Lyre
I look at my phone for the fifth time. It’s official, I’m a complete loser. I sent Morgan a text about half an hour ago. Not only has she not responded, but she also hasn’t even read it. That’s a step down from before, when she at least looked at them.
In true loser style, I keep checking every five minutes. Her plane doesn’t take off for another twenty minutes. I hope I haven’t scared her off. I’m coming on too strong. Maybe fifteen thousand was too much money. Good thing I didn’t buy her that car. I clearly suck at relationships.
Bart draws my attention by walking over to the window; he pulls the blinds to the side about half an inch and peers out onto the street. Satisfied, he walks back to his original position with his back to the wall. He stands there, arms folded, eyes forward.
I realize that I’ve been standing in front of an open fridge for far too long. “Can I make you some lunch?” I ask, half expecting him to turn me down, even though the offer was genuine. I’d feel bad eating in front of him.
He smiles, and I wonder how the toothpick doesn’t fall out of his mouth. “That would be great.”
“Sandwich okay?” I ask.
“I noticed you had some pastrami when I fetched a water earlier.”
Help yourself, why don’t you? I nod. “No problem.”
“I would love the pastrami. Cooper is more of a ham man.” He makes this face like maybe he’s pushing the envelope by including Cooper and his dietary preferences, but doing it anyway. And Morgan calls me pushy.
“I have both,” I say.
“I noticed.” He moves the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. He does it quickly. It’s a skill. I wonder if he can eat with that thing still in his mouth. “Cheese and lettuce would be a bonus,” he adds.
Not pushy at all!
“Mustard?” I ask, lifting a brow. I’m partly joking at this point.
“Absolutely!” He smiles, the toothpick holding strong. “Can’t have a good sandwich without it. That and mayo.”
Pushy as fuck!
“Coming up,” I say, grabbing the ingredients. I’m pretty sure if I offered to cook them a three-course meal for dinner, Bart over here would accept and then offer up a menu.
I set about making the sandwiches. Bart stays right where he is…no offers to help me. Morgan is too nice for a hard-ass. Then again, nice doesn’t come close to describing how amazing she is. I stop what I’m doing and check my phone again.
Nothing.
I focus on making a couple of sandwiches, adding plenty of mustard and mayo. Her lack of response doesn’t mean anything. I put Bart’s food on a plate and Cooper’s in a container. “I’ll let him know lunch is up,” Bart says. “I’ll give this to him at the back door,” he adds as he heads to my fridge and helps himself to a couple of waters. “I’ll be back in a few,” he says as he puts his phone to his ear. I hear him talking to Cooper as he goes down the stairs.
I’m in for a long couple of days. I’m praying to god it doesn’t end up being longer. I don’t think I could take this intrusion. I already miss Morgan more than I should.
I lean back on the island and look down at my sandwich. I have zero appetite. My phone rings and I jump up. I can’t believe how much better I feel when I see that it’s Morgan who’s calling. I’m such a fucking loser, it’s scary. I find I don’t care.
“Hey,” I say, trying to play it cool.
“Loverboy.” It’s a voice I recognize. It’s not Morgan. My blood turns to ice in my veins.
“Gabby.” My voice is pure malevolence. I hated her before, I despise her now. I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from firing questions at her.
Where’s Morgan?
What have you done?
What do you want?
“Miss me?” she purrs. It isn’t a question. I don’t answer. “How about a reunion?”
“If you so much as touch a hair on her head…” I growl the words, my animal coming to the fore. It doesn’t matter that I can’t shift. My dragon is prowling, even more riled since it is caged.
“Touchy, touchy. Relax! I won’t hurt her…if you do everything I tell you.”
“I’m listening.” I’m shaking I’m so angry. I feel a shot of adrenaline course through my veins. My skin feels too tight. I have to force myself to relax my grip on my phone, or I might just break it.
“That’s a good boy.” Her voice is like silk.
“Before you say anything,” I push out, “put Morgan on the line.” I hear Bart talking to Cooper. They’re just down the stairs. I don’t want them to hear this, so I duck onto the patio, closing the door behind me.
“Let’s be clear,” she says. “I’m the one in charge here.”
“I want proof of life. Now! That’s not negotiable.”
“Calm down!” she snaps. “I’ll let you talk to her for a few seconds, and then you do as I say, or your girlfriend is dead…you got that?”
“Yes,” I say between clenched teeth.
I hear rustling. “Lyre.” It’s Morgan. She sounds a little out of breath. I hear panic in her voice.
It makes me want to break things. “Morgan!” I yell, trying not to be too loud and failing.
“Don’t do it!” she shouts. “Don’t—” Then she makes this weird noise, and I hear a thunk.
“Morgan!” I yell. “Morgan!” I don’t give a shit who hears me, I’m frantic.
“She’s fine,” Gabby says.
“I swear to fucking god—!” I punch out.
“Listen carefully,” she hisses.
“Put her back on! Do it—!”
“I will kill her,” Gabby says. I can hear that she means it. “I’m done waiting. I’m done with the games. I’m hungry.” There’s this edge to her voice. “Starving. I will eat today, or your precious Morgan will die. You can choose whichever you prefer.”
I hold back a snarl. I pace to the end of the balcony and then back again. I’m too livid to talk. I make a grunting noise instead.
“Get rid of the Seekers. If I even sniff someone from the Order, I will kill her and dump her body on your front lawn.”
My blood is fucking boiling. I still don’t say anything.
“Call your friend. He needs to be there when we arrive.”
“Which friend?” I put on an act. I know exactly who she’s referring to. Bolt. Has to be. Although there is a chance she saw Stephan as well. Could be either one of them.
She sighs. “I said no more games.”
“Be specific. I don’t play games either.”
“Sounds like you have more than one friend.”
I don’t take the bait.
“The cute one in the Armani suit. He drove a black Bentley GT. I could smell the power coming off of him. Could see it simmering just beneath the surface. He’s brimming with the stuff. More than you,” she rambles. “Him. Bring him for me.”
Bolt.
Fuck!
In order to save Morgan, I’m going to have to possibly sacrifice my friend. A lead weight settles in my stomach when I think of Stephan’s vision.