My stomach plummeted, shaky hands almost dropping the phone from my ear. My father and brother had assured me that the man on the other end of the call had been taken care of. So why was he coming back to haunt me from his shallow grave? Taunting me the moment my foot hit Holbeck soil for the first time in years.
“Logan?” My voice cracked in fear.
“You’re looking real nice, Em.” His voice purred, and I wanted to throw up.
Scrambling around the countertop, I watched the front windows of the shop, but the painted panels obscured the outside view. My eyes watched for any movement, but there was none. Just an endless desert stretching on for miles.
And then I saw it. Up in the corner of the waiting room was a camera someone had haphazardly hung. I slowly raised my head to look at the device as the mechanical whizzing sound of the lens pushing in and out as it focused on my figure flowed through the space. Gulping down the bile rising in my throat, I tried to compose myself as Logan’s dark and cold chuckle filled my ear. “I’ll see you real soon, pretty little Spade. And then, we can pick up where we left off.”
The line went dead. I slammed the receiver down, stumbling back on shaky legs before launching myself toward the exit. My feet slammed against the linoleum floor. The bell went off again as I hit my palms against the door. It crashed against the outside wall, resulting in the entire window shaking violently inside it. My heel caught on the curb, and I flew forward into the gravel. Tiny rocks bit into my knees, blood beginning to soak through my jeans. A hiss of pain escaped me as I pulled myself onto my hands and knees, crawling toward where my car was parked.
Fumbling with the door handle, I finally got my sweat-slicked hand around it and yanked it open. Tumbling into the safety of my vehicle, I searched my pockets for the keys. My hands shook as I tried to place the key into the ignition, cursing every time it missed, and I had to start the process over again. Finally, after the third time, I managed to shove the metal home and turned it. The engine roared to life in response. I jammed my finger against the locks, letting the click of them soothe me for a moment.
My forehead slammed into the steering wheel as I tried to suck in a few breaths and reminded myself Logan wouldn’t be stupid enough to enter Death Dealers territory. Not when he was supposed to be a dead man. He was probably hours away, getting off on my fear as he toyed with me.
“Shit.” I breathed out through my nose once.
My eyes caught the movement in the back seat, but it was already too late as a gloved hand snaked around the headrest, silencing the scream that spilled from my lips. I fought against my attacker’s hold, only making them grip down hard on my face, holding my head in place against the seat.
“Oh, how I’ve missed the sound of you screaming for me, doll.”
I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. My heart hammered violently in my chest. It was just a dream. Another goddamn nightmare. I pressed a hand to my throat, trying to will away the lingering panic.
Astoria shifted beside me, her breathing slow and even as she slept. The safety of her presence was enough to calm me. I lay back again, my eyes watching the shadows of the early morning waver on the ceiling.
The memories that haunted my dreams were trying to tell me something. Begging me to piece together the truth behind the massacre, behind the lies I had been fed my entire life. But so far, all they gave me were more questions than ever.
I pulled at a loose thread in the cream sheets, letting the repetitive motion calm my fraying nerves. Even in the safest place in Lovelen, I couldn’t outrun the ghosts. Not awake. Not asleep. And certainly not from him.
The sharp clatter of dishes dragged me from sleep. Thin rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, slicing the room into pale strips of gold and shadow. Astoria’s side of the bed was empty, the sheets tangled and cold.
My eyes burned slightly from the contacts that had dried up during the night on my eyes. I blinked a few times, hoping thesensation would dissipate, but unfortunately for me, I think I was stuck with the feeling until I could remove them or get my hands on some eyedrops.
I swung my legs off the mattress, the concrete floor biting into the soles of my feet. The oversized black T-shirt Astoria had thrown at me last night skimmed my thighs, the hem brushing the tops of the borrowed sleep shorts beneath. A bloodred queen chess piece in mid-checkmate with a white king piece was printed across the front. “The Queen’s Table” was written in stark bold letters beneath it.
Even though the fabric of the shorts hid it, I tugged the shirt lower to cover the thin scar that curved along the top of my hip bone as I stood. Some things weren’t meant for curious eyes or careless questions. Especially nothis.
I padded out of the room, following the low murmur of voices and the soft chime of shifting cups down the hall. The bar was dim, but not lifeless. It appeared to be the kind of place that came alive only after dark and always had secrets buried deep beneath the floorboards.
Astoria leaned against the back counter, her long legs tucked beneath her as she clutched a steaming mug of coffee in both hands. Nolan sat opposite her on one of the tall stools, one elbow propped on the bar top, the other cradling his own mug of dark liquid.
The place was plainer than the flashy bars I had experienced in my college town. All sharp angles and muted color, except for the red-and-black chessboard dance floor and velvet U-shaped booth that sat in the back corner. It looked like some sort of forgotten relic from the ’70s. The only other seating was the line of black wooden stools that ran along the bar.
But the bar itself was something else.
It was an L-shaped slab wide enough to comfortably walk across, and a polished pole at the corner stood tall like anunspoken challenge. Running across the full length of the bar top was an industrial metal bar, and if you were tall enough, you could probably pull yourself up until you were dangling over it. Spotlights hung low, begging for someone to climb up and command the room. It wasn’t just a bar. It was a stage.
“Morning,” Nolan’s voice cut through the haze.
Astoria lifted the coffee pot without a word, her brows arched in a silent question. I nodded gratefully and slid onto the stool beside Nolan as she poured. Laid out across the sleek black surface were multiple different résumés. Each was accompanied by a headshot that showed off what the girls thought were their best angles. I lifted the mug of coffee to my lips, eyes scanning over the experience of each candidate. None looked that impressive just from a glance.
“Did you sleep well?” Nolan asked, his tone light and teasing.
Tearing my eyes from the pair, I glared at him while taking another large drink of my coffee. “Wellis a relative term,” I muttered, hugging the warm mug closer to my body.
The coffee was scalding and pulled me further from the fog of my nightmares. Nolan chuckled loudly enough to echo, earning a dramatic glare from Astoria.
“I think she might be more quippy than you, Tor.” He smirked.
