Beneath These Scars Page 59

“And?”

“It’s complicated?” I said, but it came out more as a question than a statement.

“I bet. But it’s good?”

I nodded. “Yes. It’s good.”

“Then you’re a lucky bitch. I was just curious, I guess. You two seem so different that it’s hard to picture—” She broke off abruptly. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

I held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’m the last person anyone would pick to be with him.” I thought of Colson’s words. Yeah, Valentina was a much better match.

But I’m not giving him up to her. The force behind the thought took me by surprise. I guessed I’d made my decision. Now I just had to find out what Lucas really thought about where this was going.

“Who cares what anyone thinks. If it works for you two, that’s all that matters,” JP said. “So, are you going to go to the preview? I’d love to come too, and see how it works, but I’ve got a thing tonight I can’t miss.”

“A thing?”

She grinned. “Yeah, an appointment to get a new tat. This hot dude at Voodoo Ink—who I’ve been waiting months to get in to see—finally had a cancellation. Otherwise I’d be waiting another month.”

“Con?” I asked, because he was the only male tattoo artist I knew of who worked there. But he was firmly taken by Vanessa, and they’d both been spending the majority of their time at the gym, working with the kids.

She shook her head. “Nah, he’s not doing much work lately, from what I’ve heard. It’s the newer guy. Bishop. He’s a sexy beast of a man. That man bun. Seriously hot. I’ve never been all about the long-haired guys, but with him, I can see the appeal. My plan is to get the tat and his number. I think he’s single. I’ve been doing some digging.”

“Stalking, you mean?”

JP shrugged. “Eh, let’s not throw labels around, okay?”

Once again, anticipation filled me at the thought of the estate sale. It was exactly what I needed after Lucas and Jerome had conspired to purchase a good chunk of Dirty Dog’s inventory. I was still trolling my regular sources, but I needed a bulk buy. Maybe I could negotiate something tonight. The thrill of the hunt and the high of bargaining was already building in my bones. It was my fix. My addiction.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely go. Hopefully it’ll be a good one.”

JP squealed. “Awesome!”

We finished our lunches just before the door chime rang. A little distracted, I was counting the hours before I could head out and hunt for treasures—and put my questions about my future with Lucas to rest.

I pulled up to the antebellum mansion at six forty-five. There were no other cars in the drive, which was a little crazy given the load of goods behind those doors and the fact that people like me were used to arriving early to get the best of the lot. Heck, I thought I’d really be arriving too late. I wondered how many flyers had been handed out, because I hadn’t seen it advertised on any of my normal sites for estate sales.

The mansion looked like it could be the set for a show about haunted plantations. Older, not exactly run-down, but a stately lady showing her age. I parked the Blue Beast and stepped out. When Jerome had returned from his lunch, I’d shown him the flyer, and he’d immediately rained on my parade. He’d told me under no circumstances was I to come tonight, because he couldn’t accompany me. I’d completely forgotten that his sister was flying in, and he’d committed to picking her up.

But I wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity. So, I’d maybe told him a little white lie, promising I’d come with him in the morning. And I would—to pick up all of the stuff I bought that wouldn’t fit in the Blue Beast.

The sound of another car coming up the road had me hurrying up the steps. Maybe I’d just been the first of the vultures to arrive.

I rang the bell and waited impatiently. Footsteps sounded from inside the house.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded as the door creaked open. I opened my mouth to say something else, but the words didn’t come. A sharp pain pinched my neck . . . and everything went black.

I PULLED UP TO THE office building a few minutes before seven. I assumed I was meeting Haines at his new campaign headquarters. Part of me had wanted to decline completely, but curiosity got the better of me. Curiosity and ambition, if I were being honest.

Sure enough, the sixth-floor lobby had a big sign proclaiming Vote Haines on the door. Never too early to start campaigning. I let myself in, but the reception area was empty. I didn’t have to wait long, however, before the man himself came out.

“Prompt. I like that in a man, Titan.”

“Haines.”

“Come on back. You want something to drink?”

“Not necessary.” I followed him into a wood-paneled office with heavy dark furniture and leather club chairs. The scent of cigar smoke hung in the air. He crossed to a sideboard and poured himself what I assumed was bourbon.

“You sure?”

“I’m fine. Just here to find out what you’ve decided you want from me.”

Haines replaced the top of the crystal decanter and moved toward the window. He didn’t sit, and neither did I. This was a power play, and I was no stranger to winning them.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve got a hot little side piece.”

His statement took me by surprise, but I kept my face impassive.

“I have no idea why my personal life would be remotely interesting to you,” I said, my tone clearly conveying that the topic was not a discussion I would welcome.

“Well, you see, that’s exactly what I’m interested in.” His expression twisted into something sharp. “I’ve got a problem, and you’re the man who can help me solve it. And since you want something from me, I thought we could make a deal.”

“What the hell would Yve have anything to do with it?”

Haines’s smile turned predatory. “Ah, our little Yvie’s all grown up now. Haven’t seen much of her in years. And yet she’s once again a thorn in my side.”

I stilled at his familiar tone, everything in me going cold. “You better be ready to explain yourself.”

“You have no idea, do you? That I’ve known Yve since she was just a little thing. Six years old, maybe? Her mother is a friend of mine.”

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