She looked up at him, blinking through her thick lashes, her eyes wide and vulnerable. I was impressed—back in the day, I’d been a master of the puppy-dog-in-the-rain look. If only she could make herself cry on command, Emma would give me a run for my money.
“Why are you doing this to me?” She gave her voice the slightest tremble, pretending to wipe at the corner of her eye.
Travis glanced left and right as if looking for eavesdroppers. Then he leaned forward, putting his mouth right by her ear as if to share a secret. His breath was rancid with sugar and pot. “The thing is, Emma, you’re a real bitch.”
It took all her willpower not to slap him in the face. But she had to play nice. Her lips slightly parted, she rested a hand on his bare bicep. Travis’s eyes flickered down to where she was touching him.
“I’m desperate,” she whispered, ignoring the surge of bile at the back of her throat. “I’ll do anything. You have to help me, Travis. You’re the only one who can.”
He stared at her blankly for a moment, his malice overcome by surprise. She ran her eyes appraisingly over his body, trying to look seductive, hunting for the telltale rectangular outline of his phone. There. It was in his front pocket, just against his hip.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Anything, huh?” He stepped back from the door, holding it open for her. As she stepped past him, he slapped her on the butt, and she jumped. Her stomach lurched. For a moment, she wondered if she was making a huge mistake. Travis was dangerous.
But Emma was tough, too. And she needed that phone.
She reached up to take the itchy wig off her head, but Travis grabbed her hand. “Leave it,” he murmured, his breath hot on her face. “I like it.”
Emma dropped her hands to Travis’s hips, leaving the blonde wig where it was. Slowly, she slid her hands into his pockets. His eyes closed, his breath coming quicker. Her fingers searched past stray coins and a baggie of something she was sure was pot before closing around the hard plastic form of his phone. As she wrenched it from his pocket, his eyes shot open.
“What—” But he didn’t get to finish his question. She brought her knee up as hard as she could between his legs. His eyes crossed, and he fell backward onto the bed, clutching at his groin.
She was out the door and slamming it behind her before he could even move, taking the stairs three at a time, adrenaline coursing through her veins. By the time he wrenched the door open, she was already at the bottom.
“You crazy bitch!” he screamed, limping after her. “I’ll kill you!”
“You’ll have to get in line!” Emma yelled over her shoulder as she took off running. She zigzagged around an acne-scarred man dressed in the polyester blazer of a hotel staffer, then sprinted across the parking lot, leaping over medians and dodging cars. The muscles blazed in her legs, but she barely noticed. For a moment, she felt like she could fly.
And I was flying right next to her, chanting her name like a cheer. Finally, my sister had gotten her hands on something that might be able to clear her name. And finally, she’d been able to hit Travis exactly where it hurt.
26
SHOW US YOUR TEXTS
Emma burst into Ethan’s room thirty minutes later, the phone pressing sharply into her palm. He jumped up from where he’d been sitting at his desk, his mouth open round in surprise. She whipped the wig off her scalp and threw it down in victory, unable to wipe the grin from her face.
Ethan stared at the BlackBerry in her hand, then looked up at her wonderingly. “What . . .”
“It’s Travis’s phone!” She quickly explained what had happened, leaving out the fact that she’d had to faux-seduce him.
“Emma, you’re amazing!” Ethan took the phone, a smile spreading across his face. She sank to the edge of his bed, running her fingers through her mussed-up hair. There wasn’t enough soap in the world to get the memory of Travis off her skin—but it was worth it. She’d gotten the phone.
Ethan’s fingers danced over the BlackBerry’s keys, and she held her breath, watching him carefully. After a minute, he shook his head. “It looks like his text history and his e-mails have been cleared pretty recently.”
Emma’s heart sank. “So it was all for nothing?”
“Not necessarily.” Ethan popped the SD card out of its slot and held it pinched between his thumb and index finger. “That stuff stays forever, if you know how to look for it. And it just so happens that your boyfriend is sort of a techno-geek.” He shot her a grin as he stepped toward his computer.
“What are you doing?” Emma said.
Ethan stopped. “Plugging it in. Don’t you want to see what’s on it?”
“But . . . shouldn’t we take it to the library or something?” Anxiety streaked through her. “What if someone can trace it to your computer? I don’t want it to look like you had anything to do with stealing it.”
He shook his head impatiently. “The nearest branch is closed for the night. We can’t wait for tomorrow. Emma, this could answer all our questions. This could be the solution we’ve been looking for!”
She rubbed her palms into her eyes. Then she nodded. “Okay. You’re right. Plug it in.”
Ethan turned back to his laptop, inserted the card into a small device, and plugged it into the USB port. Instantly a window popped open on his screen, listing the contents of the phone. Ethan clicked to view all the files at once—and blushed a vibrant red as Travis’s entire p**n ography collection opened on his desktop.