UNKNOWN
We were prepared to let this go, but then we realized what a unique position you’re in. No one can get close to The Firm…apart from you.
My blood runs cold. Cade suspected they knew the Buckinghams were The Firm. That’s why he sent his selfie to them in the first place.
Question is, what do these people want from them? Are they going to try to blackmail Cade using me somehow?
Think. Think. Think.My mind is racing, searching for any way todefuse this situation. To turn their attention away from The Firm and back to me.
ANSEL
We’re not close. We ran into each other today and decided to get coffee.
I don’t mean anything to Cade and he doesn’t mean anything to me.
The lie hurts to even type.
UNKNOWN
Maybe we’d believe that if we didn’t see how you reacted to us threatening to hurt him.
Fuck.Fuck.I should’ve realized that wouldn’t work. I can only blame the panic coursing through me. “Not good in an emergency” could be written on my gravestone—one I might be rotting under sooner rather than later if I don’t think of a way out of this.
UNKNOWN
Or if we didn’t have all of these…
Photo after photo comes through, too fast for me to process. All of them are of Cade and me. We’re walking down the street. We’re at different restaurants.
The final one has the contents of my stomach fighting its way up my throat.
It’s shadowed, but what’s happening is clear enough.
It’s us in the opera box. Me on my knees, Cade’s cock in my mouth. That isn’t the worst part.
No, it’s Cade’s hand gently cupping my head, the open adoration in his eyes as he watches me.
There’s no hiding it. Cade’s feelings are written over every inch of his face.
Before I can respond, the same photos reappear. This time, each has one of those terrifying black circles.
In every photo, there’s a pointer trained on Cade.
Every. Single. One.
I close my eyes briefly, forcing myself to calm down.Focus. If Cade realizes something is wrong, it’ll all be over.
When I can be sure I’m not going to vomit everywhere, I open my eyes. They seek out Cade immediately. He’s chatting to the barista, gesturing at one of our drinks. It’s my hot chocolate, I realize. It’s missing the whipped cream. He’s making sure it’s perfect for me.
Just as he always does.
He twists slightly, and I see it. The red dot. It’s in the center of his back now.
Right over his heart.
I force my attention back to my phone, to the other messages that have come in.
UNKNOWN
