Chapter Forty-Six
The phone has long gone silent.
Victoria and I stand three feet from each other, staring at the black screen, at a loss as to what to do next.
My husband is about to be killed. If this were a game of chess, the board would be sideways, the pieces askew, maybe a third set of queens and pawns thrown in there.
No obvious move forward, no way to retreat.
And worse, Ian told me to kill his wife. The strong, passionate woman across from me who is intelligent enough to realize when something is off with her husband.
This is the same Ian who came all the way to Texas to join me for a run and warn me about hitting the freaking glass ceiling. The man who promised to help, to make the transition of Brian’s death easier on me, on my family.
Like it was no big deal, just another function of the job, he told me to off his wife. The mother of his daughter. Like she’s utterly replaceable.
“I can’t believe he told me to kill you,” I say.
Here I am, trying to save my husband, who I’m not even sure really loves me—I just, at a minimum, need to know who he is, why he’s doing this.
I need answers. Meanwhile, Ian faces the slightest amount of pressure from a situation he created himself, and he’s okay with me putting a bullet through Victoria.
I’m not the monster.
He is.
Across the room, the air conditioner turns on, a loud clank and whirr that startles us both.
Time stands still, and I wonder if this will be the moment I remember for the rest of my life, the moment I failed to save Brian, never learned who he truly is or what he is really about, out of fear of him discovering who I am.
My whole body goes cold at the thought—or maybe from the frigid air pouring in from the AC unit.
“I have to find him.”
“Don’t worry.” Victoria tosses the phone to the bed. Her back is straight, rigid, as if she’s already assessed the situation and chosen a course of action. “I’m no fool. The moment I suspected him of something, I took measures.”
“Measures?”
“Let him think he’s the keeper of secrets, the one who knows everything.
That sort of arrogance lets men feel they are untouchable.
Which makes them easy to take advantage of.
” She digs into the same purse, pulls out a small laptop.
Victoria carries it to the desk, flips it open.
As she connects to wi-fi, I pull out my own phone to find a single message from John: Working on it. Going to take a while.
“Here you go.”
I jerk my head up to look at where she points at the computer screen. A map. An address.
“What is this?” I crowd in closer, our elbows brushing.
“I don’t trust my husband,” she says as though that explains it all. “So I put a tracking app on his phone. The fact that he—someone like him—hasn’t noticed, says a lot.” She smiles. “I’d go with you, but unfortunately, I avoid danger instead of running toward it.”
I could argue—she married Ian, the most dangerous person I know. But instead I whip out one of my events planning cards. They’re only for show, but people expect you to have a business card. “If you ever need to get a hold of me, this is my number. Thank you. Really.”
She accepts it without a word. Gives me a moment to record Ian’s location, then goes through his bag and pulls out a few items—including a gun—and gives me a wave as she flees the room, going…
wherever she’s headed. Home? To her child?
Will she allow Ian to come back if I don’t kill him, or will she kill him herself?
Maybe they’ll disappear. It’s probably what I would do if the situation were reversed.
But it’s not. The situation is that I must rescue Brian. And in doing so, I’ll be showing him my true colors—every last one of them.