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Natalia’s expression darkened. She looked down, fingers curling at the edge of her table.
“I don’t know what to do, Ryden.”
She knew there was no way any of us could make it right. The damage was already done.
Shaking my head, I walked out of the room. Shayna gave me a worried look.
“I’m sorry about this mess, boss.”
“Not your fault.”
She gave me a hesitant look. “It’s not the editor’s fault either, boss. She has been running around like a headless chicken since that article was printed. She tried. You biting her ass off is wrong.”
“Where the fuck is Thatcher?”
“In his cubicle. He looked scared,” Shayna said with a grin.
He was sitting with his laptop. He jumped up when he saw me there.
“The anonymous tip you got—”
“It’s not yours.”
“Don’t test me, Thatcher. I don’t have the patience to play your fucked up games,” I said with a glare.
“I have the right to protect my source.”
“Not when your source might be a fucking killer. I know you care about nothing else, but if he is caught, you will have a bigger storyline.”
His grin twisted. The greed in his eyes…
He bent down and grabbed a folder. There were a bunch of papers in it. He pulled one out and handed it to me.
There was the tattoo in the middle of it. And three small photographs were pinned to it: Sofia, Nikki, and Rose. At the bottom, it said, I will kill her again.
And then some psychotic rambling of a man who couldn’t be helped.
He must be killed.
“Where is the envelope?”
“I threw it away,” he said, standing up. I glared at him.
“Threw it away? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing in the envelope. No address. No prints. It looked like he personally dropped it off.”
“Did you check the CCTV?”
“I’m not a fool. I checked. He knew how to bypass the cameras.”
“You are a fucking fool,” I said, turning away.
“You’re just jealous I hit the jackpot, and you lost.”
I punched him in his fucking nose.
Thatcher let out a high, startled yelp and stumbled back, hands flying to his face. Blood dripped from his nose, spilling over his upper lip.
