Page 72 of Pretty Nightmare

“Wait.” I rub my temple with my finger, a fucking headache starting up. “Who the fuck is Vincent?”

“James’s twin.”

“Wow.” I shake my head, tab the little button on the door, and roll the window down. Because I need air. “Do I have a twin?”

“Not that I know of, why?”

“Because everyone but me seems to have one floating out there in the ether.”

“Well, you’re not Untouchable. So no. There is no other McKay out there. My point is, I specifically asked Vincent if he had heard anything about Nick being alive. And he said no. But you”—he glances over at me—“you knew. James told you. Why?”

“I just told you. I was running—”

“Under James’s orders.”

I hesitate.

“That’s what you told me this afternoon, McKay.”

“No. For fuck’s sake, Adam. What’s wrong with you? I just said Beck and Moore showed up and I assumed they were from James.”

“Jesus. You’re leaving things out on purpose. Aren’t you?”

“I just told you it was Nick, didn’t I?”

“Five hours late by my standards.”

“Anyway. Beck and Moore ended up being there on the orders of Nick. So I did what I was told because you could barely walk back then and shit needed to get done.”

“Do you know where Nick is now?”

“No. I haven’t heard from him since Beck, Moore, and Nathan were presumed dead.”

“That was nearly four years ago. This whole thing started nine years ago, McKay.”

“I am aware.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been in contact with Nick Tate for nine. Fucking. Years?”

“It’s not like that, Adam. Jesus. After the massacre at the Savannah party, Nick just… disappeared.”

“It is like that! Don’t you understand? Nick Tate is the missing fucking link. You could’ve told me this earlier, McKay. I could’ve had people on this already. Now Nathan is calling you, and Carter is out there, planning who knows what, and we’re all sitting here like a bunch of fucking ducks. Waiting for the shit show to come to us!”

He turns into the driveway of Old Home and I press the button on the gate clicker attached to the driver’s side visor.

Two minutes later we’re parked, he’s getting out of the truck, Donovan is pulling up behind us, and of all the ways I thought we might be spending tonight, Adam walking away pissed at me wasn’t one of them.

Maggie and Donovan follow Adam into the house, but Indie comes up to me and hooks her arm around mine. “What are you doing?”

I run my fingers through my hair. “Nothing.”

She smiles up at me. “It’s our night, McKay.”

“Yeah. It is, I guess.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing, Indie. Sorry. Adam and I just had a disagreement. That’s all.”