“Who else would a senator hire if they wanted someone to disappear?” Antony drags out his phone and starts tapping. “More importantly, who would be able to get the drop on Brentwood?”
I wish Eli was here.
The thought slams into me so hard that I jerk. It’s a flush of need that starts in my stomach and pools warmth through my body. This isn’t desire. It’s something deeper. It’slonging.I used to feel this tugging in my gut when I watched films about families of teens living their normal lives. Now I feel it for the comfort and steadiness that only Eli Hart can give.
Maybe Eli isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t borrow a little of his steady, careful nature. Put on my own Sherlock Holmes orgasm face.
I turn back to the bathtub, trying to see the bathroom through Eli’s eyes.
“It has to be someone he trusted, because he let them into the house.” I think of the coffee cups we saw downstairs. “Probably they were having coffee together and that person put something into Brentwood’s drink, then maneuvered him into the bath once he was out cold.”
“They’d have to be incredibly strong to get him up here and over that tripwire,” Antony says. “I could probably do it if I had to, but it would suck. He’s not a small guy. I don’t think this was hired out – you’d have to be crazy to incur the wrath of Dio, but… hold on. What’s that?”
Antony reaches across the corpse and snaps an object from around Brentwood’s neck. He holds it up for us all to see.
It’s a gift tag tied on a pink ribbon. It had been wrapped around Brentwood’s neck like he was a present under the Christmas tree. It reminds me of a ribbon I used to wear in my hair when I was a little girl – Daddy’s favorite color on me. Antony rubs a blood-stained finger on the edge of the tag, reading the words aloud. “A gift for you, baby girl – to show how much I care. Brutus.”
Baby girl.
My stomach twists. I sink to my knees as the bile rises in my throat.
I can’t breathe.
My eyes slam shut but my eyelids burn with red splotches, with an old wound that’s torn open and bleeding inside me.
Baby girl.
That’s whathesaid. The man who came into my room that night. The one who’s seen my real face.
Baby girl.
Noah drops beside me, grabbing me under the arms and holding me against him. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t answer him. I can’t. My whole body goes slack. Noah’s yelling something at me, but I can’t hear what over the pounding of my own heart in my ears.
Behind his back, Antony meets my eyes. Realization dawns on him. His jaw sets as he reads the note again.
He turns and smashes his hand into the tiles.
Noah second-hand winces as shards of tile fly from the wall. I guess Brentwood’s decorator hadn’t used the best glue.
“What’s going on?” Gabriel asks. Noah doesn’t say anything, but he stares at me with those coal-black eyes and Iknowhe sees I’m hiding something.
Antony wipes his bloodied knuckles on the hem of his shirt. He’s back in control now. “We know who did this. It’s Brutus. He must’ve found out about the appointment I made with Brentwood. And this note confirms he knows Claudia’s real identity.”
I’m grateful Antony doesn’t tell the rest of the story. “What do we do now?”
“We get the fuck out of dodge before anyone sees us here and reports it to the police. We don’t have time to wait around for Dio’s clean-up team – we’d have to explain what we were doing here in the first place. Better they believe Brentwood’s disappeared.” Antony pulls something from his pocket and tosses it to Gabriel. “Pretty Boy, put those on and dig around in his closet. We’ll need three pairs of shoes and a pillowcase to stash ours inside.”
Gabe pulls on the latex gloves and locates three pairs of shiny Brionis, which he lines up on the carpet. We take turns to slide off our blood-soaked shoes and step into the clean ones. I drop my spike heels into the pillowcase. “I liked these shoes.”
“Are we leaving him here?” Noah jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom. But Antony’s already on the phone to Tiberius.
We wait in the house until Tiberius arrives with the supplies we need. Antony goes downstairs to guide him through the booby traps. They appear in the doorway, their arms loaded with vats of chemicals and a large kettle.
“You might want to get out of here.” Antony plugs the kettle into the power outlet beside the sink and starts boiling. “This will smell delightful.”
I sit down on the corner of Brentwood’s bed. I don’t care about the smell. I’m numb to the world – the only thing that pierces my haze are those words repeating over and over in my head.Baby girl baby girl baby girl…
