Page 90 of Scream For Me
Surprise flashes across his face as he takes in the scene in front of him. His gaze flicks from me to Kat sitting comfortably on my lap, then back again. I strategically place my hand in her lap, spreading my fingers casually across the fabric of my shirt pooled over her thighs. I’m the only other person in this room who knows she’s not wearing underwear, and I’d like it to stay that way.
Kat stiffens on top of me before relaxing again, clearly catching on to what I’m doing. The corner of her mouth twitches. I’m glad she finds this amusing because I fucking don’t. Cain, unfortunately, notices everything. He lifts a dark eyebrow as his expression shifts from surprise to poorly concealed amusement with the twitch of his mouth. The fucker is enjoying this.
“Should I come back later, boss?” Cain asks with a devious grin on his face.
“No. Anything you have to say can be said in front of Kat. It concerns her after all.”
I feel her stiffen in front of me. Shit, I probably should have briefed her on what this meeting was about.
“Are you okay?” I whisper to her as Cain takes his seat in front of us.
She gives a brief nod, but she stays ramrod straight.
“How are you doing, kiddo?” Cain asks Kat.
“Better,” she says, throwing a sly smile towards me, which Cain doesn’t miss.
“So,” he says, breaking the tension. “I don’t have any more intel on the hooded fucker. We’re still working on that.”
I see Kat’s face drop.
“You’re safe here, this house is impregnable,” I say, tightening my arm around her waist for emphasis.
“I do have bad news.” Cain tosses a manila folder onto the desk.
I pick it up and open it. My heart drops. “Another one?”
That makes four fucking disappearances.
I scan the text of the folder, my eyes stopping dead on one line. I read the line again, making sure I’m seeing the words correctly.
Residence: Ninth Street, Bridgeport.
“That’s two blocks from my apartment,” Kat says, taking the folder from my hands.
My blood runs cold.
“When did she go missing?” I ask, although I know the answer before it’s spoken.
“Four days ago,” Cain replies.
White-hot rage seeps into my veins, turning them to molten lava as a sick, creeping certainty settles in my chest. This girl wasn’t the intended target. There’s no fucking way. They wanted my girl. My hand tightens instinctively around her waist.
“What’s the plan, boss?” Cain asks, eagerness and bloodlust in his eyes.
“Assemble The Circle. They’ve got some fucking questions to answer.”
Forty-One
Kat
Wasted Years – Iron Maiden
Leather sticks to my bare legs as I adjust myself on the couch for the hundredth time, trying to get comfortable. Gilmore Girls plays on the screen, but I’m not paying attention.
I was angry when Elias insisted I stay home to rest. I pleaded with him to take me along, not to exclude me anymore. But he didn’t relent. He did promise to tell me everything when he got back. That was three hours ago, and since then, I’ve organized his refrigerator, changed my clothes twice, and I’ve somehow managed to get through a few episodes of the show. I even tried reading the news on my phone. That lasted five minutes before the headlines started to hit too close to home. Three hours is a long time when you’re waiting for bad news.
I flick my good wrist absentmindedly, flinging the feather toy around for Freddie, who’s chasing it with far more energy than I think I’ve ever had in my entire life. He’s happier here, there’s more room for him to play. If he gets bored with Elias and me, he finds a quiet corner to sleep in, or he goes to the window and watches the birds on the pine tree outside.
