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“You want the job or not?”
“Can I know a bit more about you first?”
With a bored look on his face, he said, “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know… What’s your line of work?”
He answered the question without hesitation. “Drugs.”
He was a drug kingpin. No surprise there. “What kind of drugs?”
“You don’t look like a user.”
“I’m not,” I said quickly. “Just wondering.”
“Coke. Meth. Heroin. The whole kitchen sink.”
“And…what kinds of dinner parties are these?”
He studied my face for a long time, showing the patience of a monk. “You’ll never be in danger, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just have to rub elbows with men in high places to get my products across borders.”
He was probably no more dangerous than Grave or Cauldron.
“Any other questions?”
“You haven’t told me your name.”
Silence. A very long stretch of it. His eyes were so still, his face so lifeless, it was like he hadn’t heard me at all. Then finally, he said a name I’d never heard before. “Bartholomew.”
12
ELISE
I couldn’t bring myself to contact Jerome.
I didn’t want to go back to that.
The first thing he would do would be to call Kyle—and fuck that.
Days passed, and Grave didn’t contact me. I was far too proud to contact him and would rather die than make the first move, so I suffered in silence. I suffered the way I suffered when my husband left me for someone else. There were tears in the privacy of my bedroom, tears that I wiped away the second they fell.
How did this happen? How did I get here?
After my kids went to bed, I watched TV in the living room. I was curled up with a blanket, ready to fall asleep on the couch, when my phone vibrated beside me.
I didn’t pick it up right away. There was only one person who ever texted me this late.
With my heart in my throat, I looked at the screen.
I’m outside.
I read that message over and over again, even though it was just two simple words.
I know you’re awake.
What do you want?
To talk.
