Page 71 of Grant’s Heat

“Room number, Pamela.”

“Twelve nineteen. But understand, the only reason I’m telling you is because an evaluation hasn’t been done yet, so technically she isn’t the center’s responsibility. If you’re willing to take responsibility for her, then the only people you have to contend with are the ones who had her brought here.”

“And who did you say that was?”

Pamela strutted in her sensible block-heeled pumps to the computer behind the admissions desk and tapped on a few keys to wake the computer.

“I’m sorry, what did you say the last name was again? My nerves have really gotten the best of me.” She gave an awkward smile, and I almost felt bad for the woman. Almost.

“Rio Gibson,” Elijah and I said in chorus.

“That’s right. Okay, here we are.” She scanned the monitor, her eyes darting back and forth across the screen. “Looks like the initiator was Abbigail Gibson, with secondary contact Sebastian Shark. Oh, wait. That name sounds familiar.” The woman chewed on the end of her pen for a beat. “I think he’s a very generous donor of the center. I think his name is on a plaque somewhere around here.” She looked around randomly, as if she could spot the memorial from where she was sitting.

Pulling Elijah off to the side, I said, “I’m going to go find Rio. We’ll need to leave immediately, and if she’s still drugged to the extent she was when she called me, I may have to carry her.” He arched his brows, and I shrugged. “Not really sure what my other options are, man. But I think we need to make it quick. Bas usually has eyes and ears everywhere. I’m surprised he hasn’t stormed the front door already.”

“No shit. Well, what are you waiting for, man? Go get your girl.”

“She’s not my—”

Elijah tilted his head in doubt. “Cut the crap, Grant. We don’t have time for it right now. Not to mention, I’m not buying your bullshit anymore. Just go find her so we can blow this taco stand.”

I nodded once. Then again. Giving myself an internal pep talk more than anything. If I were being honest with myself, I was terrified of what I was about to find inside room twelve nineteen.

Jogging down a long corridor, I scanned the numbers on the doors until I found hers. I knocked softly and put my ear to the door. It was quiet, but I heard some movement, so I tried the doorknob.

Unlocked.

I slipped inside, turning my back to the center of the room while I closed the door as quietly as possible.

“Grant?” Rio’s soft voice instantly comforted me.

Until I turned to face her in the middle of the room. I couldn’t make sense of the scene before me. At least not for a few moments. Panic swelled in my stomach and thrust up through my lungs and burst out in a gasp.

“Rio?” I sucked in a lungful of air, not wanting to believe my eyes. I squeezed them shut, thinking when I opened them, it would all have been some silly trick of my imagination. There was no way I was seeing what I thought I was.

“Fuck! Rio? What are you doing, baby? What are you thinking?” I started toward her, but she held her hands up in warning.

“You shouldn’t have come in this room, Grant.”

“No. Come on, I’ll help you clean this up. Then we’ll get out of here.”

“They won’t let me leave. They know the truth. Hasn’t Abbigail told you? I thought she would’ve told everyone by now.”

“Move away from all of that stuff. Now.” I tried using my stern, dominant voice, but Rio just stiffened her spine and stood taller.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Grant. No one does. Because I’m the crazy girl. Oh, that’s right. You haven’t heard the news yet.”

“What have I told you about saying that?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway. Soon it will all be gone. They’ll all be gone. No one will know just how sad and lonely I really am. How lost and afraid.”

“Stop talking like that. Right now. Come here. I’ll take care of you, baby. Come here to me.”

I held my hand out to her so she would move away from the pyre she had assembled in the middle of the room.

Instead, she struck the small flint of a matchstick on the side of its box and held it up in front of her lifeless eyes. She dropped to her knees in the middle of the room as she watched the small flame dance in the draft. The glow reflected back twice, once in each pupil as she watched the fire burn away until it snuffed itself out.

“Rio, baby. Please. Come to me. Put the matches down and come to me.” I held my arms open to her, but she was too engrossed in her handiwork to pay any attention to me.