Blake’s exhale was shaky. “I doubt these people care about either of those things. The entire party was illegal. And the guy who runs it,” his eyes met mine, looking scared, “everyone says he’s ruthless. That if you don’t pay him on time, he’ll destroy you.”
Fear wormed its way up my spine. “We need to tell Mom and Dad.” They’d know what to do. They had the kind of money to fix this situation.
Blake gave a violent jerk of his head. “No. Please, Stel. They can’t find out. I’ve never done anything bad before, and I can’t handle them being as disappointed in me as you are.”
I pushed to my feet and hauled him into a hug. “I’m not disappointed in you. I’m shocked. And I think our parents would feel the same. Really, you should be more concerned about Mom going on the warpathforyou.” Someone had hurt her perfect angel baby. She would be furiouswhen she found out.
Blake pulled free and went back to pacing. “No, you... you don’t understand. Mr. Strickland has no morals. He’ll do something to Mom and Dad. Or threaten to leak my losses to the press. I don’t want to put them through another scandal like yours. It almost broke them last time.”
I went rigid.
Blake’s face fell as he caught sight of me. “Shit, Stella, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“What was that name you just said?” I asked, my ears ringing.
“Mr. Strickland?”
My head spun.No.No fucking way. “What did he look like?”
Blake shrugged. “I don’t know, he had a mask on.”
I lunged forward, grabbing his shoulders. “But you must have seen something. Hair color, eyes, height, anything?” My fingers dug into his arms. I was squeezing him too hard but couldn’t help myself, my mind stuck on something from earlier.“Theo. You’re going to want to remember that.” The smug look on Theo’s face when he’d said it. The way he’d followed it up with,“Or you can call me Mr. Strickland if you prefer.”How he’d seemed like he was secretly laughing at me the whole time he’d been here.
“He was tall, I think,” Blake said. “With blond hair? Maybe blue eyes?”
I tore myself away from him and flew out the door. It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since I’d closed the shop. Theo could still be nearby. This block had several bars that were open until 2 a.m. Maybe he’d popped into one of them. Or, considering his vanity, was standing under a streetlight admiring himself in the reflection of a window.
I froze half a dozen feet away, trying to remember which direction Theo had walked in. Left? Right? Passersby turned to look at me, no doubt wondering what the hobgoblin with the messy bun and pimple patches was doing out here.
Shit, shit, shit, think, goddamn it,I told myself, trying to ignore the onlookers. That motherfucker had come intomyshop, after doing what he’d done tomybrother, and acted like a smug asshole. He’d goaded me. Flirted with me.Kissed me.
Blake materialized at my side. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to remember which direction Theo went when he left.”
“Who the hell is Theo?” Blake asked, clearly confused.
“Mr. Strickland.”
Blake made a choking noise. “He washere?Oh, fuck, Stella, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “Did you see a blond man on your way in?”
“No.” He glanced up and down the street, fear taking over his expression.
My blood was singing for immediate vengeance but I forced myself to be rational. Theo was probably long gone. If, by some miracle, he was still close by, there was likely no way I could find him, and even if I did, what then? It wasn’t like I could beat him to death in the middle of a bar. The man was huge, and something about the way he’d said I couldtryto hit him told me he knew how to fight, that all those pretty muscles weren’t just for show.
What I needed first was more information.
Reluctantly, I led Blake back into the tattoo shop, relocking the door behind us. Once inside, I made him a cup of strong coffee from the break room in the back—because, god, he reeked of booze—and forced him to drink it while I recounted tonight’s events (minus the kiss I wished I could banish from my memory).
“I can’t believe he was here,” Blake said when I was done, glancing around like he was waiting for the boogeyman to jump out.
I was quiet in response, my mind in overdrive. Blake said the party was last week, but Theo and I had been emailing for over two. It reeked of a setup.
“Come take a look at this,” I said, heading toward the front desk. With a few shakes of the mouse, I woke the computer and navigated to my security footage. Today’s video feed filled the screen. I snapped forward in time to 11:25 p.m., and right on cue, Theo strolled inside, somehow looking both douchier and hotter than I remembered.
I hit pause and turned the monitor toward my brother. “Is this him?”
