“Messiah warned me you’d try and get me to run another errand for you.”
I pick a new angle to work from. “No wonder he thinks he’s the boss.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You let him walk all over you. Talk down to you. Control you. Your father would’ve hated it. He wanted you two ruling together. Don’tyouwant that?”
The valet arrives with my station wagon, which cuts a pitiful figure beside the red Ferrari parked out front.
“I could help you…rise.”
Silence.
“Higher,” I add.
Come on… Bite.
I fish a bill from my pocket to tip the valet before realizing the amount I’m holding might be viewed as mildly offensive in such a high-end establishment. So I double it before trading it for my keys.
“Tell me what you’re thinking over the phone, and I can tell you whether I’m interested.”
I get behind the wheel of my car and start the engine. “In person. If you’re interested in hearing what I have to say, meet me inside the Central Library in Copley Square at three. Once you’re there, text me, and I’ll direct you to the aisle where I’ll be waiting.”
I hesitate to tell him to come alone, but that might give him cold feet. Besides, Hudson is skittish and doesn’t go anywhere without a small entourage, so he’ll come accompanied whether I ask him to or not.
I pull up my message thread with Electra.
ME:Babe, call me when you land. We need to talk.
I press send just as my battery dies. “Fuck.” Did the message even go through?
At the red light, I root around for the charging cable I keep plugged into my car. It’s not there. I twist around but it’s not in the backseat either. Where the hell did I put it?
The driver behind me lays on his horn. I power across the intersection. Instead of ransacking my vehicle while driving and getting into a fender bender that would cost me every dime in my pouch, I decide to get back to my parking spot and search for the cable then.
Fifteen minutes won’t make a difference.
The neon strips along the ceiling flare as I pull into the covered lot and drive to my spot. I put the car in park, get out, then drop into a crouch to inspect the footwell.
I spot the tail end of the cable just as the air shifts behind me. I sweep my hand under the dashboard for the switchblade I keep there, then, with feigned nonchalance, I twist my head and peer up.
I brace myself for Trenton—or for one of his lieutenants. But that’s not who I find.
Chapter 44
Reeve
“Hayes?” The knife almost slips from my fingers as I lurch to my feet. “Holy fuck.” I don’t know what volume of voice I’m using.
I scan Quinn from head to toe, taking in the red streak on her jaw and crimson splotches on her fingers that poke out of a jacket that swallows half her five-foot nothing body.
“Are you hurt? Whose blood?—”
“It’s p-paint,” she stammers, the whole of her shaking. “M-Mostly. Some of it is bl-blood.” She must catch the flash of rage in my eyes, because she hurries to add, “Not mine!”
“Whose?”
“Dad’s. I think… I think I k-k-killed him, Reeve.”
