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And somehow, with my steps that seemed so loud to my own ears, she didn’t notice me until I asked, “Make what go away?”
Her soft gasp filled the space between us and her body flinched, but she didn’t look at me.
I wanted to lie beside her. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and pull her close. But I didn’t know how to be in a room with her without hating her. I’d been certain I’d spent my days and nights with the real Jessica, but now I didn’t know how to convince myself that any of it was real.
For what seemed like a lifetime, she didn’t answer. She just stayed still, staring.
“Everything.”
Everything was a tall order . . . even for me. “Let’s start with why you’re here.”
“Don’t you know?” she asked, bitterness filling her voice. “How would you know where I was if you didn’t know the why?”
“I can guess,” I said softly. “And I need it to be wrong.”
“He wants me for . . . his uses,” she murmured after nearly a minute.
I wasn’t wrong.
It took everything to stay still when I wanted to go hunt Mickey down for taking what was supposed to be mine. But if the ghost was real, then the order to kill Conor was too.
“Mickey?” I asked, his name coming out as a growl when I was struggling so hard to stay calm.
“Who else?”
“Conor said there was another man. I need to know who that is.”
“His errand boy. His driver.” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know; don’t you all know each other?”
“He doesn’t have a driver, Jessica. I need to know everything about him because he’s not Holloway, and he’s somehow slipped past me.”
She gave me a look like she wanted to apologize, but nothing left her lips. And just as quickly, the look faded. “I know nothing. He’s never spoken a word to me. He stalks me for Mickey. Anywhere I am, he’s there in a black SUV. I told my brother and he ran the plates. Came back to some woman.” Her eyes searched mine when my breathing slowed. “So angry, Nightshade.”
I tried to force my breathing to quicken, but everything went so dark when I realized two truths.
Mickey had been stalking her. Mickey thought he owned her.
“How long has Mickey been following you?”
“You and your timelines.”
“How long, Jessica?”
Her gaze drifted back to the ceiling. “He doesn’t. The driver does everything for him.”
I bit back a groan. I didn’t have time for this. “How long has the driver been following you?”
“I’m not sure. A few weeks before Mickey hired me. So, a few weeks before I met you.”
“About the time Mickey’s been out of jail. And he was here while Mickey was hiding,” I mumbled to myself.
“Yes,” she said slowly, drawing the word out as her eyes drifted to me.
“Does he?”
She lifted a brow, but it looked like that slight movement drained her.
“Does he own you?”
