Page 152 of XO Karma

ASTER

Unlike the previous times I was here, I don’t give a flying fuck if I’m discovered. I came for one reason, and one reason only: find Lily. Or find out what happened to her and make that person—or persons—pay.

The ornate front door of the Westerford estate flies open as my motorcycle rolls to a stop before the steps.

Vetrel’s gun is in my waistband, sixteen bullets in the magazine, and I’m just itching to break the single rule I usually have during a fight. No gunfire. Because I couldn’t care less about honor or throwing the middle finger to my dad tonight. This is more important. She’s more important.

A man comes out the door as I unmount my bike. “Stop right there!”

“I need to speak with Jude.”

“Not tonight you don’t.” His tone is firm, arms crossed. “It’s two in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t give a shit if it’s Christmas. Tell him he’s got a visitor, or I’ll slam your head into the pavement and leave my message in blood.” I smile, and his jaw ticks, unsure whether to listen to me or puff his feathers like a rooster. A moment later, he disappears back inside. Smart man.

Five minutes pass until the door opens again, and Jude steps out wearing one of those godforsaken rich boy bathrobes. It’s maroon with a large W embroidered on the pocket. What a douche.

“To what do I owe this displeasure?” he grumbles.

“What work do you have with Jackson Carter?” I ask to start, because beginning a conversation with “hey, I think you’re a serial killer” isn’t usually the best. And I’m still not actually sure who it is. Is it Jackson? Is it Jude? Neither of them? Both of them?

His brows furrow, recognition fluttering over his eyes for a moment. In a blink, the expression is replaced by one of boredom. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“So you just write checks for $10,000 to every detective in Cleosville?”

“Ah, yes.” He pulls a cigar out of his pocket and cuts off the end. “I think we made a donation to their safety program.” He lights it, taking a quick inhale.

“I’d believe you if the check wasn’t written out to him personally.”

Blowing out the smoke, he holds my eye contact. “What are you really doing here?”

“Looking for a missing person.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Lily hasn’t been seen since yesterday,” I grit out, gauging his reaction.

“Oh,” he says, seemingly unaffected. “That’s a shame. She was such a pretty little thing.”

Why is he already talking about her in the past tense? Blood boils in my veins. She’s so much more than that. I take a step forward, and before I can reconsider, I’ve got the pistol out of my waistband, pointed between his eyes. “Tell me a reason I shouldn’t blow your head off right now.”

He brings the cigar to his lips once more, taking a heavy drag. Then blows the smoke out, the rich scent surrounding us. “Killing me would only solidify that you will never, ever find her body.”

My jaw ticks, but I can’t fight a small smile. He’s taken the bait and given me some very valuable intel. He was involved, and he knows who else was as well.

“I don’t know.” I dig the metal deeper. “I’m feeling risky tonight. Maybe I’ll just take my chances.”

“Now, now,” he patronizes, feigning bravery. Hope he has a diaper under that robe for when I scare the piss out of him. “Don’t go doing things you can’t undo.”

“Where. Is. She?”

“Get that pistol out of my face, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

I take a calming breath. In—two, three, four. Out—two, three, four.

When I holster the gun, his shoulders relax despite his attempt to appear totally unbothered.

“There.” He turns towards the house. “Now we can have a civilized conversation.”