I look up from my phone, desperate. Wes glances between me and Noah.
“Welp, looks like I’m on my own this morning,” Noah says, looking pleased.
Wes looks absolutely pained.
A hot teasits in front of me, untouched. I’m waiting for Shane in the diner and ordered the hottest drink I could in case I need to use it as a weapon. I also have a knife that Wes slipped under my jeans and strapped onto my calf. As if I have any knife skills.
Wes is watching. I don’t know where from, which he said is best so I don’t accidentally look in that direction, but I’ve already gotten a text from him noting I haven’t taken a sip of my tea.
I love how he watches me.
There might be some trauma there to talk to a therapist about at a later date.
Shane walks in, and I’m struck by his harsh good looks, strong with a hint of cruelty in his sharp jawline andprominent chin. Both eyes are bruised—the fresh one from last night and fading one on the other side. A new bruise is on his cheek and his lip is split. His eyes are a cruel gray, and his hair light and thick. He’s noticeably more fit than when he disappeared six weeks ago. Back then, he wasn’t a fighter. I would’ve noticed if he showed up at our apartment like this.
“Hey, Cals.” Shane slides in across from me, glancing around the mostly empty diner. “Where are your guard dogs?”
I hate it when he calls me Cals. It was sweet at the beginning when we first got together, but he’s used it contemptuously for the last years of our relationship.
“Not here,” I say, trying to keep my face blank. But I can feel myself cringing, flinching, showing my discomfort.
Shane laughs bitterly. “Okay.”
“Got the ring? Ready to sign?” I tap on the table where the divorce papers are waiting for his signature.
He leans back, arching his back and tucking his hands behind his head. He smirks.
Yeah, I know. The money. Worth a shot, I guess.
“Maine is a no-fault divorce state. If we split before figuring this out, everything will get divided fifty-fifty anyway. Your father died before any theoretical divorce, so…” He shrugs and takes his hands down, linking fingers on his abdomen. “I’d get half in the courts.”
Fucking asshole. But he’s probably right.
I can’t wait to get as far away from this hateful man as I can.
But even as I think that, there’s a stabbing in my belly because getting away from this life includes getting away from Wes. There’s no restarting my life in a squeaky-clean way but also having anything to do with those serial killer brothers. Regardless of the fact that they are killing bad guysand saving young women and girls, Wes is still a murderer. And a stalker. And apparently has a kink for zip-tying me while he does unspeakable things?—
“Hello?” Shane waves his hand in front of my face, and I return from the hot, sharp flashback of last night.
“And what do you need the money so bad for?” Money is money, so it’s probably a stupid question. But all this drama of him disappearing to New York and calling me from Boston and waiting for me to find him… it’s such a waste of time. Jones has leverage over him. That’s gotta be the reason. “You already drained our bank account before you left.”
A flash of something crosses Shane’s face, then it’s gone.
“Like there was any money in there anyway.”
He’s right. We didn’t have much. But he left me with nothing except for my secret bank account, which he didn’t know about. I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.
“Fine. Take half of what was in our bank account off my share of the inheritance. Then it’s fair, Cals. That’s all. I’m only looking for fair.” Shane’s voice is hard. Cruel.
“What are you talking about? How is this fair?” It’s frustrating because I feel like there’s something else going on, but I can’t put my finger on it. “Why did you even disappear if you wanted this money so bad? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to stay in Portland?”
“I was sent here to New York, Cals.” Shane’s jaw is clenched, and he grinds his teeth together. “By my boss.”
Never mind. I don’t want to know what’s really going on, actually. I just want to be free.
“Fine. Whatever.”
“No courts, no lawyers. Easy.”
