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Her smile drops. “Why? Is he a murderer or something?”
I roll my eyes and flip through the book until I find a page I’d dog-eared. “Listen to this Daisy. Have you ever heard this before?Beneath the veneer of the mundane, a mosaic of wild dreams was etched.”
“No. But it’s weird. What does it even mean?”
“That’s not the point. The point is that Levi Maverick read those very words at the signing last night. Where’s your book? Let’s look it up.”
She winces. “Shit. That guy has it. Henry, I think. Remember he said he’d get it signed for me?”
I smack my hand to my forehead. “Crap. That’s right. No matter.”
I pull out my laptop and find the book online. As soon as I buy a digital version of it, I return to my phone, where it pops up in my Kindle app.
“Look. I’ve got it right here. Let’s do a search.”
Daisy peers over my shoulder while I click on the app’s magnifying glass icon in the corner to do a search. I enter the words ‘beneath the veneer.”
Holy fuck.
There it is.
“Oh my God, Dais. Levi fucking Maverick wrote the Ryder fucking Night book.”
22
LEVI
Of course.
Of fucking course.
She knows. She figured it out. She’s no dummy. She was always going to figure it out.
God, I could kill Wyatt. He’s lucky we’ve been friends since we were kids, and that I beat his ass good back then, at least a couple times, so I don’t have to do it now. Much as I’d like to.
“Wy, get off the phone,” I growl.
He frowns at me from his kitchen where he’s propped his ass up on the counter. “Yes. Yes, I understand. Look, Mom, I gotta go. The guys are waiting on me.”
Henry arrives next, bursting into Wyatt’s apartment because we all have his private elevator code. He takes a seat across from me and looks pale. He shivers in his jacket even though it’s a nice day outside, like he knows something bad is just around the corner.
“Mom. Mom, yes, I will pick you up on the way. We’ll go together. It will be great. Okay. Love you too. Bye.”
Wyatt, who has no idea what I have in store for him, swipes his phone closed and arches his neck like he’s trying to shake out the tension of what is probably the fifth time he’s talked to his mother today.
Ever since his father died, his mother is all up in his grill, day and night. Can’t blame the woman. I’m sure she’s lonely, and Wyatt’s an only child.
“She wants to meet with me,” I say.
Henry drops his head into his hands while Wyatt settles into one of his cool designer chairs.
“What? My mom wants to meet with you?” he asks cheerfully.
“No, Wyatt. Not your mother,” I say, practicing self-control.
His mother can’t stand me. Still blames me for sending Wyatt to juvie all those years ago. Can’t blame her, really.
Wyatt perks up. “Well then, who wants to meet with you, Levi? Meet some hot babe at your signing the other night?” He perches on the edge of his chair, excited and waiting for some juicy hook-up story.
