I’m not that man. These past few years, I’ve fooled myself into thinking I was, or that I could be what she deserves. But I’m not.
That truth hurts.
My phone floods with Ravenna’s voicemails and text messages. I delete one after another without reading or listening to them. The thought of hearing her voice is more torment than I’m willing to put myself through.
She gutted me. I’m lost without her. I’ll never recover from this, from her. So I push her from my mind.
I have other problems to worry about right now. Wolfe and I eventually found Kody and Finn’s bodies in the garage beneath the agency’s building. I went looking for them as soon as I leftthat office. Wolfe met me there, and we eventually found them. Dead.
Did Ravenna know her lover slit their throats and left them there? How cold-hearted is she to let him do that to those boys? Goes to show that you never really know a person when they can surprise you like that.
Wolfe helps me remove Kody and Finn’s bodies from the trunk of the car, and place them in a walk-in refrigerator where they’ll stay until funeral arrangements are made. I need to break the news to everyone about their deaths.
As for Devlin? Fuck him. His corpse can rot in his office for all I care. I made that mess but I’m not cleaning it up. The cops can piece together that scene and do their investigation. I don’t care.
Luck was on my side last night. Somehow, the building’s security camera system was offline. My guess is Devlin took it down so there’d be no footage of him murdering Finn and Kody, then forgot to reactivate it.
His oversight worked in my favor. Anyone can guess as to who killed Devlin, but without evidence no one will know for sure. His death will be filed as another senseless office shooting. Probably by a disgruntled co-worker or vengeful ex.
I didn’t leave any DNA or prints behind. As for Ravenna, hers have every reason to be all over that place, since she works there. Although she may be questioned, since she was the last one to see him alive. If she even shows up to work this morning.
Not that I care. She’s not my responsibility anymore.
“I’m calling it a night,” Wolfe says as we head back to the car. We’ve both been up all through the night. Dawn spread its gloomy glow across the sky hours ago.
I nod. “Drop me at my motorcycle and I’ll drive myself home.”
“Sure thing.” He sends a worried glance my way. “Do you want to tell me about what happened last night?”
“No.” My firm tone puts an end to this conversation. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s humiliating enough that Wolfe saw me through the fallout after Fiona. I’m not putting either of us through that a second time.
The best thing I can do is pretend Ravenna’s dead. She died last night, taking my heart with her. Good thing I don’t need that organ.
We ride in silence to where I left my bike near the modeling agency. As expected, the place is crawling with cops. Paramedics load a body into the back of their vehicle. Onlookers gather round to gawk. Even the news crews are in full swing, reporting on what little they know, sensationalizing every bit of it. Vultures. I’m sure theBig Apple Buzzwill make a mint off this story.
I’m about to get on my Ducati when my phone chimes with a different sound from Ravenna’s tone. This time, it’s Brendan texting me, so I don’t ignore it.
Brendan:
Urgent. Meet me at the compound. ASAP.
I scowl at the message, tired. What the fuck is going on now?
Starting up my bike, I head north to the compound. Brendan always gets straight to the point, no filler needed, so I don’t demand an explanation. If he states it’s urgent, then it is.
Security lets me through the gate and I drive around back to park in my sprawling garage. I plan to swap the motorcycle for a car on my way home, especially now that it’s raining. My clothes are soaked through.
Crossing the distance of the garage, I enter the house through a side door and head straight for my office. That’s where Brendan will be waiting.
I hope to fuck whatever the problem is can be sorted quickly. I’m dead on my feet with exhaustion.
As soon as I enter my office, an odd sensation crawls beneath my skin. On instinct, I reach for my gun.
But I’m too late. Some big fucker hits me in the side of my head. The brief disorientation gives him enough time to disarm me, then hold me at gunpoint with my own weapon.Motherfucker.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl, facing him. Only to realize he’s a stranger. “Who the fuck are you?”
In answer, he tilts his head to the other man in the room. Brendan.
