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Annie, Jake, and RB.
I stop.
RB. The initials from the love letters. Annette’s secret lover.
Barretti.
Of course! The truth comes crashing in. How did I not put it together before now?
Roman Barretti and Caleb’s mother were having an affair. Annette Sterling was torn between the two men. But according to that last letter, she was planning to leave Jacob Sterling so that she could be with him. And than something must’ve happened to end it.
So did that mean… ?
Oh, my God.
Now, it all makes sense.
I reel back, shocked. I need to tell someone, but there’s no time. Who knows what trouble Caleb is in right at this moment? I can’t wait.
I pull on my clothes, and race for the door.
I know where Nero’s club is. It’s that place in that seedy section of town, where I saw Caleb hanging about, months ago. He’d tried to play it off, but I know the truth.
If he’s gone anywhere tonight, it’s there.
Outside, I hail a cab, and speed across town, my nerves growing. Nero isn’t a man to be messed with at the best of times, but after being locked up, and having Caleb accuse him so publicly of blackmail?
He’ll kill Caleb on sight.
They don’t know what I do. What could change everything.
I tap the glass. “Can we go any faster?” I plead, painfully aware of the clock running out.
The driver nods, and hits the gas, and soon, we’re pulling up outside the club. I barrel out of the car, and race to the doors.
A meaty bouncer moves to block my path. “We’re closed,” he growls.
“But I need to get in,” I protest. “I have to see Nero.”
“Never heard of him.”
I let out a noise of frustration, and look around, thinking fast. “Look, you need to take me to Nero Barretti right this minute,” I say, drawing myself to my fullest height, and staring the guy down like he doesn’t have two hundred pounds on me. “He called and told me to come here.”
“I don’t think so. You’re not his type.” The guy smirks.
“Do you really want to test that theory?” I demand, hiding my fear. “Do you really want Nero wondering why I’m not in there? And who, exactly, disobeyed his orders to get me in? He won’t be happy,” I add. “And you know what happens when Nero Barretti isn’t happy.”
There’s a pause as the guy thinks about that. “Fuck it,” he swears, and stands aside. “It’s your funeral.”
I hope not, as I make my way into the club. The place is pretty empty, just some shady looking people at the bar, so I try to look like I know where the hell I’m going, striding deeper into the dark, cavernous hallways.
Then I hear voices. Yelling. From up ahead.
I break into a run.
“Caleb?” I call, my shoes pounding on the floors as I race down the hallway. “Caleb, is that you?”
I throw open the doors—and stop dead.
