Summer
Atlas
I’ll be away for a few days. It’s a work thing.
That’s the text greeting me in the morning.
I have Atlas exactly where I want him, but I hate that I’m not as indifferent to him as I’d like to be.
Whatever warmth his confessions from last night stir in me is quickly replaced by the memory of my public humiliation and the need for payback.
I grab the phone and type in my response.
So, a few days of peace and quiet for me? No one to stalk me, tie me down, strip me, threaten me, and humiliate me? Boooring!
His answer slides in without a heartbeat of delay.
Atlas
You’re forgetting fingering and eating you so good you screamed that someone’s name.
You’re never letting go of this, are you, Chocolate Bar Thief?
Atlas
Never!
Atlas
Is this the nickname I’m going to be stuck with? Don’t I deserve a sweeter one?
Well, you stole my salted caramel bars, so it’s fitting. How about I make it sound better? Like ‘my handsome Chocolate Bar Thief’?
Instant regret. Did I give him too much of a sweet attitude?
Atlas
You think I’m handsome?
He’s fucking chiseled to perfection, but boosting his ego is not on my to-do list.
Oh, no! Sorry! That text was meant for another chocolate bar thief. There’s a whole train of people breaking into my room and stealing my salted caramel bars, so this was for the handsome one, not for you. You’re absolutely hideous.
Atlas
You’re going to miss me.
I will.
This isn’t a confession, but he doesn’t know it yet.
Like a bullet to the stomach.
Atlas
Still mad at me for last night?
Furious!
Atlas
Good! Keep the fire burning for me.
He’s going to be so disillusioned by the fire awaiting him.
Atlas
If I start missing you too much, I’ll visit a loony bin to make me feel right back at home with you.
It’s so easy for him to make me smile. I wish that wasn’t the case. I don’t need things to get more complicated than they already are.
But what’s the work thing? Is he going to see Mason?
If that’s the case, it’s a missed opportunity. I should up my game. But I should probably start by taking a shower after choosing not to do that last night, holding onto his lingering scent as a keepsake.
Free of one thief’s scent but not of thoughts of him, I rummage through my clothes in search of a T-shirt with a duck waving its middle feather and the slogan “Duck it!” at the bottom, hoping it’ll help get me on Raven’s good side.
I’m early enough to know she hasn’t left her room yet, especially on a Saturday morning. If Atlas is away, this means Link will be too, but I’m still cautious when I get there, opting to slip a note under her door.
10 p.m. Schenley Plaza Park. Bring the non-murderous attitude?
Setting the meeting in the evening is an extra precaution.
Note slipped, the rest of the day stretches ahead like a gift-wrapped opportunity.
Time to turn Atlas’s empty house into my personal playground.
I couldn’t snoop around his place the night of the party, but with him away, I can go through not only his friends’ rooms, but now there’s a bonus.
I think I can check out the contents of his safe, too.
I don’t exactly need incriminating stuff on Mason. He’s too well-connected to ever land in jail. And that could never be a punishment enough for him. I need locations. Appointments. Something. Anything.
Not that I can get to him with such heavy security.
Mason probably gets prostate exams with bodyguards at his side and a urologist’s hand knuckles-deep inside his ass.
But I’m still hoping for another way of getting to him to present itself.
One different from using Atlas and bulldozing his feelings.
An hour and a half later, I sneak out of Connor’s room with zero valuable intel, intent on getting a tetanus shot . . . or rabies . . . or whatever shot is available out there.
The front door downstairs opens, and I’m one heartbeat away from a heart attack.
What the fuck? Isn’t everyone with Atlas to wherever he went? Or are they back so soon?
No time for questions.
I sneak into Atlas’s room, finding a cozy spot inside his walk-in closet, hoping he isn’t the one downstairs.
“Raven, pick up the phone, dammit!” A voice comes from outside the door.
Link?
Atlas left his best friend behind? Strange.
A door slams with more force than necessary, coming from the same floor I’m on. I presume that’s him, getting inside his room.
I should leave this place. But not before I get my hands on whatever’s inside Atlas’s safe. I left it as a dessert. Now I’ll have to devour it fast.
I rush over to the one by his bed and punch in the only three numbers I have from the night of the party. With everything I’ve got on Atlas, it didn’t take a lot to figure out the remaining three numbers I’d heard him punch in. Noah’s birthday.
The safe opening is a small victory I can’t find in me to smile about.
Guns. Stacks of cash. Documents. And my pink panties . . . the ones I gagged him with?
Weirdo!
I pull out the documents, reading between the lines to figure out what I have.
It’s mostly hyped-up sales for the upcoming gallery event next week.
I’ve had my hands on similar, going through intermediaries, but these have a few sticky notes telling me who the real buyers are.
Big names I’ve heard around Raven’s father.
There are code-like letters and numbers on each note.
Most of these buyers are on foreign soil.
Malta turns up a couple of times. Then Germany, Poland, Switzerland.
Maybe I can use these as a bargaining chip with Trent if my plan goes sideways. Though, I think he would still help me even without it. But better safe than sorry. I’m guessing some of the people in these files would be more than welcome on the FBI desks.
A folder on the side of the safe grabs my attention and I pull it out, careful not to move too much around it.
On the very first page, a name sticks out.
Vanguard Horizon.
That’s Montgomery Global Logistics direct competition. Raven’s dad, Peter Montgomery, used to call them incompetent asses. I’m pretty certain I’ve heard Holt’s name being mentioned years ago around my best friend’s house. Maybe Mason worked with Peter and then he switched to Vanguard Horizon?
I take out my phone, snapping photos of every single piece of paper. I’ll leave the figuring out part of what exactly I have on my hands for later. Now, I need to get out of here. I’ve pushed my luck to its limit.
Getting everything back inside the way it was, I close the safe and head out, satisfied I’m not empty-handed.
When the night comes, I sit on a bench, waiting for Raven, my heart sinking with the thought of how betrayed she must’ve felt to see me there last night, living and breathing when I left her wondering for months if I’m alive.
The tear that fell down her eye when she saw me completely shattered me, making me feel like the worst friend possible.
Ten comes and goes. Then ten-thirty. Raven’s never late for anything, and neither am I. She’s making me wait to punish me, which is the least I deserve.
I stand when I notice her silhouette finally approaching, making the shadows the least creepy thing the night can offer.
She lunges at me, squeezing me so tight the air leaves my lungs.
“I should unalive you, so I wouldn’t have mourned you in vain, bitch!”
Is strangling me her choice for “unaliving” me?
It takes seconds for my brain to process her embrace and return it in full.
“How could you do this to me? How could you let me think you were dead? Where’s Milo?”
My brother’s name triggers my tears. And when I stay silent, Raven releases me from her embrace.
“Maeve!”
A gasp escapes her, and in that moment, the emerald of her eyes dims as the realization that it’s just me, sinks in.
Her tears are not far behind, before she pulls me in again, unsure if it’s consolation she seeks or offers.
Maybe both. Her chest jumps in rapid motions, but she hides the sound of her sobs.
She’s fighting it for me. We stay like this for a long moment—minutes of comfort I’ve needed from her for the last ten months.
“When I saw you alive and well . . .” She chokes on a sob.
“I-I thought Milo was too. I—” Her voice cracks.
“You said if you ever stopped calling one day . . . it would mean you’re dead, but .
. . but I could never . . . never accept it, even when it happened.
Even when I hadn’t heard from you in so many months.
There was a part of me that always knew you were alive.
I thought . . . if something had happened to you, I would’ve felt it.
I know I would’ve. You were always a part of me.
” Her entire body trembles more than her voice.
“They are all dead.” It’s all I can choke out.
“How? Who?” Those words are wrapped in pain, shaky, tortured.
I never told her who we were running from then, and won’t do it now.
“You know I have the means to go after them. All you have to do is give me a name, and they won’t wake up tomorrow.
” Her voice may be broken from the shock that Milo is dead, but her resolve is unshaken.
Pulling back, I wipe away my tears. Raven is the only one who can see me like this, and I’d be okay with it. I sit on the bench behind me, forcing my vocal cords to fall in line enough to present a steady speech, unrattled by my emotions.
“This is a battle I can’t let you fight on my behalf. Trust me when I say the people responsible will die. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You can’t honestly expect me to stand aside and do nothing.”
“You won’t be doing nothing. You’ll help me if I need to disappear again.”
“Tell me everything. Please! You can’t keep me in the dark. Milo—” Raven chokes on my brother’s name, her eyes sinking to the ground, palm squeezing over one fist, unable to keep the tears at bay or look at me.