“He was wearing a Viper MC vest.”
I wait for a response, but Max just runs his tongue along his teeth.
“Selling drugs to a kid also wearing a Viper MC jacket.”
“Fuck. You get a good look at the kid?” he asks, dragging a hand through his hair.
Either Max is a very good actor, or this is all news to him. My shoulders sink a little. “Tall, gangly, shaggy brown hair. One of the same kids who set my shop sign on fire and tried to run me over.”
Max’s eyes widen. “Jesus, Lola, you didn’t tell me that.”
I point a finger at him. “You said Carson wasn’t a Viper anymore.”
“He’s not,” Max grits out.
“Then why was he wearing a Viper jacket? Why was he dealing to one of your guys? Why is he sending me those messages and trying to run me over?!”
Max stares at me as my chest heaves. I draw in a breath, my heart a painful beat behind my ribs. “Does he know?” I ask, my words dead quiet.
Max’s voice lowers, growling like the wolf he’s named for. “Lola…”
“Just tell me please. Is there any way he knows?”
Max softens. “He doesn’t know anything. And the messages aren’t from him.”
I blink up at Max, at the pity in his eyes. “What?”
“The number you asked me to trace. Those messages came from London. Carson’s on parole, he’s not allowed out of the country.”
“Oh.” I blink again, my brain trying to play catch up. I was so sure it was him. It doesn’t make any sense if it’s not.
“Look, last I heard Carson’s living out in Mount Bush. I’ll have some guys pay him a visit and tell him to back off. And I’ll talk to the kid, knock some fucking sense into him.”
I sigh, the adrenaline leaving me in a rush and making me shaky. “You’re sure he doesn’t know?” I ask.
Max’s eyes bore into me. “I haven’t told a soul. Now, leave.”
I nod and walk away before Wolf’s gaze gets any darker. Because he is Wolf now, the boy I knew as Max almost entirely gone.
I turn my back on the club, pausing for a moment when an SUV milling across the road catches my eye. There’s something familiar about it, but the car pulls away before I can place it.
I carry on walking, but the uneasy feeling doesn’t leave me because if Carson’s not the one sending the messages, then who is?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lola
The Admissions Committee has reviewed your application to the University of Toronto. After much consideration, I regret to inform you, we are unable to offer you a place this year.
- Extract from a rejection letter addressed to Lola Ford, age 17
The sun grows strongeron the way back into town and by the time I turn onto Main Street the locals are out doing their shopping along with a few early bird tourists.
I wave to Tea as she opens up the bookshop, her pink pixie cut studded with gems, then I stroll up to the coffee shop to find Roman leaning against the window.
Seeing him undoes the knot in my chest and I lean into his solid strength as I twirl my arms around his neck. “What are you doing here?” I ask, smiling up at him.
He stamps his lips against mine and I forget that we’re supposed to be keeping this quiet. I get lost in Roman’s touch, the world and all its threats falling away as my existence narrows to the heat of his lips on my skin, his hands on my hips.
