Page 43 of Shots Fired

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Tough,” she coughs into her pillow.

I lean down, bracing a palm beside her head. With my other hand, I tuck the hair covering her ear behind it. “You’re such a brat—you know that?” Kissing the shell, I watch the way her skin reacts beneath my touch. “And while I might not be your boyfriend, you are mine for however long we’re sleeping together.” I kiss her again. “I’m going to need regular updates from you throughout the day. Seeing you like this is killing me because I care about you, Darcy.”

She groans in response, turning her head to look at me. All I can see is an eye and the corner of her smile.

“Okay, you got yourself a deal.”

“How many days do I need to keep away?” I ask, convinced I won’t last more than a few hours.

“I’ll call you when I’m better and the coast is clear.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” I repeat.

Darcy lifts an arm behind her, motioning to the door. “I’m fine. I promise.”

It must be another few minutes before I finally turn to leave. Darcy’s breathing is more even, along with a soft snore.

Walking out of her bedroom, I close the door behind me and look around her kitchen and living space. It’s not exactly tidy, although I can tell someone has taken the trash out and wiped down the kitchen surfaces. Probably her mom when she was last here.

A pile of paperwork sits on the corner of her breakfast bar, and I make my way over to it, taking a seat at one of the stools.

This is technically classed as snooping, but, hey, I’m telling lies and claiming relationships with anyone I want these days. What’s another immoral act?

On top sits a master-level sudoku book. Most of it is completed, and there are little doodles—hearts, flowers, and smiling faces—dotted around the pages.

I know Darcy is smart and has a high IQ—I didn’t need her to tell me to figure that one out. This though? This screams of someone with next-level intelligence. Like, who the fuck does this stuff for fun? She’s even made up her own problems in the corners, challenging herself further.

Searching underneath the puzzle book, I find a letter from Premium Rentals, titled:Welcome to your new home. Blowing out a sarcastic breath since this place is about as secure as my confidence when it comes to other guys chasing my girl, I scan the contents and land on a name and number. This must be her landlord.

Don’t do it, Archer. Put the letter down and walk away.

Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I pause on punching in the number, one last attempt to stop myself.

It doesn’t work, and a few seconds later, I’ve got the phone to my ear, listening to cheesy hold music as I drop down from the stool and pace Darcy’s living area.

“Hello, Ian Rands speaking.”

I pause my pacing. “Hi. Are you the guy who owns apartment fourteen in Deuce House?”

There’s a beat of silence before Ian replies. “I am. And you are?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I blow out a long breath. “I’m Darcy Thompson’s boyfriend, and I need to speak with you about the security in this place.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DARCY

“Okay, your temperature is on the way down. I think the antibiotics are finally doing their thing.” Mum runs a hand across my forehead before cupping my cheek in her soft palm. “I just called your boss and said you’re going to need a few more days off.”

I release a pained groan. “I wasn’t going to tell her that; I was going to send an email this afternoon and suggest I work from home for the rest of the week.”

Mum’s soft gaze turns more serious. “This infection has knocked you off your feet, Darcy. You’ve been cooped up in this room for four days now, and only today are you starting to show signs of a recovery. I’ve never seen sickness like it. I want you warm and rested. Mother’s orders.”

I grumble below my breath when she stands from the bed and tucks in my duvet.

Mum ignores my protests. “Chicken or tomato soup?”