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I shove those thoughts out of my head as I read through the report of the person Smith sent out to look for a good time to break into the office. But I’m getting the feeling it might be better to just walk in with Scarlett. And maybe her father being out on business, or whatever the prick’s doing, is the perfect opportunity for that.
Grant, whom I did speak to, is in a frenzied state. Though there’s something about it I don’t like. He’s worried about the business, and yes, he’s worried about his kid, but I thought I’d have to convince him to keep the cops out and me in. But he’s fine with me handling it. He’s angry it happened, tried to lay blame at my feet, but…
Maybe both brothers are fucking pricks.
I ended the conversation. Told him to sit tight, and I’d be in touch when I have something, but that wheels are in motion.
Which they are.
“Any word?”
I glance up at Scarlett. She’s in one of the pretty, sexy dresses I got her.
“Not yet,” I say. “But with these things, when they want something and are trying to stir emotions to stop people thinking so they can get whatever the fuck it is they want? This is what people do.”
“And that means what?” She hovers, then sits and reaches out for my coffee. I think about putting her in her place, but I don’t. I let her take it. This is also part of the game.
“It means I get to play it my way and your cousin stays safe.”
She nods. “What’s the plan?”
“Go to work, and as soon as they contact me, I’ll let you know.” I meet her gaze. “If you hear anything, you let me know.”
She’s silent a long time. And then she says, “Anything you need. I’m ready for all of it.”
THIRTY
scarlett
All through the workday, I’m on eggshells.
I jump every time my phone vibrates, but only texts from Lacey come through.
Where the fuck are you???
That’s her latest one. And the morning’s been so busy, it’s not until lunch that I can get back to her.
Hey, Lace. So sorry.
C’mon, Scarlett, it’s me. You’ve been weird since we got that dress.
A lot’s been going on, I send. I’ll explain later.
Your stuff’s here, girl, she says.
I know. Trust. I’ll explain later, I text.
There’s a pause, the little dots flashing on the text screen. Okay. Let me know when. I’ll get the pizza and you get the booze. Gotta go. Glad you’re all right.
Trust. The word comes back to haunt me. Trust. I just asked my friend for that when I gave her nothing at all, and she gives me that precious commodity without question, just love.
I waver a little. I’m not—I’m not in love with him. I can’t be. I gave him my trust because I needed to. Because it’s the only thing I can do to help my cousin.
He’s our only chance, and it’s not my complicated feelings for the man saying that. It’s not even the twisted need he sets off in me.
It’s gut instinct.
The center gets even busier as the day progresses since one of the therapists is out. But it’s not until six and I’m packing up that I get another text.
