“The dream had to end sometime. He dropped me off at the canteen about an hour ago. Something about his dad as he practically kicked me out of the car. He’ll regret not taking the blow job I offered him when he has to playreferee to his parents. Honestly, it’s times like these I adore my parents being all those miles away.” She picks at the petals of the bunch of daisies in her arms, lost in thought.
“Parents, who’d have ‘em?” I laugh awkwardly. The conversation of what it’s like to have normal parents isn’t anything I should have an opinion on, so I dodge the subject entirely.
“Been decorating again?” She gestures to the mural on my wall, and I see the black dripping heart as it dissects the dove’s wings. I may not have heard from the guys today, but it seems their penchant for breaking and entering on a whim still has them playing games. Sadness ripples beneath my smile at the fact that they didn’t come into the living room to see me; it certainly would have put a happy spin on the forced craft time I had to endure.
“I stocked up at the market, so how about we meet out in the living room in thirty for strawberry bellinis and authentic Italian carbonara? None of that cheap ham bullshit.” I glance at my bedside alarm; only seven pm and it’s already getting dark outside.
Turning back to face Megan, I say, “That sounds like heaven.” My belly grumbling at the mention of food. I ignore the protest of my liver at the thought of those bellinis and Megan’s lack of alcohol-measure control.
“I believe you have some gossip about two hot cowboys; I hope you’re feeling chatty.” She grins playfully with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
“Half an hour,” I laugh as I push her out into the hall, shutting the door before she can say anything else.
“Don’t fight it, babes; cowboy cock is on the rosta,” shehollers with gusto, her voice muffled through the wood. There’s no mistakingcowboy cockthoughas she leans into the words with added vigor.
I bet the neighbours are loving us right now.
I’d only meantto lie down for twenty minutes, a quick power nap to recharge before an evening of no drama, no boys, and copious amounts of alcohol if Megan got her way. As I’d drifted off, my eyes settled on the heart painted on my wall, the paint still glossy as it dries. The thought of Caleb or Cooper coming in here to add to our design fills my chest with a wave of emotion.
We have time now, together.
I dance over that line of sleeping and waking, feeling more tired now than I did when I laid down as my eyes flutter open fully. The room is dark. I blink tiredly over at the clock; an hour has passed. The sky outside my open window is black with swirls of deep purple, starless with a full moon hung low. Reaching for my lamp, I turn it on and swing my legs out of bed, the air cool against my bare arms as I potter over to the window that creaks as I pull it shut. I don’t know why I linger there, suspended with an empty mind as something a little like unease shifts low in my belly. I shake away the feeling with no name and head out into the hall.
In the living room, I notice the bags from the market still piled in organised chaos on the dining table, brimming with leafy greens and exotic wrapped cheeses, an expensivebottle of champagne open beside it. The two long stem glasses decorated with a sliced strawberry on the rim, one filled, one empty, are certainly a step up from the wine mugs I’m used to.
“Someone started without me. I guess I’ll unpack then,” I yell out down the hall. The sound swallowed up by the silence as the clock above the cooker ticks away. I’ve known Megan to get lost in her evening routines, so I decide to get started on dinner.
Switching on the speaker, it immediately connects to Megan’s phone from the bedroom. Elvis Presley’s “Suspicious Minds”, an odd choice for someone who has had her hot girl summer playlist on repeat for the past six weeks but i’m not complaining. I jump into action, sliding over the linoleum tiled floor with ease on my sock clad feet and adjusting the volume. We don’t need another noise complaint. Before the thought has even had a chance to settle in my brain, banging comes through the wall. They can’t see the middle finger I flip them off with, but it makes me feel a little better. Swaying to the music, I pull a knife out of the rack and grab for the chopping board under the sink. I sing along with the bits I know as it builds to the chorus, remembering my mother for a brief fleeting moment when she would be allowed to bake. I imagine the sold-out arena transforming the living room as I wave the knife around in the air and shake my hips in time to the melody, losing myself to the music as I swallow back another mouthful of the strawberry flavoured champagne, finishing it off. With the glass still in my hand, I sway a little, using the table to keep me steady. Turning thebottle around to check the alcohol content, my eyes refuse to focus long enough for me to read the label.
“Megan,” I slur her name as the word feels too heavy for my mouth.
The glass slips from my fingers and smashes on the floor, but the sound of it doesn’t reach my ears, like a strike of lightening outrunning the roar of thunder in its wake.
It’s all over in seconds. The door swings open, and I barely have any time to ask him why he’s there, not that my mouth would allow me to anyway. The needle pierces my neck, and my knees give way as I fall to the ground. The panic from moments ago that was lighting up every nerve-ending now sloshing like a serene wave against a sandy bank as the warmth of his fingers caresses my cheek.
“Hello, little Ebony.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
COOPER
Spending the day holed-up in the safe house Ezra had Jose arrange for us, monitoring the socials to see if Silas decides to hold an impromptu conference to let the public know they have found the guilty parties in connection to the murders, isn’t how I imagined today going. Thankfully, it all seems quiet. I don’t know whether that should soothe me though. It feels like lowering our guards is a mistake. Detective Silas Turner obviously has an edge we are just not seeing. That feeling that we’re playing go fish while he’s mastering a game of chess is apt right about now. Checking in with Ebony via the cameras, we decide not to tell her what has happened. She’d only worry.Buried to the hilt inside Ebony while she cried out our names was the plan rolling around in my head when we’d fallen asleep holding her last night—that plan would have been preferred.
When night descends, we head out, walking through town to Ebony’s apartment while Jose sorts out a new ride.We don’t know what information the police have managed to gather from my laptop, but I’m pretty positive that the small-town hick hackers Silas has on his payroll have nothing on the web of firewalls Ezra has put in place. But unprepared psychos quickly find themselves caught psychos if not prepared for every eventuality, so right now, we’re being cautious psychos.
Caleb and I have discussed inviting Ebony back to the farm where we currently have construction going on when her summer break begins. We’ve bankrolled through a dummy company Ezra set up, and in a couple of weeks, it will be ready. I didn’t tell Caleb about the art studio I have planned for Ebs that overlooks the lake, smiling to myself as I imagine the surprise on her face when I reveal it to her.
“You’re quiet,” Caleb states, a question lingering in there somewhere.
“Do you think she’ll want to come back with us?” I ask, and he stops walking, turning to face me.
“I don’t plan on giving her a choice. We’ve kidnapped her before. I think she might like the idea of a little trip down memory lane.” His green eyes darken, and I shove him in the shoulder playfully as we continue across campus. Dark jeans, white shirts, our hats tipped down enough to disguise our faces, we look like every other townie strolling around out here, our signature red bandanas tied around our wrists should the need to secure a certain someone to a bed frame arise. We slip into Ebony’s apartment building, very aware that our photos could have been shown around campus already.
Caleb pulls up the surveillance app, flicking betweeneach feed. “We need to adjust the camera in the living room, I think it’s been knocked loose.” He turns the screen to face me, and all I see is that smiley rom-com photo of Megan and Mateo on the beach on its side filling the screen.
“Maybe she’s onto us?” I tease, swiping across to the view of her empty bathroom.
“Nah, under all that bristling and yelling, I think our Dove quite liked the fact we were watching her,” Caleb says, pride licking at the edges of his forming smile as he closes the app and pockets his phone.
