One heck of a promotion.
There were details about the trial that I couldn’t publish, and I didn’t mention the name of the man who was known for chopping people’s heads off. But writing about Lucinda’s killer trying to assassinate me in my offices for finding him out—and his having been shot by my ‘bodyguard’—made sure I was Roger’s favorite person. And that my job was starting to feel like it mattered.
I’d only write about shoes for leisure now.
My latest story was on the rise in gangland warfare and the ease of obtaining guns in various areas of L.A., regardless of permits or age. Kids were shooting kids.
I was hoping the story might do something to make officials notice the problem.
One could only hope.
I couldn’t decide whether my interviews had been more or less successful with Heath at my side.
Who had been even more brooding and mute since he met Polly at a party Keltan and I had to celebrate us living together and me not being dead.
Well, I only named it that once. Then Keltan took me into the bathroom and fucked me against the wall so hard that I forgot we even had guests.
“We never joke about you being dead. Ever,” he whispered menacingly in my ear from behind me, our eyes meeting in the bathroom mirror, him still inside me. His hand tightened around my collarbone. “Okay?”
I didn’t break his gaze. “Okay,” I agreed.
So that had been the last time I called it that, but that’s how Heath had met Polly. And I’d expected her to swoon over him and declare him “the one.” Instead, she spoke to him for exactly five minutes, glared at him, then kept her distance for the rest of the night.
His eyes had followed her until she left.
The situation was remarkably familiar, but Polly was exceptionally cold about it when I mentioned it, and she had been weird lately.
Not that I had much time to spend with my sister with my new job and Keltan taking up most of my time.
And I’d hired Keltan to find Rosie for me.
Not that he wasn’t already looking. Or someone on his payroll was. Someone being Luke, who’d joined the security team a week after the “incident” at my work.
Luke, who had quit Amber PD the same time Rosie had disappeared. If there was someone I could’ve bet would never give up his badge, it would’ve been him.
Yet he did.
And he did it for Rosie.
And he wasn’t the same. In no way, shape or form.
Because of that day.
Whatever happened turned him into a dark version of who he used to be. Midnight.
And made my best friend run.
Run.
Rosie.
Yeah, it was bad.
I wasn’t putting up with it. Being in the dark.
I was getting my friend back.
After this craziness was over. Hopefully soon.
My phone rang, jerking me back to the present and my irritated state.
I glanced down and answered. “You better be calling from the street, six seconds away from me,” I informed Keltan. “I don’t like to be kept waiting. Neither do the shoes that are going to come home with me.”
“Snow,” he said urgently. Something in his voice gave me pause.
“What now?” I asked, sighing.
“No. It’s good. They caught him.”
I didn’t need to ask who “him” was.
I let out an uneasy breath. It wasn’t exactly smooth sailing from here, as the trial would likely make things more dangerous. But Keltan had pulled some strings in order to rush it. I had no idea how he’d managed to find strings strong enough to make that happen, but I was glad.
“Okay. Good. That means I’ll testify, and I can get Carrie back as my shopping buddy, right? She’s much more eloquent in giving shoe opinions,” I said.
There was a pause and the rumbling of street noise in the background.
“Yeah, they’re rushing the trial. He’s in transit now, so it’s going to be over soon. I promise. I told you I’d be whoever it takes for this. Well, I am that person. And I don’t regret a thing.”
The conversation came back to me. The one about assassination.
“Does this mean what I think it means?” I asked, wary of talking on the phone. Didn’t everyone say the NSA tapped all phones? If so, I didn’t want to straight-up ask whether Keltan had arranged to have Rafael killed before he got here and I had to testify.
Then we’d have the men hiding behind the corners coming in to arrest Keltan. And that just would not do.
“I’ll be there in two, babe,” he said by way of answer. And by confirmation.
I let out another breath.
I frowned at the young boy who looked like a bike messenger as he leaned his bike against a post, looking at me. He left it, not even locking it.
Well, that isn’t going to be there when he gets back.
“Why did you call me when you could have just waited two minutes to tell me?” I asked, watching the boy’s journey towards me.