Page 278 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“They listened.”

Ronan looked toward the ceiling. Then the desk. The lamp. The charger. Everything suddenly looked wrong.

“How long?”

“I don't know.”

The phrase sounded different now. Terrified instead of evasive. Ronan called Vance again. Voicemail. Elliot moved toward the dresser. Ronan blocked him.

“No.”

“I need something.”

“What?”

“Screwdriver.”

“Why?”

Elliot pointed toward the smoke detector. Ronan followed his gaze. Small white circle. Red light. Ordinary. Except it wasn't their smoke detector. Ronan stared. “What?” Elliot stepped onto the desk chair. Ronan grabbed his waist automatically to steady him. Elliot twisted the device. It came free. Two wires. Battery. Normal. Then Elliot turned it over. A black dot sat beside the battery compartment. Tiny. Perfectly round. Ronan’s heartbeat stopped. “What is that?” Elliot didn't answer. He didn't need to. Microphone. Maybe camera. Maybe both. Ronan stared. Elliot climbed down. They stood shoulder to shoulder looking at the device. Someone had been inside. Not once. Not recently. Long enough ago to install it. Long enough to hear everything. Arguments. Sex. Confessions. Mason. Lucas. Five names. Ronan’s lies. Everything. His phone vibrated. Neither wanted to look. Ronan did anyway. There you go. Another message. I was wondering how long it would take. Elliot stared. Ronan felt something inside him turn cold. The watcher knew they had found it. Which meant the device wasn't only listening. Or there was another one. Ronan slowly looked around the room. The phone vibrated again. Now bite back. Ronan stared at the words.

Elliot looked at him. Neither spoke. Then somewhere downstairs, glass shattered. Both turned toward the door. The patrol officer outside shouted. A second voice followed. Then a gunshot cracked through the night. Ronan’s entire body locked. Elliot grabbed his wrist. Hard. “Stay behind me.” Ronan stared at him.

“You have nothing.”

“I know.” Another crash downstairs. Footsteps. Inside the house. Elliot looked toward the hallway. His entire face changed. Ronan saw it happen. Fear disappeared.

Tenderness disappeared. The sweet college student vanished. What remained was the person beneath all of it. The one Ronan had spent weeks trying not to see. Elliot released his wrist. Then smiled. Small. Cold. Terrifying.

“Good.”

Chapter Twenty-Three — One Little Lie

ELLIOT

TUESDAY · 2:03 A.M.

Someone was downstairs. Elliot knew the difference between a house settling and a person moving through it. Floorboards had rhythm. Pipes clicked. Old wood groaned beneath temperature changes. People hesitated. That was what he heard now. A pause beneath the bedroom. Then one careful step. Another. Whoever had entered the carriage house was trying not to be heard. The attempt made Elliot smile. Ronan saw. His face changed immediately.

“Don’t.”

Elliot looked at him.

“What?”

“That fucking face.”

Another footstep sounded below. Closer to the staircase. Elliot’s smile disappeared. He reached toward the nightstand. Nothing useful. Phone. Lamp. Glass of water. Ronan caught his wrist.

“You said no knives.”

“I gave you my keys.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“Ronan.”

Another sound. A cabinet opening downstairs. Elliot’s entire body tightened. Whoever this was knew the house. Or was searching. The storage room. The mask. Fuck. Elliot stepped toward the door. Ronan blocked him.