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“I’m Sloan’s Make-A-Wish every fucking night.”
His face goes sour. “Lowering her standards,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t be surprised. She crawled out of the gutter for a minute with me, but it’s really not a shock she jumped back in it. She’s always been low-class. Makes sense, I guess.”
I ought to slug him. But honestly, I’m so taken back that he’s this stupid that I freeze for a second. Surely he’s not dumb enough to talk shit about Sloan directly in my face… right?
He laughs. “She’s got you all twisted up, huh? Don’t worry. She’ll get spooked and run. It’s her M.O.”
“You sound like you still have it bad for her. Bad enough to stalk her?” I advance on him. Perhaps sensing the danger for the first time, he backs up—but it’s too late. There’s nowhere to go. “Bad enough to hide behind threatening stalker letters like a fucking coward?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t hide from shit.”
He is all big attitude and unearned bravado, but… I also believe him. A greasy douche like this is too brash to hide behind stalking her by letter. He would taunt her in public, to her face.It’s the audience he cares about. He wants people to see him being a bully.
So when I hit him, it’s not because he’s the stalker I’m hunting for.
It’s just because I fucking want to.
“Hide from this, motherfucker.”
WHAM.Bone breaking beneath my knuckles has never felt so good.
The boys let me handle it; I don’t need their assistance with this piece of shit. I finish what I came to do, then leave Mr. Jameson Parker in a groaning, bloody puddle as we load back up into Dixon’s truck and embark back on the Whack-A-Stalker mission.
This list is ten guys long. Jameson was the first, which means there are nine more assholes to confront.
But nine pit stops later, all I have is nine more unsatisfying encounters I wish I could scrub from my memory.
“Sorry, guys.” I’ve dragged them all over Seattle, and we haven’t found anyone I would consider as the slightest hint of a threat to Sloan. “I really thought this list would lead somewhere. I wasted your day.”
“Fuck it, man. We don’t care about a wasted day. And who says it was wasted anyway?” Colin could be stuck in the desert without food or water, without any kind of protection from the sun or shoes and still, he’d find bright sides. He’s good like that.
“We’re here for you,” Dixon adds. “Whatever you need. When baby Beck gets here, we’re here for him, too.” he shrugs. “Or her. If you get a girl. Except Colin. He doesn’t like kids.”
“Colin doesn’t like anyone,” chuckles Adrian. “Lucky for him, the feeling is mutual. By which I mean that no one likes him, either.”
Now that we’re back at the arena gym, it’s easy to be cool about all of this. Here, it’s abstract. Here, we’re not Adrian, Dixon, Beck, and Colin. Here, we’re the Wave. It’s easy to think we’re untouchable.
But that’s only here. Outside of here, it’s my job to protect my family—and today has been a miserable failure.
I’m dreading the idea of going home to Sloan, of looking at her and telling her I still have no idea who’s doing this to her.
To us.
To my fucking family.
I will figure this out, though, one way or another.
No one touches what’s mine.
40
SLOAN
You deserve someone who loves you with all of his soul. Your boyfriend is a vile playboy, incapable of emotion. But I have watched you from afar, seen your smile. It breaks me every time I see you turn it on him. The rage burns inside of me. I want him to die. I want it to hurt while it happens.
I crinkle the letter. Beck saw yesterday’s edition, so he doesn’t really need to see this one. He’s pissed off enough. This will only add more fuel to the fire.
Before I can get rid of the evidence, though, Beck comes in. “You ready for the doctor, ang—What the fuck?Anotherone?” He stalks toward me and snatches the paper out of my hand.
