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My heart beats so hard, practically ricocheting against my rib cage as my vision clears, and I will it to calm. Straightening from my chair, with shaky fingers, I carry my bowl to the sink, rinsing it and leaving it to be washed later.
Spoon in hand, I force myself to casually move to the freezer. When I open the door, the carton of ice cream sits exactly as it had in my memory. How long has it been there?
Instinctively, I’m compelled to guard my movements and intention even though I’m alone. I reach inside, my fingers curling behind the ice cream carton, and that’s when my heart gives another lurch. Because my fingertips brush against something that feels distinctively like an envelope that’s been wadded up.
I palm the paper between my hand and the carton before withdrawing it from the freezer and nudging the door closed. Hugging the ice cream to me, my spoon still in hand, I trod back to my closet.
I can’t say what urges me to mutter beneath my breath, “I’m going to be pathetic and drown my sorrows in ice cream,” but my heartbeat slows once I do. I could be fucking insane and paranoia is setting in. Who the hell knows…
What I do know is, I want to read what’s inside that envelope.
10
DANIEL
“Hey, handsome. You want some company?”
My jaw tightens at the woman’s hand stroking down my arm. Her fingertips graze over my tattooed skin before I ease away from her. “No, thanks.”
“Aw, come on, now. You look tense.” She leans in closer, and Jesus Christ, her strong-ass perfume assaults my goddamn nostrils.
Fuck me. I can’t even have a drink in peace. And, sure, she’s spot on with detecting how tense I am, but I’m not the kind of guy who pays for sex. Never had to and sure as shit never been that hard up. Even if I were, I haven’t been in the mood for it since Emilia’s murder. My mind’s been solely fixed on finding this Mac guy so I can pump him for answers.
The woman’s other hand lands on my thigh and starts gliding up toward my crotch. I stop her with a firm hold on her wrist, and turn to face her.
My icy gaze has her freezing in place, and I move her hand away from my dick and release it. She lets it drop limply at her side and snatches back her other hand from my arm, nervously licking her lips.
“No means no.” I raise a brow. “And that’s what I said.”
Her lips stamp together thinly, and she turns up her nose. “Don’t gotta be so rude.” Spinning around, she mutters under her breath, “Figures the hot, fancy-dressed ones are assholes.”
She can be pissed all she wants. In fact, she’s in good company. My patience is frayed as fuck, and I’ve hit more dead ends lately than I thought was possible.
When I exit the bar—yet another one named Freebird—I stride to my car, hoping like hell my next stop in Mandarin Springs pans out.
11
MAC
I curl up in the rear corner of my closet in the same position I was in that flash of memory. Sucking in a lungful of breath, I press my thumb and finger together, immediately immersing myself in the silent stillness.
Popping off the ice cream carton’s lid, I serve myself a small spoonful. Savoring the sugary sweetness lighting up my taste buds, I shove aside the edginess and muster up the bravery to see what’s in that envelope.
Carefully, I unfold the cold envelope, lifting the flap to find a slip of paper inside.
My breath lodges in my chest at the sight of my own penmanship, because I sure as hell don’t remember writing this.
Check the brown shoebox. Try to remember! Don’t give up.
Don’t show this to anyone or tell a single soul. Your life is at risk if you do.
Don’t let him make you into a monster.
My head spins with confusion. What the hell? Don’t let him make me into a monster? What kind of dramatic bullshit is this?
I toss a glance at my closet door almost expecting someone to be lurking, but of course, no one’s there. I set the ice cream aside and leave the spoon sitting on the lid before scooting closer to where a few shoeboxes are stacked in the corner.
When I spot the brown one, my stomach leaps, my throat going bone-dry as I lift it onto my lap. I’d left this for myself to find because, somehow, I knew I’d forget. But why all the secrecy? What’s the reason I need to hide this when I never have anyone around?
