Cal looks back at me again, a question in his eyes aboutwhat to do next. Whatever he sees on my face causes him to turn back to Brandon with a threat. “You should go.”
“You have my number, Frankie,” Brandon says. “Call me if you want more info.”
He leaves and Cal slams the door shut behind him before turning to me with a mixture of hurt and worry on his face.
A thousand questions tumble through my head, but the only thought that comes out is, “I have no idea how he found me.”
A staggered breath follows, and Cal pulls me into his arms. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I am now.” I press my cheek into his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Breathing in the smell of leather, soap, and a hint of something wild and animal-like.
Cal squeezes tighter, then releases me. “Will he follow you…us?”
I shake my head, then shrug. “I doubt it. He’s an investigative journalist. If he follows us, it’s for info. To know something no one else does. Not to hurt me. Not to hurt you.”
“Depends on how he uses the info. My guess is someone will get hurt.” Cal glances at the door as though he’s rethinking telling Brandon to go.
“I think the worst he’d do is tell Malcolm where I am,” I say. “For a price.”
“And what price is Malcolm willing to pay?” Cal asks.
I swallow. “He paid Bran at least a million dollars to stop publishing stories about him and walk away from the deal he’d made to write a book about Malcolm.”
Cal raises his eyebrows.
“Malcolm got off cheap. Bran should have asked for more. Maybe he did.” I shrug. “But that’s all I was worth to him. A million dollars.”
“He shouldn’t have taken any money and instead shouldhave done the right thing by you.” A storm cloud rolls across Cal’s face.
I choke out a sad laugh. “I meant Malcolm.”
Cal tips his head with confusion, then the storm clouds are gone. All I see is shelter as he pulls me into his arms.
“I can’t sort out what Malcolm wants,” I say into his chest. “But Brandon’s telling the truth about him being sick.”
“How can you know that for sure?”
“Bran’s a lotta things, but he’s not a liar. He prides himself on his integrity.” I step out of Cal’s embrace to look in his eyes. “He went into journalism to find the truth and share it—or at least his version of it.”
Cal blows out his breath and rakes his fingers through his hair. “We all have our own versions of the truth, Frankie. That’s my worry with him. What if he’s telling you all this to win you back? Or what if Malcolm is using him to manipulate you?”
His eyes bounce away from mine, and I grab both his hands.
“Whatever I do, I’ll do with eyes wide open. I won’t let Bran or Malcolm manipulate me anymore.”
Cal tips his chin and nods but without any certainty.
I don’t blame him. I’m about as steady as a newbie on a surfboard with a set of wicked waves behind her. One thing I’m certain about, though, is my relationship with Brandon. It’s over.
“What’s next, Frankie?”
I look at Cal, and with all the emotions swirling in my chest, I find calm in his eyes.
So, I ask him the thing I reckon we both want to hear. “Go back to the ranch? Try to figure things out there?”
Cal chews his lip. He doesn’t say nah, but he doesn’t say “righto, let’s do it” either. He says, “Let’s get your car.”
I blink, then remember. My car is still at Flamingo’s.
