“No,” I say, taking another swig of liquor, “you don’t.”
“That I do, Dec. You’re up to something, I don’t know what, but I bet it started with those drugs, and is going to end with us all in hot water.”
“Anything that goes on is my issue, not yours.”
He rolls his eyes. “Family, fuckingeejit.And you never think things through.”
“What’s your problem?” I ask, irritated because he’s right. But also wrong, too. “Don’t you have a wife to get back to?”
He grins. “That I do, young Declan, that I do.”
“I take risks sometimes,” I mutter. “That’s all.”
“Not with a lass you don’t. Think it through.” He takes off up the stairs on the opposite side of the foyer, into the newer part of our mansion.
Think it through? I am. But sometimes a situation calls for instinct, split-second thoughts. There’s something else going on here. And I’m not sure what. But if I do this right, keep Marlowe safe, find the da and catch her stalker, the main reason for this fake marriage, then maybe Cal can find a way to sit down and talk with the Marcello family.
If Cloris knows Milo, her owing me a favor is worth something.
Even if I stole her dog. Temporarily.
The folder of notes and cards are on the coffee table, and Igo through them. Not the ones that Marlowe’s seen. But the ones her mother intercepted. It seems Cloris likes to micromanage her daughter. Probably her husband and the company, too. Which makes it weirder to me she hasn’t tried harder to get him back.
Something might be preventing her. She said she’s tried to find him, but she also said not all debts are money related.
Is she hiding something?
Probably, but I’ll work on that later. Right now, the stalker bothers me, because the notes she kept hidden are creepy as fuck. Things like how he wants to anoint Marlowe, make her his. Carve his name into her.
They go on.
Creepy and threatening and sounding like the workings of a truly fucked-up mind.
It’s the same handwriting as the notes Marlowe has seen.
Sounding like.I come back to that. I buy the line of threat, but the next-level psycho?
A darker thought builds.
What if the missing da, whatever debts Cloris is dealing with, and the threats against Marlowe are all related?
I don’t know. But the sooner I move on this, publicly claim Molly, the safer things will be. The faster events will unfold.
The sooner I find this stalker and flush him out, the sooner I can focus on her father. And then…then I’ll be glad to see her gone.
Very glad.
It’s a wild morning with cats and dogs and a cranky parrot. Raff is, of course, utterlycharmed by Pepper.
Lucie is not, as Raff’s now running around squealing some of Pepper’s choicer phrases. Like…
“Show dus your tids!” Raff screams.
“No,” Lucie says, holding the baby who’s staring at me with big, blue eyes, her hair already dark. “We don’t say that, Raffy.”
He skids to a stop in front of his mammy. “Zudus?”
“What the fuck are Zudus?” I mutter.
