Page 22 of Shark’s Rise

Viktor Blake.

My pulse thundered.

“Jesus fucked a lizard,” I muttered—as a new fact of life smacked me in the face like a wet towel.

The charm. On the key ring. It was associated with that bastard. The hairs on the back of my neck, all sporting instinctual erections, confirmed it. The recesses of my brain just couldn’t put the exact details together. Not yet.

Not that I was about to waste time waiting on my goddamned gray matter.

I dug into my pocket, eager to grab my phone and get a text off to Elijah. He and Joel had gone out to town—if that was what it could be called—for restocks on groceries and other supplies.

When my fingers met nothing but pocket lint, I swore beneath my breath. I must have left the device in Abbi’s room—but I’d be damned if I was going back into that hornet’s nest anytime soon.

So, I enjoyed my drink and looked out at the property. For all of the five minutes I could stand it. Okay, so not much happened around here. As in, not at all. I could appreciate why the boredom might drive someone a bit to their limits. At the same time, being forced to unwind for a few days carried some of its own merit too. Abbi was going to have to find something to do with her time here. I really thought the gourmet kitchen would give her pleasure. If she wanted ingredients for culinary adventures, experimenting with new recipes, or just to cook for enjoyment, all she had to do was ask Elijah to get them. I’d given him, and the rest of the staff, carte blanche on what they had to spend. I’d ransom one of my own kidneys just to make the woman happy.

But she wasn’t.

At all.

And Elijah had helped make her that way.

I leaned my head back and let out a heavy sigh. Where had I gone wrong with those two? They were at each other’s throats with a stunning level of intensity. They either really hated each other that much, or—

I swore again and ordered the thought to fuck off. Too late. The nagging voice persisted, wondering if something was actually going on between them. As insane as the idea seemed, I couldn’t bury my head in the sand. Elijah was one of my best friends. And Abbigail was—

Well, Elijah knew what she was to me.

And while the man was sarcastic, arrogant, and annoyingly bold, he was also loyal, smart, and valued his testicles.

Which was why I could officially quash that stupid misgiving.

“Christ,” I muttered, slugging back more alcohol. I’d just used misgiving in a complete sentence. About myself.

I drained the last of my drink, rose, and then headed to the kitchen. I could no longer ignore the aromas emanating from there, filling the entire house with savory spices. My stomach growled loudly enough to echo back from the tile floor.

I nearly dropped my tumbler upon finding Abbigail cooking side by side with one of the estate’s staff members. I wasn’t sure if I should quietly turn in the other direction and just leave her to it or engage her in conversation. The decision was taken from me when she abruptly lifted her gaze, as if sensing my presence.

“Something smells fantastic,” I said with a natural smile, hoping to test the waters between us. “I came to investigate.”

Abbi copied my look, though it was an automatic expression. She could just as easily have been smiling at a stranger on an elevator or waving at the nosey neighbor from her Torrance condo days. “Martha was making mole sauce and asked if I wanted to help. I told her the other day that I’d never made it before, so she’s teaching me.”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt. I left my phone in the bedroom, and I just had an idea about that third charm.”

“Of course you did.” Her reply matched the neutral nothingness of her smile, but I stowed my irritation. Right now, I had to focus on deciphering that symbol. The sooner we found these mysterious bastards, the sooner I could give Abbigail what she wanted. What I wanted more than anything too. Her, back with me every day and night.

“Well, I’m going to call Elijah. We’re going to move on this shit as fast as possible.”

Abbigail simply nodded, not breaking the pace of her stirring. While tamping deeper aggravation, I headed down the hall.

I found my phone on the bed and saw I’d missed a call from Elijah. I hit redial without listening to the voicemail. He picked up after the first ring.

“Hey, man. We’re almost back to the house. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Unless you’re talking about an epic argument or the tirade that got me banished from the bedroom? Nope, not a thing.”

“Damn.” His tone was sincere. “Sorry, my friend. What’s gotten into her now, you think? Maybe she’s OTR?”

“Don’t be so crass,” I spat. “And it’s definitely not that. I have firsthand knowledge. She keeps saying it’s stress. I’d suggest her sister-in-law coming out for a few days, but the woman is a powder keg.”