I scoffed. “I should beat her ass, but yeah, I might need her for this.”
“That’s not a little dramatic?”
“Fuck her,” I spat. “She got with you on purpose, and I don’t like that shit.”
“You feel some type of way, but we’re not together right?”
I glared at him. Whether or not we had a label didn’t change the way my chest tightened when I saw them together. Or how I wanted to be with him, even when I knew I shouldn’t.
“It’s the principle,” I grumbled, getting to my feet.
Fontaine shook his head. “I’m not about to do this with you tonight. I gotta stop by my mom’s place real quick, but I’ll come over when I’m done, okay?”
He stood and pulled me into him, not waiting for a response, because he’d come even if I told him not to.
“Took you long enough to call,” Parker said when she picked up the phone.
I rolled my eyes. “This is a business call.”
“Fontaine isn’t business?”
I chuckled. “You know what? I wasn’t trying to go there with you right now, but fuck it. Real talk? I’m gonna either beat your ass or kill you. Depends how I’m feeling that day. But this ain’t that call. You gonna listen or not?”
“All this over a nigga that you refuse to be with? I mean the dick is phenomenal but he’s not your man. That’s not a little weird to you?”
I sighed. “Parker, what do you know about the Order of Oleander?” I had to switch the subject—I was two seconds away from tracing the call and cutting her throat.
“I know that anything involving them is above both of our pay grades.”
“You don’t have a contact?”
She sucked her teeth. “What aboutabove my pay gradedon’t you understand? Those people are already ten steps ahead—if you’re asking about them, it’s ‘cause they want you to. They’re probably listening to this call right now.”
“This is an encrypted line,” I countered.
“Fontaine could hack this call with his eyes closed. If they want to reach out, they will.”
I let my head fall back against the headboard.
“Nairobi…” Her voice softened. “Regardless of how you feel about me, be careful. The Order’s into some dark shit. If you’re on their radar, it’s because they want to use you or kill you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And about that little threat?” she added, tone shifting to something colder. “If it’s really up, let me know. Because if you touch me, make sure you kill me. I may not be out in the field like you, but I know how to handle myself.”
Two beeps and the line went dead.
A sharp knock came at the door before I had a chance to collect my thoughts. That couldn’t be Fontaine—he would’ve let himself in.
I slid off the bed, padded to the front door, and checked the peephole—nothing. I cracked the door and looked down the empty hallway. There was no evidence anyone had been here—no ding from the elevator, no sound from the door that led to the stairwell. But on the floor was a cream envelope with my name written in looping calligraphy.
I bent down and picked it up slowly, flipping it over. No return address, just a black wax seal with a flower that looked like an oleander.
I ripped it open, kicking the door closed behind me. Inside was a card with nothing but an address, a time, and a single word:
SANCTUM
“What’s that?”
