“Dad’s not in,” I tell him the moment I open the door, standing to one side so he can enter. “Was he expecting you?”
The man takes a step inside, then stops. He pulls a wallet from his inside pocket, withdraws a card and hands it to me.
It’s my credit card.
My skin feels encased in ice.
“You should keep a closer eye on that.”
“Where did you—”
“The next time your father tells you to stay away from a girl who’s trouble, you listen. Understand?”
I stare at the man. At the meticulous way he presents himself. Nothing about him looks like it could be ruffled by the messiness of normal human emotion.
“Where’s Evie?”
“Heading out of town if she knows what’s good for her.” He waves a finger in a small circle. “I’m sure this little grift of hers has been fun, but it’s over.”
“She wouldn’t leave.”
Vale stares at me, then slowly, slowly, his lips curve into a smile.
Fear explodes in me at the thought of what this man could have done to gain her compliance. Pain splinters through my hand, the knuckles indenting the wall where Vale’s head was a second before.
“Perhaps you should—”
The next blow hits him in the stomach and when he bends forward, I grab the sharp creases of his lapels and shove him against the wall. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
Before he can answer, my knuckles collide with his face, crunching bone, mashing his lips against his teeth. When I flex my fingers, specks of blood fly to land on the carpet.
“Hey, man,” Zane calls out from the stairs. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem,” Vale calls out, his upper lip swelling, blood coating his teeth. The skin next to his eye swells, already speckled with shadows. “You’re upset, so I’ll just add this altercation to my tab, but the next time your temper frays, remember I know enough to send both you and your father away for a very, very long time.”
He steps away from the wall, and I fall back, turning to the side to let him go. My hands shake as I try to call Evie. She doesn’t pick up, the phone diverting to voicemail.
“You okay?” Zane asks, walking up the rest of the stairs, frowning as I stand, staring at my phone with troubled eyes.
“I need to go. Don’t let Wilder anywhere near the boat.”
“As if. I’ll take them to mine,” he says but I’ve already turned, grabbing my car keys off the hook, and jogging into the garage.
My fingers tap an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel as I wait for the garage door to open, the gate to unlock, the traffic to clear long enough to let me pull into the road.
The back of my neck prickles like someone’s staring at me. I rub it raw by the time I pull up outside Evie’s old flat, cursing that I didn’t bring the laptop with me. Cursing harder that I never ported the tracing software to my phone.
After a second of thought, I lean over to open the glovebox, reaching inside for the revolver I keep meaning to dispose of but haven’t, tucking it into the back of my jeans.
Then I’m out of the car, punching in her door code, thundering up the stairs, two or three at a time, not caring about the noise. Her door is partly open, a stack of belongings on the landing.
“Evie!” She jumps at my voice, spinning around from the bench, her face deathly pale. She’s writing a note. “What’s happening?”
“I need to leave.” There’s a reusable supermarket bag next to her, folded over, and she picks it up, fingers clenching around it as though she doesn’t want to let it go. Then she shoves it at me. “Here. This is for you.”
I ignore it, stepping closer, trying to read her expression while she tries equally hard to keep it hidden.
“Vale returned my credit card.”
