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“That’s what I thought. Until she rejected me, and I realized she’s still under your sick spell. So it seems like I’ll have to get rid of you to free her from it.”
Without my pistol in my waistband, the closest weapon is hidden near the front doors. The buzzing in my ears drones louder as my pulse quickens. “And how exactly do you plan to accomplish this?”
A sickening smile sweeps across his face, nodding down at my scotch. “You tell me, Author. You wrote it.”
This Book Will Haunt You. A novel with one of my most controversial endings—the struggling writer is poisoned by his biggest critic before being buried alive.
Trevor poisoned my scotch.
My heart thuds harder. “If I recall, you referred to my ending as ‘cheap’ and ‘predictable.’”
“And now you’re experiencing it for yourself. You see it now, right? But hey, who am I to rewrite your work? This is your life, and you’re the author. And if that doesn’t do the trick.” He pulls up his shirt to reveal a pistol on his hip. “I brought a backup plan.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck?—
“Who was the woman in the photos? The one you followed around California.” The words drag from my mouth, limbs growing limp.
“My soulmate.” His throat bobs. “I’ve already lost Mack. I’m not losing Briar too. I’m sure as hell not losing her to someone like you.”
“Mack?” With the last dregs of my energy, my gaze flashes up to his.
Mack. Briar’s best friend. My personal assistant. With blue eyes that are an eerie match to Briar’s. A natural brunette before she bleached her hair.
The images of her on Trevor’s computer were too blurry to identify her.
She managed to escape him. Until he tracked her to Maine. Unable to find her when he finally arrived.
That’s why he chose Briar. He couldn’t find Mack, so he tried to take the best replacement he could find.
My pulse is slowing from its breakneck speed as I grind the words out. “If you . . . loved her . . . why did you . . . hurt her?”
Trevor’s fist squeezes around the glass in front of him. “You have no idea what the fuck I did or didn’t do to her. I loved her. More than you’ve ever loved anyone.”
I manage a breathy chuckle. “If you . . . loved her . . . you would’ve been . . . faithful to her. To your grave.”
Briar will realize that someday. That I was loyal to her every moment since I met her. Even if that revelation doesn’t come until after I’ve taken my final breath.
“Speaking of graves.” Trevor rises, chair grating across the floor. “Briar is too blind to see how much better I am for her while you’re still around.” He approaches as my eyes fall shut. “So there’s only one solution to that, isn’t there?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BRIAR
Fucking Trevor.
Of course he’s the one behind all of this. Typical “nice” guy controlling his girlfriend and tracking her down across the country.
When he couldn’t find Mack, he found me—my resemblance to her uncanny. I became a decent substitute to the real thing until he realized I’d never feel the same way. Now he’s doing the only thing men like him know how to do in the face of rejection: retaliate.
I call Saint again.
The phone rings. And rings.
No answer.
Fuck. We may already be too late.
“Do you want me to call the police?” April offers.
