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You could hear the guy from the entrance of the mansion with the way he walked.
I was standing in my room, flipping a knife to calm myself while I waited, when he finally opened the door and stormed in.
He skidded to a stop then looked me up and down. “Why do you look like you knew I was coming?”
“You texted me,” I reminded him.
“Yeah. An hour ago.”
“You’re loud.”
“Or you’re a mutant and you’re just not telling me,” he said with a huff then dropped heavily to sit on the edge of my bed. “Jesus fuck.” He drew out the last word when he got a look at the wall near my bed.
It had every one of my knives sticking o
ut of it.
Except the one rolling between my fingers.
She told me she’d give me the night, and I thought I’d be able to change her mind.
When she stayed through the morning and early part of the afternoon, I thought maybe I had.
I’d run downstairs to grab some food and had come back to find her gone.
And now I didn’t know how to take back every decision I’d made.
I didn’t know how to turn back time.
I didn’t know how to find her even though I knew the path she took.
She was a wraith. She’d disappear from my life forever with as much thought as it took for me to imbed a knife in the wall.
None.
“Uh . . . wanna talk about it?”
Did I want to tell Beck that I’d fucked the girl he used to love long ago? That I craved her in a way that drove me insane? “No.”
“All right then. So . . .” His eyes narrowed on the knife I was flipping in the air. “Do you have to do that?”
I caught it and gripped it in my hand. “Do you have to send me an emergency text and then keep me waiting?” I gritted out.
“Right, right.” He pulled out his phone, his finger sliding over the screen as he spoke. “I think I might have an idea who our ghost is.”
One of my eyebrows lifted, but I didn’t respond or move closer to him. I just waited.
This is what I needed to take my mind off her. To stop me from tearing up the entire goddamn state to find her.
“Remember the guy who was coaching Mickey in how to start the human trafficking ring?”
“William. Killed while Mickey was in jail. The whole ring was taken down.” Beck already knew this. “Even if he hadn’t been, Mickey wanted to be better than William. He wouldn’t have hired him for anything.”
“No. But . . . he would hire the man William trained to replace him.” Beck held his phone out to me, waiting for me to take it.
I scrolled through the list of dozens of faces.
Then did it again.
