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“There’s a lot we need to talk about. Isn’t there, Raymond?” I ask, spearing him with a look that hopefully leaves words unnecessary.
He knows exactly what I want to ask him about.
“You have questions.” He maintains his calm posture, but the muscles in his shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly. His eyes turn to slits before he forces them to relax and adopt a wide, guileless look. “Shouldn’t we wait until Ellie’s here?”
He’s deflecting. I know he is.
Perhaps he believes that Ellie’s presence will stop the barrage of questions I’m desperate to ask him. Or maybe he thinks I’ll be too terrified to ask what I’m truly thinking if she’s around.
But he’s wrong.
Ellie knows about our past, and she has never looked at us differently because of it. I want fucking answers, and nothing—not even Ellie’s presence—will deter me from getting them.
“Why did you choose me?” I ask at last. No bullshit. No beating around the proverbial bush.
I expect Raymond to swat away my question the way he would an annoying mosquito, but he surprises me by answering.
“Because I knew you loved her.” He takes a sip of the dark liquid, his eyes never leaving my own over the rim of the glass. “And I also knew you were fucked up enough to do what needs to be done.”
My heart claps like thunder in my chest, and a strange feeling arrows through me. It takes me a second too long to put a name to that mysterious emotion.
Guilt.
I was so fucked up, even as a boy, that this random stranger took one look at me and decided I would make a great serial killer. And the problem is…he was right. As soon as I realized the truth about POP and the threat it held for Ellie, I didn’t hesitate to do what needed to be done. I killed without hesitance, slicing through my enemies with a brutal lethality and efficiency.
“And before you ask your next question, I never led you astray. All the names I gave you were dangerous men and women. They were not only members of POP but also…” He forks his fingers through his dark hair. “Well, you don’t need to know about POP’s extracurriculars.”
“Do you mean the app?” I gauge his reaction carefully, studying each miniscule tick in his jaw and the widening of his eyes.
Shock colors his features, and this time, he doesn’t even attempt to conceal it. “How the fuck do you know about that?” He loses his cool composure and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“How long have you known about that?” Rage bubbles and hisses just beneath my skin. I hate being lied to. And I hate being someone’s damn puppet even more.
Raymond chugs the rest of his drink and then cleans his mouth with the back of his hand. A multitude of emotions flicker to life in his eyes before they settle on one—despair.
“This time, I’m being serious when I say we should wait for Ellie.” Pain lances across his face as he attempts to take another swig of his empty glass. He eyes it with disgust, as if he forgot he just finished it, and then sighs heavily, sagging back into the couch.
“Why should we do that?” I scowl and fold my arms over my chest. My fingers itch to wrap around the hilt of my knife. I want to jab it into this fucker’s throat and watch him bleed out all over his furniture. Only the knowledge that he has answers—answers we so desperately need—keeps that impulse at bay.
He’s lucky Zane isn’t here. I’m sure my psychotic friend wouldn’t be as forgiving.
“Because.” Raymond closes his eyelids and takes a deep breath. When he reopens them, the despair in his eyes has morphed into anger, hotter than a white-flame and just as blistering. “Because Ellie’s parents were the ones who created the app in the first place.”
13
RYKER
Ikiss Ellie like I need the air in her lungs to breathe.
I kiss her like the world can fall apart around us, but the two of us will remain, suspended in time.
I kiss her like she’s my horizon, and nothing exists beyond it for me.
I kiss her like I’m the only man in her life, not one of five.
The force of my kiss sends her flying backward onto the bed, her brown hair splaying around her, and I make sure to put most of my weight on my elbows as I follow her down. Thank fuck, my cast only extends from my wrist to my elbow. I would go insane if I wasn’t able to touch her.
“Ryker,” she whispers, digging her fingers into my dark hair and tugging.
