Lifting the flaps, my stomach drops.
Is… is this…? From Tristan?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TRISTAN
Man,I love Taco Bell. Seriously, nothing beats a chalupa supreme and a baja blast after an intense workout. I fucking hate cardio days until they’re over and I get to reward myself with salty, cheesy goodness.
Lifting the fluffy taco from the wrapper, my mouth unhinges wide like a cartoon character until my phone buzzes on the coffee table.
Seriously? Talk about shitty timing.
Setting down the chalupa, I pick up my burner as Daphne’s name brightens my screen.
“Hello?”
“Was it you?” The panic laced in Daphne’s voice sends a bolt of icy adrenaline through my gut.
“What happened?”
“You, you fucking sick fuck!” Her voice rises to a shout that pierces through the speaker. “Is this a fucking joke?”
Worry clutches my stomach harder. Something’s wrong. “Whoa, okay. That’s a lot of swear words, Daph.” She doesn’t laugh at my joke, which only makes me feel even shittier.
“If this is your idea of a sick joke, it’s not funny.”
“Joke? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb.”
“Um, I’m not. What’s going on? Am I being punked?”
Daphne lets out a frustrated growl that’s both cute and terrifying. “The box.”
“What’s in the box?” I ask like Brad Pitt’s character inSeven.
“Tristan,” she snaps.
“Seriously, Daph. I didn’t leave a box.”
There’s a long pause. Something rumbles around on the other end of the line like she’s tossing the box around. “It wasn’t you?”
The worry still in her voice sucker-punches me in my gut.
“No. It wasn’t me. What’s in the box, Daph?”
She draws a long, stuttering breath into the phone. Time damn near stands still as I wait.
“The bill.” She swallows the words on the other end of the line like a bitter pill. “With a knife through it. They wrote, ‘Kill it or we’ll kill you.’ It wasn’t you?” she asks again with a note of desperation in her voice. Like she wants me to admit to it and say it was a bad joke.
But fuck, that’s not a joke. And it wasn’t me.
Anger builds quickly until my heartbeat hammers in my ears. Is someone after Daphne?
My hands shake as adrenaline floods my system and I spring up from my seat, ready to go to her.
I need to know she’s alright. Even if she’s on the phone with me, even if I can hear her clearly, I need toseeshe’s okay.
