“He’s a waiter. At a restaurant called The Glass House. Except he left. He’s here in LA now. He said he had to take care of some things.”
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“I see.”
“What do you mean you see? You can’t possibly think Luke has something to do with this.”
“I don’t know for sure, but the vagueness of your statement has me concerned.”
“Vagueness?”
“Yes. When was the last time he contacted you?”
“He… He came to my hotel room. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was gone.”
Buck meets my gaze. “Houston, I think we have a problem.”
39
LUKE
I’ve been in situations where I have to keep my cool. I’m good at it. It’s the reason I was successful for as long as I was in the organization. It’s the reason why King trusted me to be his right-hand man.
It’s also the reason I thought I could get away with finding Emily and taking her from a private island with heavy security.
While I was in recovery, my therapist said he thought I had narcissistic tendencies. I fought him on this. But looking back, I see he was right.
Failing never entered my mind. That’s why I was so good at what I did.
It ultimately led to my demise. When Emily’s brother shot me on the island. And I was arrested.
Turns out that wasn’t my demise. Turns out it saved me. It helped me bring down some master criminals, and it led me to Katelyn.
Funny. I used to have ice in my veins. I could get through anything. Take care of anything King asked of me.
Until now.
The ice in my veins? It’s been replaced with boiling honey. That heartbeat I used to be able to control? No longer. My heart races for Katelyn. Fear. A new emotion for me.
I fear for her life.
And I’m willing to give mine for hers.
Definitely new.
Perhaps my life was easier before I was shot. Nothing used to bother me. I was cold. Totally coldhearted with regard to my work. Totally hot-blooded with regard to women. I yearned to control them. And I kidded myself. I told myself it was because I loved them, wanted to protect them.
It wasn’t that at all.
I was a mess.
And now? I care so much. I care about Katelyn most of all, but I also care about my mother, my father, my brother and sister.
I care about my life.
I’ll gladly give mine for Katelyn’s, and I know that’s what will ultimately happen.
But damn it, I want to live! For the first time, I want to fucking live. With Katelyn. I want to make a family. I want to be a father.
All those other women? I never had these desires.
But it will have to be enough to know Katelyn will live. That Katelyn will be a mother and wife to someone else. Someone else who will love her as much as I do.
Though I don’t see how that will ever be possible.
My heart is beating out of my chest. And the rage—that flawed friend…
I need to do something. What?
Until I receive instructions via text, there’s nothing I can do.
I used to know where all of King’s safehouses were, but he’s too smart to put Katelyn in one of them. Once I turned, King had to regroup.
And while word on the street was that he fled to Mexico, I always knew better.
As soon as I got here to LA, I felt him. I knew he was here.
I was right. He’s here. He’s out for blood.
And there’s nothing I can do.
Nothing…until I hear from him.
I scroll back through all of the texts Katelyn sent me. How I wish I could go back in time and return each one of them. Or, better yet, go back to that hotel room and never leave her side. Tell her to her beautiful face what she means to me. How much I love her. And though I’ll never be able to be with her, how much I wish things were different.
How she deserves everything good in life. Everything I can never give her. And that even in death, no one will love her as I do.
Why did she have to come to LA?
First thing I should do is check on her father. Although no one will give me any information. And that would just alarm her parents.
A run might take the edge off. But I can’t. I can’t do anything that may risk me not getting the instructions. If I’m running, I might not hear my phone.
“For God’s sake,” I say out loud. “I will kill you, King. I will fucking kill you for this.”
My phone dings.
For a moment, I think he actually heard me. Actually heard me say I would kill him.
But it’s a marketing text. I delete it and then hurl my phone across the room.
My old friend rage wins out again.
Not my best move, since I need the damned thing. I walk across the floor, pick it up, and see that it’s still working.
Good.
I rake my fingers through my short brown hair.
If I live through this—which I won’t—I can go back to my natural blond hair. It will take years to grow it out to where it was, but I don’t give a rat’s ass.
Blond, brown. What the hell difference does it all make?
What the hell difference does it all make?
King is doing this to me on purpose. Making me wait. He knows it’s driving me slowly insane. Which is what he wants.
I’ve got to keep it together. I’ve got to keep it together for Katelyn.
Her safety depends on me.
Which means I cannot screw this up.
God, I want a drink. I want a drink so badly. A nice smoky bourbon that burns my throat. Just one sip. That’s all I need to take the edge off.
Just one sip.
I walk. I walk toward my parents’ liquor cabinet.
One step. Two steps. Then three and four steps.
Again and again, I step, until I’m standing right in front of the mahogany cabinet.
Inside is the best liquor money can buy. My old man is a scotch drinker, but he keeps a little bit of everything for any guests who may be here.
Inside will be the premium bourbon.
Just between this wooden door and me.
I crack open the door. Look inside.
All the bottles.
Just one.
Just one sip. It will help.
I need to be calm to get through this.
I pull the bottle off the shelf, and—
My phone dings with a text.
40
KATELYN
“What do you mean?” My heart beats rapidly against my chest.
“There’s a reason you’re here,” Buck says. “I know these guys. They don’t take people for no reason.”
“Meaning…” I gulp.
“Meaning you’re important to someone.”
“I’m a no one. I’m not important to anyone.”
“Except your waiter friend.”
“But I told you. He’s nobody. He’s a waiter in Manhattan.”
“Is he?”
“I…”
Is he? I don’t know. I know very little about Luke. Except that I love him. I love him so very much.
“Listen,” Buck says. “I don’t want to scare you. That’s the last thing I want. But I know you’re here for a reason. Maybe it’s not your boyfriend. Maybe it’s someone else.”