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It’s an elevated diner, keeping the classic red vinyl booths and barstools and adding a modern touch with chrome accents and sleek wooden tables. A large counter with swiveling stools and a display case filled with assorted pastries and desserts.
It’s kitschy and quirky enough that it’s a local favorite, but polished enough to attract tourists and out-of-towners. The bell jingles when I walk inside, and the scents of maple syrup and freshly-brewed coffee waft through the air.
Slipping my sunglasses off and hanging them in the front of my v-neck, I scan the occupied booths for the infamous Carter shade of black hair. The diner is busy, even at this hour, but thankfully not too busy. I’m not sure how this conversation is going to go, and the less eyes on me, the better.
In the far right corner, with her back to the door and her head on a swivel, I see Elizabeth Carter in a booth. Wearing a pale peach blouse and big black sunglasses, she sticks out far more than she blends in.
The linoleum floor swallows my footsteps as I cross the restaurant, waving at the cook behind the counter. My approach to the booth is deliberate and only mildly confrontational. Given the day I’ve had, the fact I’m even here right now when I should be out combing the streets of Rosewood is a fucking feat.
I slide into the open side of the booth with my back to the wall, giving me a view of the restaurant. She startles in her seat, her shoulders jerking toward her ears.
“Lincoln St. James?” she hisses, glancing behind her like she expects someone to be with me.
I settle into the vinyl seat, widening my legs in case I need to move quickly. I look her over, immediately realizing my mistake. Upon closer look, Elizabeth looks nothing like her sister. This Carter is all sharp angles, wearing her disdain like a diamond necklace around her neck. Hair brassier than Evangeline’s, coarser maybe too.
“You don’t recognize me?”
She slides her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, her narrowed gaze shrewd as she looks me up and down. I jerk my chin up, giving her a minute to get a good look. I’m half tempted to let the mask slip and expose the snarling mass of chaos roaming underneath my skin.
Silas called when I was halfway here, letting me know that Aunt Dixie and Hunter made it to some safe house all of us forgot about. But Evangeline? She’s still unaccounted for. And that alone makes me feel untethered to this earth, like the chains I’ve grown accustomed to have slid down my shoulders.
Every man has a breaking point, and I’ve only recently realized that mine begins and ends with Evangeline Carter.
So while there’s part of me that wants to detail our first encounter all those years ago, my time and energy is best spent elsewhere for now.
Her upper lip curls. “Should I?”
I shrug casually, rolling my neck from left to right. I don’t expect her to remember me, but I haven’t forgotten her. It was only a few months after my night on the beach with Evangeline, and I mistakenly thought Elizabeth was her. In my defense, it was late as fuck and we were a state away. None of that is worth getting into now.
I rest my left arm along the top of the booth and smirk. “You’re throwing a lot of attitude for someone who called me for help.”
“I’m not asking for help.” She narrows her eyes over her sunglasses, nose wrinkling on the word help like it tastes bad.
I drop my arm, my patience thin. “Where is she?”
She grips her sunglasses between two pointy blue nails and sets them on the table. “Where is who?”
I exhale. “Cut the shit, Lizzie. If you have information for me, now’s the time to start talking before I walk out the door. Where is your sister?”
She leans forward, her eyes widening so much, I see a whole swath of white. “She’s not with you?”
My mind stutters at the genuine display of concern. It goes against everything Evangeline has told me about her sister. And I don’t know her well enough to determine if she’s playing me or not.
I clench my teeth together hard enough to feel the ache in my neck. “You said you came for my sister once. Now I need you to do it again. So here I fucking am, Lizzie. Now tell me where the fuck my woman is.”
She leans back against the booth, the leather barely creaking under her weight. She glances over her shoulder again. And if I wasn’t watching, I would’ve missed her tells. Her shoulders tighten and her weight shifts, like she’s going to spring to her feet any second.
I hear the reason why a moment later.
“Elizabeth Geraldine Carter, you bitch,” Coraline Carter seethes, storming to the booth and crowding Lizzie. “You went too far this time. Too fucking far.” She points her index finger in Lizzie’s face, her mouth twisted into a fierce scowl.
“You follow me, Carter?”
She turns her head to look at me with arched brows, but she doesn’t give her cousin an inch, half-bent over her in her seat. “You bet your ass I did. Now scoot over, Lizzie,” she snaps, sliding in next to her. She fixes her gaze on me. “My cousin is missing after those slimy fucks stormed the town and opened fire on the compound.”
“Who did?” Lizzie interrupts.
Coraline holds her index finger in front of Lizzie’s face, effectively shushing her. “We heard it all the way downtown, Bane. It was . . .” She pauses, shaking her head as her gaze turns inward for a moment. “And then you tear outta there like your ass is on fire, so I knew that it had to do with Eve. But what I didn’t account for was you.” She slides her narrowed-eyed gaze on Lizzie, shifting to face her on the bench. “What did you do?”
