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How convenient.
Tennyson had the bright idea of starting at the dorms, and I had the wonderful idea of smoking them out, but it was quickly vetoed.
Unfortunately, Blake and Reese never came here, but his roommate knows where they rendezvoused. Either he’ll tell me, or he’ll burn with his secret.
“What about his girlfriend?” The word stings as I force it out.
The no-name shakes his head rapidly. “Haven’t seen her.”
What a shame.
Bach glances back at me as I pace, weighing my options. If we kill him, it sends a message. If we don’t, it sends a message. Decisions, decisions.
“Well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do,” I coo, eyeing Simeon and Tennyson, who demanded they come and be part of the chaos. Simeon has sat quietly under Tennyson’s palm, waiting for release. And Tennyson… well, he’s lounging on the bed, enjoying the scene before him.
“If I can’t convince you, maybe he will.”
A wicked smile breaks out over Tennyson’s face. He brushes a hand over Simeon before dropping it onto the covers. Like a soldier, the mutt charges forward, his teeth bared and threatening.
“Wait!” the boy yells, squirming under Bach’s hands. “Wait! Blake did come by for a minute around midnight. Said he was meeting someone, but I was half-asleep, so I didn’t ask questions.”
It’s amusing how information magically appears when people’s lives are on the line.
Tennyson claps his hands, and Simeon stops, becoming completely compliant. If only it were that easy.
Tsking, I lazily march forward next to Bach, whose hand tightens around the dipshit’s windpipe. “That’s not good enough. Brothers, I’ll let you decide his fate.”
Clapping Bach’s back with my palm, I turn to the door before dropping an unlit match onto the floor—a reminder for later.
“I have a wife to find.”
Reese
Blake is such a pussy.
Orange Grove’s police chief is his uncle—and even he fears him.
I look at Shakespeare to my left. His eyes dart all over the property as we descend the front stairs.
“If you’re scared,” I tease, “you can always stay in the car, like Blake.”
Which I’d rather he do. The odds of Blake’s uncle telling me what I need to know with a killer by my side are low. Not that I know for sure Shakespeare is a killer, but with the vial of poison around his neck and the vacant look in his eye, it’s pretty believable.
“Didn’t your husband tell you?” He clucks his tongue. “I love some good family drama.”
I try to smother the laugh, but it’s no use. Shakespeare has been quite the charmer. “Hopefully, there won’t be any drama.” I raise my hand to knock on the door. “As long as the chief gives me the information I need, this will be a peaceful conversation. “
An evil grin that seems proud emerges on Shakespeare’s face.
“Spoken like a true Cain. After your stint in solitary, maybe your husband will agree.”
His words are an unhappy reminder that Van will be pissed when he finds out where I’ve gone. Even though I’m doing it for him, he won’t care. His rules are law. Unfortunately, like my husband, I only answer to the law of a higher power.
“He’ll be fine,” I lie before knocking on the door.
“Whatever you say, princess.”
Before Shakespeare’s cheery attitude about my doom can affect me, the door opens, revealing Chief Benton, clad in jeans and a flannel shirt.
