Chapter 5
C onnor
The slight, short father-of-two drug dealer shook his head at me, his arms folded in an attempt at bravery. “I can’t tell you that.”
In the tiny residential car park behind his house, no streetlights revealed us to nosy neighbours. He had a lock-up garage, too small to fit any decent car but fine as a base for his less-than-legal operations. By day, Marcus worked as a rep for a pharmaceutical company, and by night, he put on his big boy pants and dwelt in the darkness with the rest of us.
It was him I bought my narcotics from, but so had the person who’d killed Natasha.
I angled my head. Slowly. Menacingly. “I’ll ask again. Who else in this city bought propofol from ye recently?”
He swallowed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. “Would you trust me again if I gave up another customer’s details?”
“That buyer murdered a woman.”
“And you only need it for a good night’s sleep.”
My temper surged. Already, I was rattled by what had happened at Everly’s house, and the fact I’d gone running there in the first place. I was usually pretty chill, but an evening of headfucks left me in danger of losing it with the man I relied on for my supply.
He didn’t give a shite what I did with the drug. Convincing him that my activities were somehow more noble than any other gangster was a lost cause. Which left me only my charming skills of menacing persuasion.
I moved in on him, forcing him back against the breezeblock wall of the garage. “How about a process of elimination. Have ye had a new buyer?”
He hesitated. I drew my hand to his throat. Pushed so my fingers scraped the rough surface of the wall either side of his slim neck and his pulse thrummed under my palm.
“N-no one new,” he choked out.
So the killer was already on Deadwater’s scene. I continued my gentle interrogation. “And ye supply both the Zombies and the Four Milers?”
He pressed his lips together but at my light squeeze gave a jerking nod, his cheeks flushing. We were getting somewhere.
“And just one person each in those gangs?”
Another nod, prompted by the tightening of my forearm muscles.
“Anyone else?”
This time, a refusal.
I wrapped it up, because I didn’t want to lose this man as my supplier as much as I had no real desire to terrorise him. “To confirm—the only people you’ve supplied that product to are me and those gangs, correct?”
A swift nod was my answer. I dropped my hold, and the dealer scrambled away, his hand at his throat.
“I never promised you exclusivity,” he spluttered.
“Did I ask ye to suck my dick?” Disgusted, I turned away and stalked back down the alley, my mind twisting over what I’d learned. The killer wasn’t some random, they were gang affiliated else they wouldn’t have been able to get hold of the drug from the contacts Marcus served. Then I frowned, because there were other sources. Hospitals used propofol for knocking out surgical patients. Their supplies were a lot more tightly controlled, though.
Either we had a rogue doctor or, more likely, someone in the city gangs was behind the murders. The bigger question was why.
I left the suburb where the dealer resided and took the road out to a leafier part of town, the houses getting bigger and the streets emptier. Everly’s neck of the woods. A glance at my car’s dash told me it was close to dawn, and I didn’t want to be sneaking around the mayor’s mansion in daylight or when any staff came in. Which meant a fast turnaround.
Parking up in the same spot as earlier, I curled my lip at the broken glass on the tarmac from where I’d tipped Riordan’s bike then repeated my steps to slink along the neighbours’ access path. On my first visit, I’d gone in hard and fast. This time, I was more cautious. The warning Genevieve’s brother gave played over in my mind. The Four Milers wanted Everly and they wouldn’t give up easily.
The big house was as silent as the grave. The back door had been closed, presumably by Riordan, but I took a different route. Directly up. At sixteen, I’d worked out how to use the drainpipe to scale the building and climb to the railed balcony of Everly’s room, evading her father whose bedroom was right across the hall.
She never locked the doors.
Accordingly, the wrought-iron handle gave under my hand, and I was inside, brushing past the gauzy curtains. For a long minute, I stood and listened, taking time to be sure I wasn’t the only monster who lurked in the dark.
Nothing creaked, nothing alerted my senses, except for the floral scent of the woman who owned the space. Familiar, pretty, drugging. It drove me insane the longer I stood there. It made me fucking hard. Like I was a teenager with no control over my body.
Or maybe it was the memories of what we’d done in this room that were responsible.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled up her list and opened the door to her walk-in wardrobe to grab the smart dress she’d provided a picture of. It was near the front of the row, and on the shelf above, a holdall gave me a place to roll it up and stash it. Then I snatched more items from hangers—silky tops with thin straps, a blazer. A milkmaid-style dress that caught my eye. Things she hadn’t asked for but alternative clothing choices so she didn’t need to return for a while.
Several pairs of shoes went in the bag, too—a sensible pair that looked like the ones in the photo, some sandals, then spiked heels. The kind that brought men to their knees. I didn’t question myself, just kept going.
Opening and silently closing drawers found me her underwear. A sheer lace bra sat on top of the pile. I stalled. Swallowed. In the light from my phone, it was a pale pink. This one probably wouldn’t be her choice for work wear, but I threw it in along with others, stashing her underwear as if it would burn if I touched it too long.
Done with clothes, I moved on to the rest of her list. The bathroom gave up bottles, a makeup pouch, and other potions. Fucking birth control pills. Her purse hung on a hook on the back of her door, and her tablet was on her dresser.
That just left me with her phone. I threw back her blankets, revealing white sheets. No phone there. Behind her lamp, a charging cable was plugged in. I followed the cord to the top drawer of her bedside table. Opened it.
Everly’s phone lay inside, but as I grabbed it, a long, thick vibrator rolled forward.
My breath left me in a rush.
In a blink, I was a teenager again and stealing into her room from my balcony approach, her welcome warm and her arms around my neck. She kissed my lips. My bruises. Cried over me.
The night we’d lost our virginity to each other had blown my life up in ways I could hardly comprehend. We’d been kids, reeling in a shitty living situation and finding something pure in each other. I’d been so fucking happy I would’ve given up anything. Given her anything.
Reality crashed back in.
She’d lied about feeling the same. I took the vibrator and tossed it in the bag. Everly could go fuck herself with it.
With the packing complete, I shouldered the holdall, ready to go. Then from somewhere in the house, a noise reached me. The phone ringing. I shuddered at the tone. The mayor had a landline he called the house phone and which was a public number, so members of the community could ring and leave messages for him. It was located in the hallway by the front door, and that fucking ringtone went off multiple times throughout the day, the sound echoing. Not that he gave a shite, but Everly would take down names and messages then call them back. He also left her messages on it to ensure she went through every single one.
The ringing ended, and a click followed. I stole to the bedroom door and cracked it open. A voice sounded loud in the hall, her father’s. It chilled me.
“Everly, I’m extending my visit by a day, but on Tuesday, I’ll be returning with an important friend. You will have a bedroom ready for Piers.”
The call disconnected without him saying goodbye, and I took a breath, my muscles stiff. I despised the man with every cell inside me, not only for the way he’d treated me as a stepson, but the way he was still in my life. Still pulling strings. I hated that I needed him and that he needed me. A fucked-up symbiotic relationship I’d never shake.
Not if I wanted to stay sane.
Just as I was turning for the window, a bark of laughter reached me, swiftly followed by someone making a hushing noise. It came from outside the bedroom.
“Keep your fucking voice down.”
“I am, but did you shit yourself when you heard that voice?” a second person answered. “Thought he was here.”
The first person replied something I couldn’t hear, but it didn’t matter, Riordan’s warning had played out. At least two men were in Everly’s house, and I knew they were here for her. Which meant I needed to leave.
Light-footed, I dove for the curtains right as her bedroom door creaked open.
No time for sneaking around now. I thrust the material out of my way, tugging my bandanna up over my nose to give some semblance of a disguise. The balcony doors had drifted shut and creaked as I burst through them.
A shout chased me. “Told you it was worth coming back. She’s going out the window.”
Guess again, arsehole.
With a smirk, I peered down to the patio below, checking for any other home invaders but finding it empty. Then I swung a leg over. The mayor’s mansion had high ceilings, so the drop was significant, but I’d done it before and survived.
The doors rattled, and a thick-necked bruiser of a man burst out, coming face to face with me as I straddled the railing.
“Too late,” I taunted and dropped down the other side until I was dangling from the bottom of the rails, getting as low as I could.
“Who the fuck are you?” he groused.
A hefty boot crushed my fingers, but his aim was off, and I let go and fell, landing like a cat, though the holdall nearly broke my neck as it swung. Without looking back, I sprinted away. Down the garden, under the oak, and out along the neighbours’ path.
The sky was brightening at the edges, dawn fast approaching. I had another objective in the city—to find Riordan fucking Jones, but daylight wasn’t my friend. I also had a more urgent need to get back to Everly, just to check on her again.
People had come for her. The dickhead who’d stomped on my fingers had been carrying what looked like thin plastic strips. Zip ties, I was certain. They would have taken her, and I’d never…
See her again? What the fuck did it matter to me?
And yet it did. Throwing myself into my car, I got the hell out of there and didn’t let my thoughts go any further down that dark hole.