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Who the fuck did this and why?
“It’s a botched job. That tattoo is the name of Stefanie’s little brother that died over ten years ago from Leukemia. She hardly ever talked about it, but I saw her tattoo plenty of times. This is all wrong.”
“Then this isn’t your girl.”
“No. She’s not.” I knew that now. This proved it.
I needed to find my girl—like yesterday. All this time, and she probably thought that I abandoned her. Agony spread across my chest as I thought about all of the time we lost together. But worse, much worse, was the idea that someone was hurting her all this time, and I wasn’t there to stop it.
“This girl in the coffin needs closure. I can help with that.”
Nodding, I let Twitchy take the remains. I didn’t need them. Not now.
It was time I went looking for the final piece in this puzzle. The Russian responsible for all of these crimes and taking my girl away from me. The rest of it? I didn’t care.
The only thing that mattered was that this wasn’t Stefanie.
My girl wasn’t dead. Whoever this was, she wasn’t my light and my oxygen. My star still breathed, and she was waiting for me to find her.
Somewhere, out in the world, my Stefanie was still alive.
