Page 117 of Scoring Eden

I answer for her. “Yes. But not immediately, and it had nothing to do with the money. We were very clear about that when we entered this…arrangement.”

Zora nods, flicking her gaze to a spot on the wall behind us as she thinks. “Well, that certainly makes things more difficult. The problem isn’t sex work itself, but it’s moving a child in with a client that is considered a severe safety concern. Now, I understand that that wasn’t the situation, however, Sebastian has already managed to convince a judge, so disproving it may be an issue.”

“So, there’s nothing we can do?”

Zora frowns. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

“Forgive me, but you didn’t seem particularly confident either.”

“I’m a lawyer, Alex. And a good one at that. I know what I can do, but I’d be doing us all a disservice if I allowed you to believe this will be a process devoid of struggle. Leave it all with me, and I’ll contact you as soon as I have an update.”

That’s a dismissal if I’ve ever heard one.

Thanking her, I gently peel Eden out of her chair. Tucking her under my arm, I lead her out of Zora’s office and into the elevator, where we travel thirty-five stories down to the ground floor. She’s silent, and I can’t blame her. Despondent, too, and I feel the same way, though I wouldn’t be a help to anyone if I let myself fall into it.

I have to be strong for her until this shit works itself out. Be the anchor she needs to keep her from drowning. Protect her with kindness, tenderness, and understanding, because this isn’t a problem I can solve with my fists—even if I can’t think of anything better than slamming them into Sebastian’s face until something breaks.

There’s nothing else I can do.

There’s nothing either of us can do.

Nothing except wait.

THIRTY-FOUR

ALEX

As it turns out, I’m not very good at waiting.

Because after listening to Eden sob into her pillow until four a.m., when she finally fell asleep, I snapped. This ends today. I don’t know how; I just know that it has to. Because if I’m forced to watch her cry to the point of dehydration any longer, then I might end up with a murder charge.

So, I did what any insane person would do and FaceTimed Aspen.

“So, here’s the plan,” she says, cramming one of Macon’s black fedoras into her backpack, alongside a lock-picking kit and what looks to be a pair of night vision goggles. Where she even got those from on such short notice is lost on me. “I’m gonna head to Sebastian’s place of work while he’s dropping Macon off at school and break into his office.”

“Wait, what?”

“Focus.” She waves me off. “While I’m doing that, you are gonna go to Macon’s school and drop off his phone and Mr. Snuggles at the front office, just in case our plan doesn’t work, and slash Sebastian’s tires while he’s in the car line. Comprende?”

Calling her was a terrible idea. I know that now. But lesson learned. I’ll never turn to Aspen in a crisis again.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” We’re whispering because Eden is only down the hall, and not only do I not want to wake her up this early when she’s had so little sleep, but I want her to maintain plausible deniability when this inevitably goes south.

She rolls her eyes. “To stall him, dumbass, so that I can find something incriminating enough to take the fuckface down.”

“Do you even know if there’s anything to find?”

She snorts. “Of course there is. He’s shady as hell. Always has been.”

“Right, well, this is on you.”

I guess that’s how I find myself loitering outside of an elementary school at seven a.m. in a ball cap and sunglasses, looking completely comfortable in my surroundings and not at all suspicious.

Glossy leaves tickle my nose as I peer around the side of an evergreen bush, trying to catch a glimpse of Sebastian’s car. Not that I even know what car he drives. Idiot that I am, I didn’t have the foresight to ask Aspen before she sauntered off on her espionage adventures. But I can imagine, given the type of man he is, that he’s chosen a vehicle to compensate for whatever he’s lacking in his pants. That is to say, I’m looking for a red convertible sports car…or a monster truck.

My phone buzzes inside the pocket of my black hoodie.

“Come in, Agent Whiskers. This is Command.”