“The Institute issues twelve pro-bono cases per year, but unfortunately, they are all assigned for this year. You can apply when the spots reopen in January.”
Dammit. “Alright. Thank you.” I hang up before he does.
How? How is someonethisinaccessible? Every other man who has met my daggers has been decently easy to lure out. But I can’t pull that with Phoenix. He’ll see right through me if I try to approach him and seduce him. I’ve left too many comments, and he’s replied too many times for him not to instantly recognize who I am. He’d never fall for my act.
I don’t know what the answer is right now, where my opportunity will arise from, but until then, I’ll keep watching. I will memorize. I will hunt from the shadows. Because Phoenix Marrow may be worshiped by the masses, but to me, he’s nothing but my eventual prey with good PR.
I’m about to turn the key in the ignition when my phone buzzes in the cup holder.
It’s a number I don’t recognize.
I frown, swipe it open.
What are you doing right now?
No emojis. No context. Just bold, invasive, teasing in a way that instantly makes my skin prickle.
I stare at the message. And I just…know.
It’s him.
Kade. Saint Shade. Whatever the hell his real name is.
The man who cleaned blood with me like it was Tuesday laundry, who has my face in his memory, my life in his hands. The man I’ve left very public, very thirsty comments for.
My throat tightens. My first thought ishe’sflirting.My second thought is,how the hell does he have my number?
I type back, quick and literal:
Staking out the next five fingered steaks I’d like to carve.
I don’t clarify. I don’t add context. I’m not dumb enough to type “plotting to murder Phoenix Marrow” into a text box. But the words are close enough that my heart races as I hit send.
The message showsRead.And then… nothing.
Thirty seconds. A full minute. My pulse climbs with every empty second.
Oh shit. I shouldn’t have admitted what I’m doing. What if it’s too much? What if not-Kade is sending it to the police?
I’m two seconds away from a full-blown spiral when my phone lights up again. But not with a text.
It’s a call.
I almost don’t answer. Every instinct screams at me to hang up. To sever this line, cut this cord before it knots any tighter.
But curiosity wins. Curiosity, and something else I don’t want to name.
I swipe to accept. “What?”
“Damn, Willow.” His voice floods through the speaker, rough silk, urgent. “You’re really staking someone out right now?”
I bristle, my defenses rising. “You jealous? Afraid it’s you?”
He hesitates for a moment, as if he isn’t sure how to proceed. Apparently, it’s with caution. “Just afraid it’s trouble,” he says, the words low and filled with wariness.
I can’t quite get a read on not-Kade. Is he judging me? Preparing to turn me in? Being unnecessarily protective? I don’t know this guy well enough to tell. But I do see an opportunity. So, I test him. Push him. “Tell me, not-Kade… ever heard of Phoenix Marrow?”
There’s a pause. I can hear him breathe, so I know I haven’t lost him. But I can practically hear the gears in his brain whirling. Me calling him by his non-name, actually asking about a specific person, giving my target away. “Yeah, I guess. He’s the wellness guy. Billboards everywhere. Looks like he’s auditioning for prophet of the year.”
