Good Lord. Alarm bells screamed in my head. “Uh, Thorne?”
She waved me off. “Hey! I didn’t do anything, so I resent the implication! This is someone else’s mess. Not mine.”
Mess. Yup—I felt that deep in my bones.
“Well…” she dragged the word out, then plunged in. “Remember the bar I told you about? And the Princess of New Orleans who bought it?” She paused. “Uh-huh. That’s the one. Anyway, she’s apparently got herself a bit of a stalker situation?—”
The alarm bells chimed louder. A stalker? No. That wasn’t right. Was it? Someone broke in and proceeded to ruin all my belongings. Yikes. That really did sound like the definition of the word stalker. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.
“Uh-huh. I figure we hang out around the bar, wait and see if they come back, then”—she studied her fingernails—“scare the ever-loving shit out of them. If it escalates, well…as I said…”
“We’ve buried bodies before…” my mind finished the sentence for her.
“What do you mean what’s in it for you?” she gave a displeased huff. “What about the warm glow of sibling loyalty?” She rolled her eyes, then shot me a glance. “Do you care if your stalker actually bites the dust?”
I stuttered a nonsensical reply.
“See, Rick? She cares. Some people don’t approve of murder. Let’s save that for our next family dinner, ’kay?”
Holy shit. What was I getting myself involved with here?
She heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll owe you. Is that good enough?” She paused. Then, “No.” Pause. “No.” Pause. “No!” Another pause. “Ugh, fine. I accept your stupid terms. How long till you’re here?” A beat passed. “Perfect. See you in ten.”
She ended the call, turned to me, and clapped her hands once. “Reinforcements inbound.”
Reinforcements. Right. Of course.
A nervous flutter tickled the inside of my stomach, and I glanced toward the window.
Rue was still out there.
Lucien had called bright and early this morning to check in, to ensure I was still alive and in one piece, which thankfully, I was. He’d informed me that Rue would remain on watch until further notice. When I’d inquired about her basic needs—sleep, bathroom breaks, food, etc.—he’d assured me in typical Lucien fashion that he had it all well in hand.
Which meant she was still out there. Somewhere. Maybe the Wolfes wouldn’t spot her? I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her since last night. But what if they saw her?
From what I’d gathered from that short but alarmingly distressing phone call, the Wolfes were of the dramatic sort and possessed poor impulse control. And while I hadn’t understood much about Rue, I did get the sense the Wolfes had a personal graveyard where they dumped the body of anyone who pissed them off.
If they caught wind of Rue, shit would go down. I wanted to avoid any and all murder, if possible. It tended to cause problems with law enforcement—wait, did Eternity Falls even have a police force? I made a mental note to ask about that, then continued processing my situation.
The way I saw it, I had two options.
Option A: Call Lucien and ask him to give Rue the day off. That, however, would require an explanation as to why I suddenly had a second security detail en route.
Or…
Option B: Tell Thorne about Rue.
Now, while that option seemed the simplest, I foresaw questions. So many questions. Like: Why is Lucien St. Germain’s head of security watching your bar? And why is Lucien even involved in this? Those questions would inevitably lead to deeper, more personal questions I wasn’t ready to answer. Or even think about.
I rubbed my face with both hands. I had only a few more minutes before Ricky came charging through the door. I needed a plan—and ideally, a bunker.
Thorne had drifted toward the shredded pile of clothing now sitting on my bed. She held up a mangled blouse and frowned, then muttered something about me needing a whole new wardrobe. I didn’t respond because, well, no money. And no money meant no new clothes. I would just have to make do with what I had.
“So…” I said slowly, choosing my words like I was disarming a bomb. “There’s something you should probably know before your brother gets here.”
“Brothers,” she corrected absently, shaking out a pair of pants. “Yeah, these are toast. Maybe we can repurpose them though?”
Brothers? So more than one was coming?
