“I hope you enjoyed it. No amount of money is worth someone’s life.”
“It wasn’t supposed to go down the way it did.”
“Tell that to the families who lost men that day.”
I keep trying to tell myself Everett won’t hurt Devyn, that Stevie will only scare her again, but I’m lying to myself, the way McAllister is, trying to avoid guilt and responsibility.
The warehouse is huge, a glowing ball of security lights in an otherwise black field.
McAllister parks, and we’re one of a handful of cars in the parking lot along with commercial vans decorated with Stevie’s Sweetshop logo—a piece of hard candy wrapped in pink cellophane.
He slams out of the truck, and I follow. “We’re just going to walk right in?”
“Do you think she has anything out in the open? Do you think they’re going to tell you anything? They ran Devyn Scott out of Cedar Hill—for knowing the truth. They did the same to you—where have you been for the past two years? They always get what they want, Mercer. Don’t you understand that by now?”
The front doors aren’t locked, and we walk past an empty receptionist’s desk.
The son of a bitch knows exactly where to go, and I follow down a tastefully decorated hallway to a meeting room where Stevie and Everett are standing at the window, looking out over the dark highway. They could literally see us coming from miles away. A huge model of a hotel sits in the corner, and I don’t have to study it to know it’s what Everett would have built had he been able to buy the land Beau and I purchased for our own hotel. It must have eaten him up when I wouldn’t sell after the accident.
“Rick, what a pleasure! What can we do for you?” Everett asks, reaching his hand out as if we’re good friends, or at the very least, civil business associates.
I’m not falling for anymore bullshit. “Where is she?”
Stevie blinks her large grey eyes, a smug smile outlining her mouth. “Who? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She resembles a cat, high off cream. Her fiery red hair is a cascade down her back, her sweater embellished with faux fur at her collar and wrists. She acts like one too, lithe and lethal.
I push the panic away. It’s been hours now since Devyn went to talk to Neil Simpson. “You damn well know who I’m talking about. Where’s Devyn?”
Stevie shrugs. “I don’t know. Are you having trouble keeping track of your own girlfriend? It sounds like a personal problem. McAllister, what are you doing here?” Her upper lip curls in a grimace of disgust.
“Mercer made me come.”
“You always were a spineless twit.” Everett sneers.
“Apparently a lot of my crew were,” I mutter.
Everett laughs. “Well, what can I say? There are things stronger than loyalty. Things like money, the addiction to Sweet.” He nuzzles Stevie’s cheek with his nose, pulling her close to his chest. “Love.” He throws me a look. “But you wouldn’t know about that, would you? Your wife left you, Devyn took off. You’ve got nothing.”
“I want to know what you did with her.” I try to keep my cool because Christ, if they don’t tell me where they’re keeping her, I’ll never find her.
Everett shrugs and shuffles to the model hotel. “You know I’ve always been in your shadow? From the second you staked your claim in Cedar Hill, I never stood a chance. Always a day late and a dollar short. I could have made something with that land,” he says, skimming his finger along the model’s roof, a blue plastic swimming pool lit up with tiny, yellow bulbs. “I thought after you got hurt and ran from the city with your tail tucked between your legs you would give it up, but no. You had to be a prick and let it sit there. Just fuckingsit there.”
“You sabotaged my project, you murdered people, because of jealousy.”
“I wanted what you had,” he says as Stevie steps across the room and joins him in front of the model hotel. She wraps her arms around his chest. Wearing high-heeled boots, she matches his height, and she rests her chin on his shoulder. “And now I do, thanks to Stevie. I have the love of my life, I have professional success, and it’s you who has nothing. Look at you, you can’t even move without grimacing in pain. We didn’t do anything to Devyn. She didn’t want you. Neil Simpson told her what a worthless piece of shit you are, and she took off. Forget about her. Sell me the goddamned land and let me build something the city of Cedar Hill can be proud of. Something you can’t because you’re just as spineless as your crew.”
Suddenly, I know where Devyn is.
The hotel. It’s always been about the property.
I pull McAllister’s keys from his loose grip. “I need to borrow your truck.”
“You can’t leave me here!” he howls, shooting panicked glances at Stevie and Everett. I don’t know what they have in store for him for bringing me out here, but whatever they do to him will be what he deserves.
“Watch me,” I say and head toward the conference room door.
Stevie and Everett don’t stop me, confident all their secrets will be kept hidden. We may not have any solid evidence, but we have more than Devyn did when she was snooping around two years ago: witnesses. Tony Kelly will talk, and so will Neil Simpson when pressed hard enough. McAllister will squeal like the pig he is, and Seville has the warning system hidden away and can testify it’s been tampered with. If what Talia says is true and Simpson gave Tony Kelly the wrong manual to reference and he balanced the boom with more weight than was needed, the counterweight should still be attached to the crane. All we have to do is look.
Right now, I can’t think of anything but finding Devyn. If Stevie exposed her to Sweet and she’s addicted from that single taste, I’ll stay by her side until she’s through rehab. I’ll do whatever I need to do after what she’s done for me.