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“Grant Williams and Sawyer Ambrose,” a familiar voice calls from across the restaurant, and my blood runs cold. “Just the men I was hoping to find.”
Tripp Daniels strides toward us in all his southern California glory. His unnaturally white teeth stand out against his tan and his blond hair is tousled like he just walked off the Santa Monica Pier. The only thing that speaks to the savagery we now know he possesses are his cold eyes.
“Tripp.” I compose myself quickly. Part of me dies as I extend my hand for a handshake from this fucking piece of garbage, but I already know we have to play it safe. “Long time. What brings you to New York?”
“Looking for my wife actually.” He stares us both down as he speaks. “I thought she might come looking for you. She’s unwell, you see. Liv’s been fighting mental health issues for the past few years. Ever since her parents’ unfortunate accident.”
I can feel the anger radiating off Grant as I struggle to push my own down into the depths of my soul. “I haven’t seen her.” I look over at Grant. “Have you?”
“No, it’s been years. I can’t believe you would even think she’d come to us. Doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“That’s odd.” Tripp holds up a grainy photo of Liv and Grant from last night in his office. It looks like they’re having sex in his chair. “Because this woman looks an awful lot like Liv. I mean, this bitch is a little fatter, so it could be a mistake.”
I feel Grant vibrating with anger, so I kick him under the table. “That’s one of the dancers from Seven.”
“Right.” He gives us both a disbelieving look. “Liv was always pretty cold in bed, too. Like a limp noodle, you know? Never knew if she was done until you threw her against the wall to see if she sticks or slides down.”
My vision starts to go black around the edges as I fight for every ounce of control I can find. I manage to give him a tense smile. “I don’t remember ever having to wonder if she was satisfied after being together.”
His fake smile falters before growing even more psychotic. “That’s right,” he points at us, “I forgot you guys used to pass her around. Glad I was man enough to correct her whore-ish behavior.”
“I haven’t seen her, and neither have the rest of us.” Grant stands up. “We actually have another meeting to get to across town. Good seeing you, Tripp.” He shakes his hand and stares him down. “I’m sure we’ll run into you again soon if you’re staying in the city.”
“I’ll be here until I find my wife and take her back home.”
We start to walk away, and I stop, turning back to him. “What makes you think she’s in the city?”
“Easy.” A cold smile crosses his wretched face as he speaks. “She’s got no one left. Her parents were killed in an accident. Tragic.”
I can feel the tension pulsating off Grant and know my own matches his. I jerk my head in a nod and follow a step behind Grant out the front door of the restaurant. We don’t speak until our driver pulls up, and we slide into the blacked-out SUV.
“That motherfucker knows,” Grant yells as soon as we’re inside. “He fucking knows.”
“He does. We cannot let him get his hands on Liv.”
“I will die before he lays one finger on her.”
“We need to get her out of the city again.” I look out the window to see pedestrians passing us by as we sit in midday traffic. “I’ll text and see if Nolan and Lake are with her.”
“I’m going to text Griff. I need to know how he got a picture of her and I together in my office,” Grant says as he pulls out his phone.
I unlock mine and pull up our group chat.
Sawyer: Are you guys with Liv?
Nolan: Yeah, got in about an hour ago.
Lake: She’s sleeping. What’s up?
Sawyer: Tripp approached us after Grant’s meeting. He was asking about Liv.
Lake: Does he know?
Sawyer: It appears that he does.
Grant: He didn’t outright accuse us though.
Sawyer: And we obviously told him we hadn’t seen her.
