Page 82 of Good Girls Beg

"My parents own the ice cream parlor," Victor said. "I live in the apartment above it. It'll be a good place to get our heads together. Figure out where we’re going to go from here. I mean, you're not going back to them, right?"

I didn't answer that. I was out of my mind if I'd even contemplate returning. Right now, we both need time to decompress.

"I know the place," I said. It was a block from Loams and Nefarious. I should go and see my fathers, but I didn't know what to tell them. Instead, I parked behind the row of stores and killed the engine.

"No one else is here at the moment. My parents have finished for the day." Victor stepped out of the car and waited for me before heading toward the back door. He pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked it.

"Home sweet home. Come on in." He stepped inside first and gestured for me to follow.

"I haven't been in here in ages." Ice cream and I had a love-hate relationship. I loved it, it hated my hips.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a sugar hit," he said. He pulled out a couple of cones from a box on the countertop. "You have to try the salted caramel."

“It’s my favorite,” I said, distracted as I glanced around.

“You have good taste then.” Victor scooped out a ball of the whiteish-brown ice cream, crystals of caramel glittering from the sides. He handed me the cone before scooping out strawberry ice cream for himself.

"I have to grab some things from upstairs," he said. "Then we can work out where we're going from here."

I'd already made up my mind. I'd eat this ice cream, then go to my dads. If anyone had the answers, it'd be them. They'd ask why we hadn't gone straight to the police.

Victor was going to have to answer that question himself.

"You okay?" He unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a set of stairs that must lead up to his apartment.

"I…" Was I? "I should be asking you that." I licked the side of the ice cream. He was right, it was delicious, but it didn't help settle my anxiety. Did they serve vodka here too? Probably not. Shame.

"I will be." His gaze lingered on me as I ate.

"Yours is going to melt." I nodded to the ice cream in his hand.

"Huh? Oh, right." He gave his a quick lick before he headed up the stairs.

I turned to look toward the windows, and the view of the street beyond. It was relatively quiet at this time of afternoon. Only a car passing here or there. No sign of three psychotic men wanting to lock me and Victor in the basement. Had they noticed he was gone yet? If they hadn't, they would. Unless they planned to leave him down there to starve to death. In which case, they wouldn't know he was gone until they checked on him to make sure he was good and dead.

The thought made my stomach turn. The ice cream didn't taste quite as good. The salt and caramel flavor lingered on my tongue. And something else. Was it a preservative? The chemical aftertaste was bitter. I didn't remember the ice cream tasting like this the last time I had it.

My head started to swim. Why was my vision blurry?

I blinked a couple of times but it didn't help. If anything it made it worse. My eyelids weighed a ton. So did my legs.

I made a grab for the countertop, trying to hold myself up. My knees gave out. What was left of my ice cream dropped out of my hand and onto the floor. I tried to call out for help, but the words that came out of my mouth weren't coherent to my own ears.

The world tilted and I ended up lying on the tiled floor behind the counter.

"I told you it was good." Victor leaned against the fridge, looking down at me. His smile gave me more chills than the ice cream.

He was the last thing I saw before everything went black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

OAK

Something was up.

I knew the moment I stepped into my bedroom. I didn't have to look at the camera on my dresser. The one hidden among the carefully curated piles of stuff. To anyone else, it would look like a mess. To me though? I knew where everything was. Nothing was there without a reason.

I stepped carefully around the room, glancing under the bed and behind the curtains. No one was there. I knew they wouldn't be, but I had to check. The risk of leaving someone unnoticed while I turned my back was unacceptable. What sort of security guard would I be if I did something that stupid?