Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

boyfriend. Was. Is. I don’t… he hits… I can’t…” She broke down, crying harder.

The gathered crowd slowly dissipated as the bar attempted to start the next round of trivia, distracting them from our small group.

Addie pushed her way through to pull the sobbing woman into a tight hug. “Don’t you worry, honey. You’re safe now.”

An hour later, the grumbling in my stomach had intensified, but the police had taken my statement.

“You okay?”

I nodded.

“So.” Addie shook her long wavy auburn hair as one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised in my direction. “Where have you been hiding your kung fu fighting moves, little miss karate?”

A chuckle came from behind me.

I turned, a blush warming my face. Luc had been joined by the owner of Elliot Securities, Paxton Elliot. Both laughed quietly.

“Hey.” I gave them a nod. “Thanks for helping.”

Luc grinned. “I would say any time, but you seemed to have it under control.”

I chuckled nervously. “Still, thanks.”

“Plan now?”

I rubbed a hand over my face. “I’m grabbing a burger and heading home.”

They stayed with me, waiting for my food. As I tucked the paper bag filled with deliciousness into my backpack, Luc offered me a ride.

“Nah, I’m good. My car’s just out front.” The last hour had allowed me to brush off my latest bad memory; my hands were steady now the adrenaline had worn off.

Luc shrugged. “I’ll follow you home, then.”

“I’m okay. You don’t have to.”

“Humour me.”

I ducked my head, fighting another blush. “Okay.”

Luc trailed me to my car. I waited while he got on his Ducati.

My apartment was in the city but not exactly in the most vibrant place to live. A set of four buildings, each only two storeys high, I lived on the second floor of the third building. All the buildings were red brick, cracked concrete, and in various states of disrepair. The general sense of abandonment and the fact they attracted people of questionable habits lent them their nickname – the drug flats.

I peeled off at my driveway, waving a hand out the window in thanks. I expected Luc to keep going, instead he turned in to my complex, following.

I pulled into my allocated space in the open park, expecting Luc to circle, then leave. Instead, he parked beside my car. He didn’t say anything as I led him up the stairs to my apartment. The hallway sensor light stayed off as we headed to my door. I made a mental note to drag another fluorescent bulb from my supply. Maintenance never did anything.

I hit the locks on my door, there were three, and opened it up. I paused, uncertain. I’d never invited anyone here. I’d always claimed it was much too small, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Want to come in for a coffee or something?”

Luc glanced down the hall, frowning, his gaze sharp. Down the corridor, my neighbours’ door had opened, their TV blasting into the hall.

“Yeah.” A muscle in his jaw ticked as he watched their door slowly close.

My small one-bedroom unit had a tiny bathroom, minus the bath. The shower felt more like a standing coffin, but the bathroom had a small mirror, a basin, and a toilet. I’d painted the unit, trying to create my own little oasis. Plants overflowed pots in every corner and on every bookshelf. On my kitchen windowsill sat two small rows of assorted teacups full of fresh herbs ready for cooking. My eye-bleed of a couch was a horrific explosion of florals from the early nineties. Used but comfortable, I’d picked it up at the Salvation Army store for a bargain.

The most expensive thing in my apartment was my TV. There was no other word for it except massive. Huge. A monstrosity. It had taken the delivery guys forty minutes to work out how to navigate it up the narrow staircase and through my door.

Luc looked around as I moved to the kitchen.

“I’ve got instant, is that okay?”

He shrugged off his jacket while moving to straddle one of my bar stools.

“Sounds good.”

I set the kettle to boil and opened my dinner bag, munching on a still warm chip.

As the water heated, I turned, leaning back against the kitchen bench opposite Luc. I picked up my burger, taking a big bite. He watched me, a slight wrinkle between his eyes.

“What?” I asked, swallowing.

Luc raised an eyebrow. “Why this place?”

The kettle whistled, and I set about making our drinks.

“You know.” I shrugged, back to him. “It’s cheap and close to everything.” I splashed one sugar and a dash of milk into his coffee.

“Cheap? I do your evaluations. I know how much I pay you.” He said it teasingly, but there was an undercurrent.

I handed him the mug, then retreated to the other side of my kitchen, blowing a little on the tea as I avoided his eyes.

“Everyone needs money, Luc. Even me.” I dodged his actual question.

After a long silence, he shrugged, changing the subject. “You’ve got a freaking huge TV.”

I grinned. It had taken me two years to decide to buy it.

“All the better to get my geek on,” I teased back.

Luc stood, moving to look over my DVD collection. I chewed another few chips, watching.

My collection took up half of one wall. The other half held my book collection alphabetised by author and series. Comic books were the bottom half of the bookshelf, novels the top.

“Got anything I’d like?”

I had to think. “Depends. I do action, I don’t do horror.”

“I do action.”

I sat the remains of my burger on the counter, dusting my hands on my jean leg as I moved to the wall of epic DVD-ness and started sifting through my series.

“Hmm… animated sci-fi?” I glanced over, and he shook his head.

“I do Saturday morning cartoons, that’s as far as I go.”

“Right,” I murmured, looking back through my collection. “What about Saturday night cartoons?”

“So long as it’s not some Star Trek shit, I’m open to it.”

I laughed. “You’d like it if you tried it! Here, it’s an adult cartoon. Archer. Heard of it?”

He shook his head.

“It’s