“I hope you’re not here because Anton didn’t pay up,” he jokes. “That’s why I don’t play poker with you and him anymore.”
“I actually have a favor to ask you.” I show him the photos I pulled from the website for ZyloPay, the fintech company where Nathan works, on my phone. “This woman lives here, yes? I know you aren’t supposed to give out this information, so I’ll take your silence as confirmation.”
I show him Nathan’s photo then Truman’s. “Did this man come in here with this dog tonight?”
The doorman licks his lips nervously, eyes flicking to my brothers. Hawthorne’s playing with the baseball bat, tossing it in the air and catching it with one hand.
“I need that dog.”
“Look, you did me a good turn when my sister was sick…” Now he looks sick.
I hold up a hand. “I know this could get you fired and blacklisted. Say no more. I prefer to publicly humiliate my victims anyways. Boys, let’s go.”
“I thoughtwe were going to beat someone up,” Scout complains as he rides on the luggage cart filled with Jenna’s stuff that Isaac pushes off the elevator.
“McCarthy’s a little bitch and pussied out,” Isaac tells him.
Hawthorne cuffs him. “Watch your mouth. I know Hunter doesn’t let you talk like that.”
“You should hear McCarthy.” Isaac glowers at me.
“McCarthy’s not supposed to be cursing, at least according to his ten-step plan.” Fitz shoots a shit-eating grin at me.
“That’s why he can’t get a girlfriend,” Henry says matter-of-factly as they roll the cart into my penthouse. “You have to take care of a woman.”
“You’re six. What do you know?”
He’s shocked and offended. “I’m seven and a half.”
“Same difference. Besides, Jenna’s hiring me a girlfriend,” I say petulantly, because I’m not above arguing with my kid brothers. “So I will have one. Now get out, and don’t eat my food,” I warn as Scout’s already fishing around my fridge, getting his sticky hands everywhere.
“Fitz!”
“Let’s leave the beast to his rampage.”
“Did you do all this?” Isaac is shocked at the state of my living room.
Hawthorne gives me a sympathetic look.
“Leave me alone. I need to fix Jenna’s phone.” I can’t look at Hawthorne as he herds our brothers out.
Jenna’s phone is a disaster, like she is—caked in mud, waterlogged.
Pulling out an electronics cleaning kit, I go to work, then I force the phone to power down, plug it in, and let it boot back up. When it reinstalls the update, I put in the pin code I’d seen her enter in my car.
The phone blinks for a moment, then an avalanche of messages pours in—horrible, threatening, disgusting text messages, talking about her body, telling her she is worthless, threatening to make her life hell if she doesn’t do what they say. They’re cowards hidden behind unlisted or unknown numbers.
I scroll through them, hot rage turning to cold fury.
Why is Jenna acting like everything’s fine, that she has everything under control?
I kick myself for not just dragging her to the police station when I wanted to.
Upstairs, Jenna’s curled up small in my bed.
My robe, which she’s wearing, has fallen off one shoulder.
I make out the curve of her breast in the light from the hallway. In my hand, her phone vibrates.
