Him and every other person under Zebulund’s thumb. I nod solemnly, holding his gaze.
“Fine. I’ll pretend to give you a big speech about how you didn’t hear this from me. But honestly, whaddo I care? I want the world to know. I want someone to do something.”
“I’m your girl.” I’m pouring all my determination into my voice.
“All right, you asked for it.” He purses his lips. “Zebulund has a small house in the mountains about an hour’s drive north, outside of the city traffic.” The color fades from his face. “He took me there once. Made me give him a BJ and then took a picture of it. Told me he wanted to be a team but just wanted to make sure I stayed on his side. I really thought, even then, that he cared on some level about me. I’m an idiot.”
The admission stuns me into silence. I’m furious for him. I want to scream. Another of Zebulund’s victims.
“He won’t keep getting away with this.” It’s a promise. The venom in my voice causes him to look up at me.
“Anyway.” He glances away again. “There’s a computer there and a remote hard drive. Not attached to the Internet. He keeps backups of everything there.”
He’s so pitiful. So broken and sad. And this is all Zebulund’s fault.
“What he did to you was not your fault. You were the victim. He had power over you and he took advantage. You’re not a bad person and you didn’t deserve it.” I repeat what Roe said to me, hoping to give him comfort.
His eyes are glossy and close to tears. He sniffs and his jaw flexes.
“Thanks. But you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
* * *
I stareat my phone in disbelief. It’s ringing. It’s ringing, and it’s O.G.
I wanted it to be Roe returning my nine hundred calls. There’s so much to tell him, about Viktor, about the cabin. As much as I don’t want to get him involved any more he deserves to know the truth. That Zebulund has people following us, but more worrisome is that he’s likely trying to find a way to blackmail Roe. Please don’t let it be too late.
I feel a hint of dread. But I think of Roe. His touches. The way he looks at me and the things he’s shared with me. There are no secrets between us anymore.
My thumb hovers over ignore. O.G. and I have never talked on the phone; our only communication has been texts.
Ignore. I can’t think about O.G. right now. The phone immediately starts to ring again. I slide to accept the call.
“Hello?” I say hesitantly.
“How nice of you to finally answer.” The voice is unrecognizable. I mean truly. It’s robotic. It’s both masculine and feminine. It’s being filtered through distortion and layered.
This is so weird. It could be awkward but it’s O.G. We’ve been something like friends for years.
“Well, I’m driving and it’s hands-free in city limits, you know that.”
“But you’re outside the city.”
“Creep,” I say, only slightly kidding. Because it really is weird that O.G. always freaking knows where I am. Ew, what if he can see me peeing? I shake my head.
“It’s what I do,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So you’re probably wondering why I called.”
“Sure am.”
“Too much to text. But you need to know. It’s about the accounts you asked me to watch.”
“Okay, is this a conversation I should pull over for?”
“Yes.”
Well, that’s ominous. I do just that at the next gravelly turn off. It’s more than halfway to Zebulund’s mysterious cabin. The sun is setting and in my eyes, another reason to pull over. I debate waiting until tomorrow night, when I’m supposed to meet with Roe, but I’ll be in and out quickly. I’m about to announce that I’m stopped but O.G. knows that.
“I did some more digging on your fella.”
