“Is it your best friend ever?” Mira says, grinning.
“It is, actually,” I reply.
She pouts, and Elle mock glares at me. “I think a certain lady wanted you to sayshewas your best friend.”
Mira shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I shoot Mira a wink and walk out onto the porch, scanning the tree line. I answer the phone.
“A bit early for you, isn’t it?” I say.
“Lucian’s out.”
“Lucian’s out,” I repeat, my head not registering the meaning at first. Then the reality slams into me. “Of prison.”
Marshall swallows loudly.
“Lucian fucking Conti is out of prison,” I snarl. “How?”
“He was being transferred. He and three other prisoners attacked the guards. Apparently, they paid one off not to secure their handcuffs. They went at them like animals, using the cuffs as weapons.”
I grip the porch railing, feeling splinters bite into my hand, wishing someone would appear in the trees. “When?”
“Day before yesterday,” Marshall says. “I only heard about it because it’s all over the news. I know you don’t watch much TV.”
The day before yesterday. So, the cigarette butt could have belonged to him. I look over my shoulder at Mira, making funny faces at Elle. Safe, alive. Without some twisted bastard targeting them for the crime of being happy.
“Rhett?” Marshall says.
“Any news on how close they are to catching him?”
“They got the other prisoners, but they’re not saying anything else. Lucian must’ve had some friends waiting, or at least some cash. He’s probably out of the country by now.”
“Hmm,” I murmur, thinking.
Or his obsession has reignited, and he’s gone to hunt down the ones who got away.
“I’m with Elara Vance now.”
A beat. “What?”
“I’m… with her,” I repeat. “I’m at her place. So I’ll know if Lucian tries anything.”
“How did you know… I just told you.”
“She’s my new neighbor,” I sigh. “I guess that voodoo crap you’re always spitting might be true after all, pushing me into her path…”
“There’s superstition, then there’s… this,” Marshall says. “What are you doing at her place?”
“Helping out,” I say.
I can’t go into detail, can’t tell him how the shape of her body is burned into mine, that her laugh is like a prize to me already.
“Does she know who you are?”
I look into the house, into her wide, curious eyes and the nervous smile tugging at her lips. “Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
