“I’d bet that’s what he’s banking on.” My brother’s voice was quiet. “If he’s your best friend, he knows all your fleshy spots to stick a sword.”
“Lance.” My voice was low and threatening.
“What? Am I lying?” He turned in his chair to bring his screens alive with a shake of his mouse. “What’s this guy’s full name?”
“Christopher Eldritch, based out of Los Angeles.”
“Any other houses?”
“Apartment in Mexico. Not sure exactly where.”
Windows popped up and flicked from one end of the massive screen to the other. Lance kept shouting for information like his birthday and who he worked for. It was all dizzying.
I went to Dutch and lowered my voice. “Did your friend Bastian do a background on him?”
Dutch shook his head. “He asked me if I wanted him to, but I was just so worried about my name getting dragged through the mud that I backed off.”
Lance didn’t look away from his screen. “And why didn’t you go after this guy?”
“Because my reputation is linked to his. One whisper of plagiarism can end my career.”
“And you know the book is being plagiarized? He’s not taking it hostage? Well, fuck. Never mind.”
“What?” Dutch and I went over to look at his screen.
Lance moved over to show a publishing announcement for a multi-million dollar offer for an up-and-coming author.
“Lana,” Dutch whispered.
“You know her?” I glanced up at him. His eyes were flint gray and I was happy to see anger there. Not at himself. Not at the situation, but at the actual culprit.
“It’s Christopher’s girlfriend.”
TWENTY-SIX
Dutch
The basement seemedlike it was closing in on me with the low ceilings.
The screen jittered as my blood pressure hit new heights.
“A dark, psychological thriller following a woman’s descent into madness as she fights her way out of the Great Basin Desert and away from the traffickers who will do anything to capture her.” Lance read off the screen. “Sold to a different publisher.” He named one of the New York elite houses who didn’t usually publish horror books.
But that wasVantage Point. It was tweaked and I’m sure changed just enough—flipping the protagonist and adding a subplot.
My book.
Phoebe’s cool fingers slid around my forearm. “Dutch, you can’t let him get away with this. You have to go to your publisher.”
I hadn’t been able to face it until now, but there was no denying facts at this point. “What can I do? I have no proof. And the story is just different enough that I couldn’t possibly prove it. Especially since I don’t have a copy.”
“Don’t say never.” Lance turned around in his seat. “If this asshole has a backdoor into your system, that means I have one into his.”
“Really?”
“If you trust me.”
His eyes, so much like Phoebe’s, glowed with purpose. “Let me help you take this sucker down.”
