that.”
“Be a goddamn burger flipper. I’m not your fucking career advisor.”
“There he is,” I drawled. “Wondered where you’d gone for a minute, there.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Jay rolled his eyes. “Look, just—maybe consider it, yeah? If I had an opportunity like yours…” He drifted off, gazing right past me with a small frown. “Well, whatever, but just think about it.”
I was. The point of coming here had been to stop thinking about it. It hadn’t exactly worked out for me.
On the table, my cell started buzzing: Taryn.
Jay smirked, pushing his chair back to stand on swaying legs. “Speak and you shall receive.” He drained the last of his drink. “I gotta piss. Don’t wait up.”
At that, he left me, and I answered the phone.
“Hey, where are you?” she asked, calm sounding, which was encouraging.
“My hotel,” I lied. “Why?”
“I’m gonna come by, okay?”
“Right.” I stood, tossing some bills on the table—enough to cover Jay for at least a couple more hours at least. “I’ll be here.”
I cringed, breaking for the door, squinting at the burst of sunlight against my stinging eyes. My hotel was only around the corner and I quickly jogged there, shutting myself up in my room and splashing freezing water on my flushed face.
It wasn’t long before Taryn was knocking.
Chapter Nine
Taryn
Anna and Ethan left my place, my lengthy explanation to them in dire need of digestion.
I hadn’t seen Anna cry like that since we lost Mason ten years ago. Ethan was eerily quiet and wholeheartedly understanding. His father was just the man Mason had said he was and I pitied him for how he’d grown up.
No one deserved what William Foster had put the people I loved through; I never thought I could hate a person as much as I hated him.
And the ghost of him haunted us still.
How would we ever be rid of it?
I had an idea, and I’d run it by Ethan and Anna, but it was sheer madness. Mason was supposed to be the bloodthirsty killer but I was starting to realize just how easy it was to fall into that way of thinking. They had been shocked at my idea, as shocked as I’d been the moment it struck me, but as I’d talked, they’d started to get on board.
I needed to see Mason, though. If he thought it was insane, then I would trust him.
I called him and headed out to his hotel.
It wasn’t the flashiest of places, but it was the best in this town. I took the elevator up to the third floor and found his room, knocking just a few times before he swung open the door.
Straight away I could smell the tang of whiskey. “You’ve been drinking.”
Mason, still in his leather jacket and boots, obviously just arrived from wherever he’d been, perched on the edge of the king-sized bed.
“And?” he snapped, his mood clearly maudlin. “What, I can’t drink now?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Did I say that?”
“It wasn’t much of a hello.”
“You can talk,” I scoffed.
It seemed to deflate him and he sighed. “Give me a break, it’s been a rough day.”
I kicked the door closed behind me and leaned back against the wall beside the desk. “We’re having a lot of those, huh?”
“And you ,” he muttered bitterly, the sheets under his hands fisted into creases.
I felt a stab of anxiety, totally unrelated to the problems with Ethan. Mason was looking up at me darkly, his expression twisted by emotion, and I wondered if this was it, the crumbling of this strange truce we’d found ourselves in. Sex and intrigue could only sustain us so far, I thought with dread. My feelings for him were growing, but that didn’t mean he felt the same.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you make things cloudy!” he said, too loud in the quiet room. “You screw with my head!”
My throat closed up—outrage, now, not fear. I couldn’t speak for it— how dare he! It took me whole seconds to gather up my wits again, seething anger writhing
“Be a goddamn burger flipper. I’m not your fucking career advisor.”
“There he is,” I drawled. “Wondered where you’d gone for a minute, there.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Jay rolled his eyes. “Look, just—maybe consider it, yeah? If I had an opportunity like yours…” He drifted off, gazing right past me with a small frown. “Well, whatever, but just think about it.”
I was. The point of coming here had been to stop thinking about it. It hadn’t exactly worked out for me.
On the table, my cell started buzzing: Taryn.
Jay smirked, pushing his chair back to stand on swaying legs. “Speak and you shall receive.” He drained the last of his drink. “I gotta piss. Don’t wait up.”
At that, he left me, and I answered the phone.
“Hey, where are you?” she asked, calm sounding, which was encouraging.
“My hotel,” I lied. “Why?”
“I’m gonna come by, okay?”
“Right.” I stood, tossing some bills on the table—enough to cover Jay for at least a couple more hours at least. “I’ll be here.”
I cringed, breaking for the door, squinting at the burst of sunlight against my stinging eyes. My hotel was only around the corner and I quickly jogged there, shutting myself up in my room and splashing freezing water on my flushed face.
It wasn’t long before Taryn was knocking.
Chapter Nine
Taryn
Anna and Ethan left my place, my lengthy explanation to them in dire need of digestion.
I hadn’t seen Anna cry like that since we lost Mason ten years ago. Ethan was eerily quiet and wholeheartedly understanding. His father was just the man Mason had said he was and I pitied him for how he’d grown up.
No one deserved what William Foster had put the people I loved through; I never thought I could hate a person as much as I hated him.
And the ghost of him haunted us still.
How would we ever be rid of it?
I had an idea, and I’d run it by Ethan and Anna, but it was sheer madness. Mason was supposed to be the bloodthirsty killer but I was starting to realize just how easy it was to fall into that way of thinking. They had been shocked at my idea, as shocked as I’d been the moment it struck me, but as I’d talked, they’d started to get on board.
I needed to see Mason, though. If he thought it was insane, then I would trust him.
I called him and headed out to his hotel.
It wasn’t the flashiest of places, but it was the best in this town. I took the elevator up to the third floor and found his room, knocking just a few times before he swung open the door.
Straight away I could smell the tang of whiskey. “You’ve been drinking.”
Mason, still in his leather jacket and boots, obviously just arrived from wherever he’d been, perched on the edge of the king-sized bed.
“And?” he snapped, his mood clearly maudlin. “What, I can’t drink now?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Did I say that?”
“It wasn’t much of a hello.”
“You can talk,” I scoffed.
It seemed to deflate him and he sighed. “Give me a break, it’s been a rough day.”
I kicked the door closed behind me and leaned back against the wall beside the desk. “We’re having a lot of those, huh?”
“And you ,” he muttered bitterly, the sheets under his hands fisted into creases.
I felt a stab of anxiety, totally unrelated to the problems with Ethan. Mason was looking up at me darkly, his expression twisted by emotion, and I wondered if this was it, the crumbling of this strange truce we’d found ourselves in. Sex and intrigue could only sustain us so far, I thought with dread. My feelings for him were growing, but that didn’t mean he felt the same.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you make things cloudy!” he said, too loud in the quiet room. “You screw with my head!”
My throat closed up—outrage, now, not fear. I couldn’t speak for it— how dare he! It took me whole seconds to gather up my wits again, seething anger writhing
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