“Mine” by Third Eye Blind plays in the night, a cover song from Beyoncé, and with one arm wrapped tight around Sloane toward the back of the packed venue, her ass swaying as she clutches me with her nails dug in deep, I feel it, all the words.
She is mine, and in another life, we’d fall in love, and in three months I’d ask her to marry me with a diamond ring bought from lies and crime and looking over my shoulder and now hers, too. But tonight, there’s a text in my phone and it’s a reminder of all the reasons why I’m wasting her time and sheshouldbe with someone like that uptight, cowardly piece of shit kid named Dax.
The lights are dim for this song and everyone is dancing slowly, turning from side to side, some people with their heads lifted and necks tilted back and others, like me and Sloane, pressed up close to each other and savoring that emotion we all want, no matter who we are or what we do: Love. We want to feel fucking loved.
But I can’t reach for it. I can’t grab onto it, even with Sloane’s hair down her back and my forearm pressed to her breasts andthe scent of her the only thing I can smell despite the sweat of hundreds of people in this room with us.
Because the words on my phone, tucked in the pocket of my jacket, pressed against the gun I illegally brought in here, they keep replaying in my head.
Unknown
Is tonight the night you tell her goodbye?
I can’t stop thinking it’s Lydia, but her address is protected and besides, wouldn’t Dad tell me she was on Riddle Lane when we talked about it before? And why bother going to all that trouble when she had me in her grasp more than once? When I felt how still she got at the sight of Grey on the stairs?
Dad said he traced the number too and he couldn’t get more information than I did.
What kind of game is this when I don’t know the motive or the objective?
So she thinks I did something to her brother, but what? I don’t even know who he is. And maybe I don’t understand the politics of crime in Ellicottville as well as I thought I did, but in my experience, you taunt someone when you want to make them paranoid. When you want to scare them. When you want something from them.
But this unknown coward hasn’t asked me for anything. There’s no ransom, only vague threats and more specific targets.
What the fuck do you want?
I tried to call them in the bathroom of the venue while I made sure Sloane waited right outside where any number of people would hear her scream.
They didn’t answer. Of course they didn’t.
Something about the rush of the threats gets them off, but I’m not sure to what end. Mom would deal with this, but Daddoesn’t want her to know. When Mom gets involved, things get scarier. Not becauseshe’safraid, but because she’s not, and she’s mean and aggressive and she might not have a gentle maternal bone in her body but she’s a fucking lioness and she’ll kill for anyone in her family.
The song’s chorus starts again and Sloane turns, her long sheet of blond hair slipping over one shoulder as her gorgeous eyes find mine. Her face is cast in shadow because of the low lighting but I can still see the smile on her pretty lips.
And I can’t find the one reflected on my own mouth as dimples flare in her cheeks and she looks up at me like she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the entire fucking world. But I’ve seen the pictures on her walls, and she told me where she wants to go after she graduates.
Edinburgh.
I want to take her during her winter break.
I just have this strange feeling we might not make it that far. This has to end, doesn’t it? So why would we drag it out all that time?
It would destroy me, if I got that tangled up in her and had to let her go.
A trip to Europe with only her would be heaven for me.
Coming back just to watch her go again and find someone else would be hell.
Without thinking, I lean down close and my lips find her temple.
I squeeze her tight and she melts in my arms.
I don’t think about that hotel with Dad. I don’t think about the text on my phone. Lydia’s reaction to Grey’s corpse. The fact I’ve lost a person who keeps my clients happy.
The same number taunted him.
The same numbermurderedhim.
These aren’t idle threats anymore.
