease her mind.
Jennifer barely ate, but she drank more than half the bottle herself.
Which is why, right now, she won't stop talking about her childhood.
I mostly nod and throw in a word here and there while keeping a firm grip on her shoulder to make sure she walks straight.
"I had my first kiss here," she giggles. "My best friend, Pete, stole a kiss from me on our way home from school. Eighth grade," she adds with another giggle.
"Why are you giggling? Was it good?" I ask, leaning my elbows against the fence lining the river.
She shakes her head. "It was terrible! I slapped him and ran home crying. I actually believed I'd get pregnant from it," she confesses before laughing.
"You thought you could get pregnant from a kiss?"
She shrugs. "That's what I was told," she says. "When I finally got my period, I was so relieved."
We both laugh. Then, silence falls between us as we each retreat into our own thoughts.
"Why do you help me, Scott?" Jennifer asks suddenly, turning to face me.
"Why go through all this trouble to protect me?" she presses when I don't answer immediately.
"We were blown up together, remember?" I remind her instead.
She nods. "Well, yeah… but most men would have just withdrawn. Or even run away from me, knowing I'm a danger to them."
"I'm not most men, I guess," I say smugly.
She chuckles. "Or maybe you're just smitten with my… performance."
"Maybe," I murmur, locking eyes with her. "You must have had one hell of a great teacher."
She laughs. "Or maybe I'm just a brilliant student."
"Perhaps," I whisper.
My face inches closer to hers. Her lips are slightly parted. I can feel the warmth of her breath.
Her eyes—those beautiful green eyes—long for my kiss.
I close the gap, pressing my lips softly against hers. She kisses me back.
Our hands find the backs of each other's heads, deepening the kiss. She moans when my tongue slides into her mouth, meeting hers in a slow, hungry dance.
I suck the breath from her lungs.
"We should stop," I whisper, reluctantly pulling back, resting my forehead against hers. My breathing is uneven.
"Why?" she asks, her voice hushed.
I chuckle. "You said you wouldn't give yourself to me because you're not my girlfriend," I remind her.
"What if I changed my mind?" she whispers, nibbling on my lower lip.
I groan. My body aches for her.
I kiss her again, unable to help myself.
"You're drunk. You'll regret it tomorrow," I whisper.
"Then make me not regret it," she purrs, sucking on my mouth, sending a blackout surge through my brain.
No.
I force myself to pull away.
"You want to know the real reason I'm doing this?" I ask.
She mews in frustration, waiting for my answer.
"It's not purely about you," I say, putting distance between us.
Jennifer stops her slow, teasing touches against my lower body.
"No one gets away with almost blowing me up," I say, letting my words sink in. I glance at her before smirking.
"So don't get the wrong idea, baby. I'm not doing this for you. I'd do this for any of my friends," I lie smoothly.
She doesn't say another word for the rest of the night.
-
I sleep on the couch.
Jennifer, of course, sleeps in her old bedroom.
I keep telling myself that what I did was right.
That this is what's best for her.
It wasn't my original plan. At first, I thought I could seduce her—have a little romance during this getaway. My body has been craving her since our fight.
But… why does she have to be so damn righteous?
Even in her own case, she wants to do everything legally.
If she ever found out the real me…
Yeah. Us?
Not gonna happen.
No matter how I feel about her.
We were never meant to be together.