“I was looking for Art.”
“So you decided to wander through the woods alone in the middle of the night? Are you out of your mind?”
“Gee, you’re really astute at pointing out observations, Champ.”
“Someone was following you.” His hands clench at his sides. “Who the hell was that?”
“I don’t know.” My pulse is pounding so hard I feel it in my teeth. “I don’t know who he was, and I don’t know why he was following me, because nobody tells me anything.”
My voice echoes off the trees, and Lance moves forward, crowding me against the oak until my back scratches against thebark. His hand comes up, his finger resting on my bottom lip, and my breath hitches.
“Quiet. You want him to come back?”
I shake my head, which only makes my mouth brush against his skin, and we both sit in this weighted silence. I keep my gaze on his silver chain, counting my heartbeats and trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m shaking now, and I can’t stop. The adrenaline is crashing, and everything I’ve been holding in all night is tearing its way up my throat.
“You’re trembling.”
He takes one step back, close enough where the heat still pours off his body and blankets mine. I shove my hands under my arms. “I’m pissed off.”
“Because you were followed?”
“I found something. In Art’s office.”
“What do you mean you ‘found something’?”
I pull out my phone, my fingers clumsy as I swipe to the photo I took. The screen glows between us, and I practically hurl it into his chest. “Read it.”
He takes the phone from me, and his expression doesn’t change, but something in his posture shifts. “Where did you find this?”
“The bottom drawer in Art’s desk.” My middle tightens. “Did you know? Tell me what the fuck’s going on, please.”
He looks up from the phone, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “I didn’t know.”
“Did Art?” The question hangs between us and I want to grab it back, shove it into the dirt, and pretend it’s not there. But I need to know. “Don’t—don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t know.”
He hands me the phone, and I slip it in my pocket, my hands still trembling.
“That’s it?” I ask. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me what the hell is going on.”
A branch cracks somewhere behind us, and I flinch. He flies forward, his body pressing against mine, and I swear the warmth sinks through my skin and simmers beneath the surface.
Lance is quiet for a long moment. His jaw works like he’s chewing on words he doesn’t want to say, and then he glances down and lets out a breath. Slowly, he releases me.
“Just because it’s in that office doesn’t mean Art knows.”
My stomach flips, dread pooling low. “Doesn’t it?”
He works there. Heownsthe place.
Lance steps back. “Freddy kept a lot of stuff in that place. And you know Art. He’s sloppy with keeping track of things. That email was clearly between Freddy and Brutus Myrddin.”
I mull over his words. “Who’s that?”
