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“Are you trying to buy my silence?”
“Like I said. I’m trying to help. I don’t agree with the cartel’s more violent antics. If you don’t stay quiet, theywillkill you. I see this as the best option for you.”
“How on Earth is this the best option? You want me to give up everything I’ve ever known. You want me to move to God knows where and let you get away with this?”
His eyes were steely and cold. “I take it that’s a no.”
“I’m not taking your money. I won’t be complicit. What’s to stop the cartel from changing their mind and killing me at a later date?” I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. “I’m telling everyone. Media outlets. Your clients. The police. There’s no way I’m going to let this slide.”
He sighed, closing his menu with a hard snap, and the restaurant fell completely silent. There wasn’t a hint of conversation to be heard. No clinking of utensils on plates. No shuffling from inside the kitchen. Complete stillness.
I looked around, alarmed. What was going on?
Alistair McCloud snapped his fingers. Everyone in the restaurant stood up and vacated their seats, save for the handful of intimidating men who I now realized all had snake tattoos coiled around their throats.
Molly was right.
It was a trap.
“Gentlemen,” he said to the two men nearest us. “Please take Miss Jones to the freezer. I think she needs to cool her head.”
Chapter 32
Jesse
Lance was still woozy, shaking off the last of the sleep aid. The pot of tea Vivian had brewed for him sat forgotten on the coffee table, half-empty.
“She could have killed me,” Lance grumbled. “What if I overdosed?”
I glanced toward the kitchen, noting the scrap piece of paper hastily shoved beneath the toaster. It was covered in numbers and equations. She’d done the math, I realized, because of course she did. Vivian was too smart to just dump a bunch of medication into a man’s tea. She took the time to figure out the proper dosage, accounting for every milligram of diphenhydramine.
If I weren’t so worried about her wellbeing, I would have been impressed.
“How did she even get her hands on the stuff?” I asked him.
Lance rubbed at his eyes and groaned. “She had me order her some things. Said she was having cravings. Ice cream, sliced banana peppers, chamomile tea, the damn sleep aids… I didn’t think twice because she’d been having trouble sleeping since she got here.”
“Ice cream and banana peppers?” I echoed, curious. “Did she eat them separately, or at the same time?”
“Does it matter?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. That particular combination of foods struck me as odd. When Melissa was pregnant with Wally, she’d craved odd combinations of foods as well. I shook the thought from my head. I needed to focus.
“You said she took your keys?” I asked him. Finding Vivian before she could get herself into trouble was my priority here, not dwelling on her strange eating habits.
Lance nodded. “Yeah. She must have swiped them straight from my pocket.”
“Good. All the company cars are fitted with onboard tracking in case of theft. I’ll call Devin and have him pull the vehicle up in the system. Should lead us right to her.”
“Devin again,” Lance mumbled. “Isn’t it his day off today? He probably won’t take too kindly to being disturbed.”
I frowned. “Again? What do you mean again?”
“Miss Jones asked me for his phone number.”
“Did she say what for?”
Lance shrugged. “Something about her laptop not working. I didn’t think it was a security risk to give her the number. He’s one of ours, after all.”
