Page 18 of Wicked Heat

I barely hear her. My head’s too full of protests. And fear.

It can’t be him.

I lift my head and my eyes meet Aria’s. “He’s a good guy.”

“He’s a guy with a reputation as a hot head who blows off serious steam when things don’t go his way. He’s a guy with a death wish.”

“The hell he⁠—”

“Have you watched any of his races?”

“He doesn’t race anymore,” I say.

“Why are you defending him?”

“Because…” I trail off, uncertain. When he first burst into the Starks’ life, Damien didn’t trust him. Not only were there whispers of assault and a possible murder cover-up, but he’d called Ash reckless. A guy who had something in him that he needed to burn out.

But I know Damien doesn’t feel that way now, and I’ve gotten to know Ash, too. He has an edge and a temper, sure. But a kidnapper? A blackmailer?

The thought is too horrible to even consider. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it. “He had nothing to do with the kidnapping,” I say firmly. “He wouldn’t have those tapes.”

And even if he did, he sure as hell wouldn’t be tormenting me.

Would he?

Seven

“How much do you really know about him?” Aria asks, putting a gentle hand on my knee.

Nothing, I think, but I’m saved from answering when the timer goes off. Although “saved” isn’t the right word at all.

“Should I stay?” she asks as I start to scan the QR code again.

In a flash, I reach out and grab her hand. “Yes. Please, yes” My mouth feels dry, and I know my palm is sweating. I regret the words as I say them, but I don’t want to take them back. There’s horrible stuff on those recordings—I know that. Even though I don’t remember it, I know it.

And maybe I don’t want her to see the horrible stuff. But she’s my best friend, and I think I need her to. I think if I’m going to see it—if I’m going to start remembering it—I need someone who’ll share the burden. And that someone is, always has been, and always will be Aria.

She meets my eyes. Just one small nod, and I know she understands.

On the phone screen, nothing’s happening. Just that spinning wheel that suggests a bad connection. Aria and I look at each other, panicked, and I’m about to reboot the Wi-Fi when the screen turns solid black and white text pops up again.

$3,000,000

That’s all it says. Then the number starts to flash, and an obnoxious Woody Woodpecker-style laugh comes through the speaker. But it’s not a joke, as the voice soon tells me. A low, distorted voice that I’m certain is computer generated.

“Three days, Brianna,” the voice says as Aria opens her phone and taps an app to start recording. “Three days to gather three million. And because we are true gentlemen, the clock will not begin to run until noon tomorrow.”

A low, tinny laugh rolls out. “You think we are not gentlemen, but you would be wrong. We give you these extra hours. And we give you our word. The money in exchange for these videos deleted from the web, the hard copies delivered to you for either safekeeping or destruction. Three million for the certainty of peace for you. The promise that this little blip in your past will not come back to haunt you or the pretty little Stark princess again.

“We could renege on this promise, but we won’t. As we have said, we are gentlemen. And the rules are the rules. And one of those rules is that you must abide as well. Stray from the path, and you will pay a severe price.”

I wince. Not from the words so much as from the way Aria’s grip is squeezing the bones in my hand together. And from the panic that’s racing through me. Three-million dollars? How the hell am I supposed to get three-million dollars?

“In case you doubt our sincerity, we take our lead from your very own Glindeon Brotherhood. That will be your price.”

Beside me, Aria gasps. The Glindeon Brotherhood is pure fiction. More than that, it’s fiction I created. An alliance of elf-demon hybrids who operate as a magical mafia that’s a constant threat to the heroine, Bethany. And the price they exact from anyone who crosses them is always high.

“As for the little girl’s payment for your failure….” The speaker trails off, that tinny, inhuman voice now fat with menace. “I’m sure the world will be more than interested to see what she witnessed. What she was part of. What you did in front of her.”