How could I have explained an entire arsenal if she’d found it?
I couldn’t.
How can I keep her safe,whilekeeping Scarlett safe, for as long as Richard Aster lives?
I can’t.
Which means he’s gotta go. But not until I get Nova back on the road, driving toward the house her brother prepared for her.
Finishing with the strap on my thigh, I straighten and stride back to the hall, leavingusbehind and making a beeline for the front door. I said I would wait outside and watch her lights come and go, but what’s another lie in a stream of so many?And is it really a lie when, at the time I spoke it, it was the truth?
I don’t fuckin’ know, but I wrench the car door open and drop into the driver’s seat so heavily, the entire vehicle rocks on its chassis. I leave all the lights on inside my house. The door unlocked. Dinner on the porch. The bed, unmade. I leave an entire life, fake as it is, on hold and start my car. Slamming it into reverse and tearing out of the driveway, I skid onto tar and slip the gear into first.
My loyalties have changed. But unlike Nova, I still have family Aster might like to fuck with, so I drive one-handed and type with the other.
LINC
1703.
I send those four digits to my sister; code forGet the fuck out of town until I say otherwise.
LINC
1449
I send a second text that meansdanger is coming. But this isn’t her first rodeo, and unlike Nova, Scarlett takes my warnings seriously. She’ll go on vacation until I say she can return, so beloved by her employers that she’ll still have a job when this is all over. And because she loves me as fiercely as I love her, she’ll only get alittlepissy at my interrupting her life.
Again.
Taillights shine red about half a mile ahead, slowly winding around the curving road and disappearing into the distance. I push it out of my mind, pull into Nova’s driveway instead, andtoss my phone down as I skid to a stop behind her shiny new RAM.
I said she had ten minutes.
It’s been about that long.
I shove out of my car, dust wafting high in front of the still-lit headlights. With balled hands and a heart sick with worry, I shout into the darkness. “Nova? Babe!” I jog up the front steps and pound my fist against her door. “Time’s up, Nichols. Get your ass in your truck.Now.”
I expect her to call out. To tell me to wait, or, more likely, to get the fuck off her property. Maybe our ten minutes apart has allowed her sensibilities to snap back into place. Maybe she swells fat with rage and storms through her home, fueled by anger. Or worse, circles back to naivety with plans of returning to work on Monday, like her life isn’t in danger.
But when she doesn’t respond at all, I bang again until the entire wall vibrates and my stomach flips with nerves.
“Nova! Open the door, so I know you’re safe.” I didn’t bring my tools, so I can’t pick her lock. But Icankick a hole in the wall if she forces my hand. “I’m coming in, Nova.” I back up and study the lock. The one Ryan put in, which means it’s more secure than those at my house. Less likely to collapse under the pressure of a single kick. So I cast my eyes to the hinge side instead.
He didn’t replace those, and if they’re anything like mine, they’re already rusting and ready to give out.
“Nova! Last chance.” But I don’t give her time to argue. I lift my leg and chamber it back, then I stomp forward, slamming the heel of my boot near the flimsy bottom hinge until wood splinters and metal pings to the floor. “Nichols!” I back up,preparing for the second hinge, then I charge forward, throwing my shoulder into the collision.
The not knowing isn’t nearly as horrifying as stumbling into her living room and finding her things everywhere. Her bookshelves tossed. Every page torn from every book. Cupboards destroyed. Drawers obliterated. Silverware spreads from the kitchen doorway to the couch.
But worse. So much fucking worse, is the spray of blood on the floor. My stomach heaves as I lower into a crouch and drag my finger through the mess.It’s still fresh. “Motherfucker!” I straighten and spin, sprinting back onto the porch, then down and across the lawn to the road. I look left, searching for taillights, then right for the same reason. I need some indication of where he took her. One fucking clue. A single second alone with Richard Aster and my blade. “Goddammit!”
I snatch out my phone and quickly open my tracker app, the one she unknowingly allowed to access her data when she called me that first time and connected our devices. But when I tap her name and wait for the satellites above to locate her device, it sticks a pin right where I already am. Her fucking truck.
I stride across the lawn and look inside the cab, only for my heart to sink when I find her cell lying on the passenger seat.
“Fuck!” I exit the app and go to my call log instead. Selecting Aster’s name, I slam the phone to my ear and stalk back into the house, pushing through the destroyed door and standing amongst the chaos. Her things, cruelly tossed to the floor. Her couch, not only flipped, but torn to shreds so her intruder could search inside.
“Lincoln Castro,” Aster answers with a sly smirk bubbling inhis tone. Pure glee, knowing he’s this much closer to what hethinksis a complete code. “It’s kind of late to be interrupting my evening, don’t you think?”
