27
Blake
Hana stands beside her bed, looking down into the suitcase. “It’s odd to think about going back there. The last time we were in New York together, Debbie died.”
My stomach cramps, and I hate that we still don’t know what really happened to our friend. I will never buy the official line that she jumped off her balcony after a night of partying and pills. Debbie wouldn’t do that.
But in the absence of more evidence, there’s nothing I can do to clear her name. It’s frustrating as fuck. We always looked out for each other–Debbie and me, and Hana as much as she could.
“You don’t have to pack anything but toiletries. Maybe not even that. We’re packing up whatever we want from the apartment and bringing it back here for the time being.”
Her blue eyes meet mine, and she nods, solemnly. “New York doesn’t feel like home anymore, does it?”
“No.” It hasn’t for a long time, I think to myself. “Hana?”
She glances over at me as she carefully puts items into an overnight duffel. When she sees my serious expression, she stops. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just wondering, when you would go out with Trip, the nights I wasn’t there, who all was with you? Natasha, Debbie, any other guys?”
“I don’t remember.”
Anger burns in my throat at her go-to, cop-out response, but my sarcastic whatever dies on my lips when I see her face.
Her brow is furrowed, and she’s focused on the sequined top she’s holding like she’s genuinely trying to remember something.
“It’s okay.” I speak gently, going to her and taking her hand. “Try to relax. See if it comes to you.”
She blinks several times before closing her eyes. “Greg would be with us sometimes, and another guy, Ivan…” Her lips tighten, and she shakes her head, opening her eyes again. “Ivan is all I can remember.”
“That’s okay! That’s good, actually.” I sit on the bed smiling up at her. “We’ll call him Ivan X.”
A little smile relaxes her face. “He’d probably like that. He was always trying to be a big shot like Greg. But he wasn’t.”
She adds the last part softly, and my chest is so tight. I’ve never gotten this far with her before, but I try to control my excitement. I don’t want to pressure her and make her shut down again.
“Do you remember what Ivan did? For work, I mean.”
Her small nose wrinkles, and she looks at the window. “He said he was studying film? Or he was making a film. I don’t know.” She shakes her head fast. “It was something about a film. Debbie and I split a button of mescaline, so it’s all kind of hazy.”
Inhaling slowly, I hold onto my shit. “That’s okay. Can you remember anything he said?”
“Not really.” She looks down. “I was never smart enough to follow their conversations. They always talked about things I didn’t understand.”
Frowning, I try to imagine what that could be, if there were any business deals she heard about that I could piece together. “You don’t remember any of the words they said? Maybe I can figure it out.”
She starts to say no, but then she inhales quickly. “I remember one thing! He was a germaphobe… I think.”
My chin pulls back, and I don’t know how that’s useful–or if it’s even real since she was tripping on mushrooms. “Why did you think that?”
“He was always talking about stuff being clean or cleaning stuff.” Her brow furrows, and she taps her forehead. “Maybe he said it needed cleaning.”
It takes all my power to hold my expression neutral. “That’s good, Hana.” I squeeze her hands. “One last question. It’s a hard one. Okay?” She watches me, waiting, and I proceed with caution. “Did they ever mention Victor? Or did you and Debbie ever see Victor or hear about him being with them?”
Her face pales, and her round eyes blink away. Lifting her hand out of mine, her thumb is on the way to her mouth when it stops.
Lowering it slightly, she looks from her digit to me and does a little smile. “I remembered.”
My breath picks up. “What did you remember?”
“Not to chew my thumb.”
“Hana!” My breath rushes out in a hiss. “About Victor–what do you remember about him?”
“Nothing.” She grits her front teeth, and anger lines her face. “I never want to remember him as long as I live.”
“Okay.” I exhale slowly as I stand, pulling her into a hug. “You don’t have to. You’ve done really well. I’ll take it from here.”
Our New York apartment is the same as when I left it after the gala–clean, shining wood, somewhat familiar, and completely uncomfortable.
I’m glad Hutch and Scar are with us, even if the guys are preoccupied with tracking down Trip and our new mystery man, Ivan X.
I filled Hutch in on everything my sister told me on the short flight from Charleston, and he relayed the information to Dirk, who’s running searches on this new name from his place in Hamiltown.
“Are you going to see Trip or meet him somewhere?” I watch as Hutch uses a tracking app on his phone to locate our friend. “He lives a few floors down, so he’s probably there now.”
“Yep, just checking to see if this thing works.” Even in simple jeans and a black tee with a black jacket on top, he looks like a model.
He’s so tall and broad, and the muscle in his square jaw moves as he thinks. Despite the shitty timing, I can’t help wanting to trace my tongue along it. He’s so lickable.
“For now, while he’s unaware of our presence, I’m going to watch where he goes and hope it leads somewhere incriminating.”
“Did you have anything in particular in mind?”
He hesitates a moment before answering my question. “There’s an ATM in Brooklyn that handles cryptocurrency. Dirk traced several transactions in the accounts we’re monitoring to that machine. My hope is he’s the person making them, or one of the persons.”
“It’s all so confusing. What are you going to do once you find the men behind it all?”
“Not what your uncle wants me to do,” he grumbles. “We’re going to obtain warrants for their arrest and hope we can build a case that will stick.”
A sick, uncomfortable tightness is in my stomach, and I almost hate to ask. “Is there any chance of recovering our money? Or the money I sent that blackmailer?”
Intense green eyes hold mine. “Absolutely. If we’re able to prove they took it, we’ll recover it from whatever holdings they have. I said I’d get your money back, and I will.”
Smiling, I walk to where he stands, placing my hand on his arm and kissing his cheek. “I’m not worried as long as you’re here.”
He slides his thumb along my jaw, looking deep into my eyes. “Have you thought about what I said the other night?”
My chest squeezes, and I nod. Standing here completely sober, in the light of day, I remember him saying he was falling in love with another member of my uncle’s family.