“Anything for you, doll. Go. Have fun with your friends. I’ll take care of the rest.” When her feet hit the sidewalk again, she wipes under her eyes. I plant a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. She melts into me. She pulls away, giving me another grateful smile, then the girls enter the jeep and drive away.
Cole and I load the few bags into the trunk of the Camaro.
“Alright. Let’s go visit the Steele’s.”
Morning light washesover the Steele estate as Cole pulls the Audi around the circle drive, my Camaro rolling in behind him. He parks at the base of the front steps and the front door opens before either of us step out. I kill the engine and step out from the Camaro slowly, resting my forearms over the hood. Jack Steele stops halfway down the steps. His gaze lands on the Audi first. Then on me.
Melissa lingers in the doorway behind him. Perfect hair. Immaculate posture. Hands loosely clasped in front of her as if she’s observing a garden.
“Morning,” Jack says evenly.
“Mr. Steele,” I reply, matching his tone.
Cole swings the Audi door shut and walks around the back of it, keys swinging lazily from his fingers. He stops two steps below Jack and extends his hand.
“She won’t be needing this anymore.”
Jack takes the keys without breaking eye contact with me. Cole doesn’t wait for acknowledgement. He turns his back and walks toward the Camaro. His part is done. And in his mind, this exchange is finished. Jack’s eyes flick to the Audi once more before returning to me.
“And the loft?” he asks cooly.
“Inside,” I tilt my head toward her car. “Keys are in the console.”
Melissa shifts slightly in the doorway. Not forward. Not back. Just enough to show she’s listening. Her chin lifts. She’s not surprised or upset. Almost…prepared.
Jack studies me for a long, deliberate second. “That was quick.”
“It was necessary.”
Silence stretches between us.
“She understands what she’s giving up?” he asks.
“She knows exactly what she’s leaving.”
The distinction is intentional. Jack’s jaw ticks, almost imperceptibly. Behind him, Melissa’s clasped hands tighten, knuckles paling before she smooths her expression again.
“We’ll see,” he says quietly, straightening the jacket of his suit. He steps past us, measured and unhurried, then slides into his own car. The engine starts and the door shuts, ending the conversation.
Cole drops into the passenger seat of my Camaro without a word. I reach for my door, but my eyes lift once more to the house. Melissa is still standing there, watching. Not angry. Not rattled. Not even mildly inconvenienced. Her expression is smooth. Almost patient. My jaw ticks.
She’s too calm.
A woman like her doesn’t lose something without already having somethingelsein her pocket. Her chin lifts slightly when our eyes meet, then she steps back inside. The front door closes softly behind her.
I slide into the driver’s seat and turn the key. The engine rumbles to life.
“Let’s go.”
As we pull away, I don’t look back. I don’t need to. Something tells me this won’t be the last time we hear from Melissa Steele.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The county morguesmells like antiseptic and something metallic underneath of it. Cold air hums through the vents. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, harsh and unforgiving. Cole shoves his hands into his jacket pockets as we step inside.
“Never gets less creepy,” he mutters.
I slap my hand on his back. “It’s not supposed to. Hope you’re not squeamish. I’d really hate to have another reason to dislike you.”
