Page 28 of Mr. Match

I erase it all and type… I’ll see you in fifty-seven minutes.

Chapter Thirteen - OLIVER

“Oliver?”

I look up from the message on my phone and try to concentrate on what we’re talking about in the here and now.

“Did you hear me?” Mac says.

I nod. Then shake my head. I haven’t heard a word since they all followed me into Ariel’s office.

“He’s dead,” Mac says. Pax reaches for the remote on Ariel’s desk and flicks on the TV mounted on the wall.

“Who?” I ask, still preoccupied with Katya.

“Brutus,” West and Mac say at the same time.

“Who the fuck is Brutus?” I’m still behind. Can’t possibly catch up right now.

“Allen,” Mac yells. “The rock star. You know, the guy you took the fall for back in school? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Jesus Christ, Mac. No need to scream like a bitch. And I didn’t take the fall for anybody, let alone that asshole.”

Mac just shakes his head at me. “You’re a liar. You call West a liar?” He huffs out some air. “You’re still lying. At least the rest of us have come clean.”

As if Mr. Perfect ever had anything to come clean about. I’ve never seen him pissed off before. Mac is cool, calm, and collected every moment of every day.

Except this moment right now.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Oliver,” Pax says, pointing at the TV. “Look.”

I glance up at the newscast. Brutus’ face—Allen, whatever he’s called these days—is on the screen. Video of people outside his Santa Fe compound—mourners and fans all gathered there to be sad together.

The headline says, Rock Star Dead After Execution-style Shooting.

And then another face we all know well is flashed beside his.

“What the fuck is she doing on the TV?” I look at Pax. He shakes his head and exhales a long, tired breath.

“She was his girlfriend,” Mac says. “Do you get what’s going on right now? The media has just tied Claudette Delaney to Brutus. And now everyone is looking at you and Pax, because you two were there. Pax shot her, Oliver. Do you fucking understand where this is all going? They have connected us. Us,” he yells again. “To the murder—”

“It wasn’t murder,” Pax interrupts.

“—of Claudette Delaney. And Allen connects us to the Mr. Brown case.”

I scrub both hands up and down my face for a few seconds, realize I badly need to shave and try to focus.

But I don’t care. I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.

Katya is the only thing I think about right now.

“Nolan is pissed off,” West says.

“At who?” I ask. “Me? Pax? Because his piece-of-shit sister was some kind of secret society killer? Well, let me just fill you assholes in on something you don’t know, OK? My sister was invited into the Silver Society—”

“What?” Mac says.