Chapter Twenty-Two — Good Boys Don’t Bite #3
Elliot’s face hardened. Another message. You know what happens to people who know too much. Ronan stood.
“Call her.”
Elliot was already dialing. No answer. Again. Nothing. Ronan grabbed his own phone. Called. Voicemail.
“Fuck.”
Elliot looked toward the window.
“No.”
Ronan saw it. The thought.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“You are not going after her.”
“If they’re following—”
“Police. We call police.”
“We are calling police.”
“Then wait.”
Elliot’s jaw tightened. Ronan stepped directly in front of him.
“No mask.”
Elliot’s eyes flickered.
“No knives.”
Silence.
“No fucking vigilante shit.”
Elliot stared. Then:
“Fine.”
Ronan almost laughed.
“That sounded incredibly believable.”
“I said fine.”
“Give me your keys.”
“What?”
“Keys.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you.”
Elliot’s expression changed. Not anger. Something almost like pride. Wrong reaction.
“Keys.”
Elliot reached into his pocket. Dropped them into Ronan’s palm.
“Phone.”
“You’re pushing it.”
“Phone.”
Elliot handed it over. Ronan put both on the dresser.
“Sit.”
Elliot stared.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit down.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
Elliot almost smiled. Then sat. Ronan called the station. Before anyone answered, his phone vibrated again. Unknown sender. He opened it. One sentence. Good boys don’t bite, Ronan. His entire body went still. Elliot saw his face.
“What?”
Ronan turned the screen. Elliot read. The color drained from him. For the first time since confessing to five murders, Elliot looked genuinely terrified. Ronan noticed immediately.
“What?”
Elliot didn't answer.
“Why does that scare you?”
Nothing.
“Elliot.”
He looked up.
“That phrase.”
“What about it?”
Elliot swallowed.
“Nobody knows that.”
Ronan frowned.
“Knows what?”
Elliot stared at the message. Then at him.
“I said it to you.”
“When?”
“The first time.”
Ronan’s stomach tightened. He remembered. A bedroom. Elliot’s teeth against his shoulder. Ronan laughing under his breath. Good boys don’t bite. Elliot biting harder just to prove him wrong. Private. No messages. No photographs. No one else. Ronan went cold.
“That was inside.”
“Yes.”
“No open window.”
“No.”
“Phones?”
“Mine was downstairs.”
Ronan remembered. His had been charging on the bathroom counter. The room had been closed. No camera outside could have heard it. No person in a tree. Nothing. Ronan stared at the phone.
“Then how the fuck do they know?”
Elliot slowly looked around the bedroom. Not at the window. At the room. Walls. Smoke detector. Lamp. Outlets. Ronan understood. His stomach dropped.
“They didn’t just watch us.”
Elliot stood. The fear disappeared. Something colder replaced it.
“They listened.”
Ronan looked toward the ceiling. Then the desk. The lamp. The charger. Everything suddenly looked wrong.
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
The phrase sounded different now. Terrified instead of evasive. Ronan called Vance again. Voicemail. Elliot moved toward the dresser. Ronan blocked him.
“No.”
“I need something.”
“What?”
“Screwdriver.”
“Why?”
Elliot pointed toward the smoke detector.
Ronan followed his gaze. Small white circle.
Red light. Ordinary. Except it wasn't their smoke detector. Ronan stared. “What?” Elliot stepped onto the desk chair. Ronan grabbed his waist automatically to steady him. Elliot twisted the device. It came free. Two wires. Battery. Normal. Then Elliot turned it over. A black dot sat beside the battery compartment. Tiny. Perfectly round. Ronan’s heartbeat stopped.
“What is that?” Elliot didn't answer. He didn't need to. Microphone. Maybe camera. Maybe both. Ronan stared. Elliot climbed down. They stood shoulder to shoulder looking at the device. Someone had been inside. Not once. Not recently. Long enough ago to install it. Long enough to hear everything. Arguments. Sex. Confessions. Mason. Lucas. Five names. Ronan’s lies.
Everything. His phone vibrated. Neither wanted to look.
Ronan did anyway. There you go. Another message.
I was wondering how long it would take. Elliot stared.
Ronan felt something inside him turn cold.
The watcher knew they had found it. Which meant the device wasn't only listening.
Or there was another one. Ronan slowly looked around the room.
The phone vibrated again. Now bite back. Ronan stared at the words.
Elliot looked at him. Neither spoke. Then somewhere downstairs, glass shattered.
Both turned toward the door. The patrol officer outside shouted.
A second voice followed. Then a gunshot cracked through the night.
Ronan’s entire body locked. Elliot grabbed his wrist. Hard. “Stay behind me.” Ronan stared at him.
“You have nothing.”
“I know.” Another crash downstairs. Footsteps. Inside the house. Elliot looked toward the hallway. His entire face changed. Ronan saw it happen. Fear disappeared.
Tenderness disappeared. The sweet college student vanished. What remained was the person beneath all of it. The one Ronan had spent weeks trying not to see. Elliot released his wrist. Then smiled. Small. Cold. Terrifying.
“Good.”