Page 41 of Dragonfly

And when I see the name scrawled in old-fashioned script? I think I might finally have something to confirm my suspicions.

Georgia Gayle.

Who the fuck is Georgia Gayle?

Savannah, most likely, but as I ignore Orion’s pissed-off yowls, I plop my ass on the rumpled bedsheet, trying not to imagine my wife sleeping here—or who she might have been sleeping here with—before I made her mine.

Who did I marry? Savannah—or this Georgia person?

I don’t know, and after Google is no fucking help, I stare at the front of my phone for a moment before I make a call.

Lincoln answers on the third ring, his snarl telling me that I’ve probably interrupted something my counterpart considers important.

Oh, well. To me, this is even more important…

“If you’re calling me to see if Tanner’s got any info on the snowflake, I’m only gonna tell you one more time: get off my ass. You think I’m not pissed that this fucker is sneaking in under my nose? My guys found three more guns, and it’s taking everything I can to not involve Royce while Nicolette’s recovering.”

I’m glad to hear that the Williams girl is doing alright. After seeing the mess Kieran made of her face for no other reason that she chose a Sinner over returning and being his property again, I can’t even fault ‘Rolls’ Royce McIntyre for shorting me one enforcer.

“So, yeah. I’ll get that to you when I get it. But my wife’s gonna pop in another month, my second is busy, and that’s not even half of what the hell is going on around here. Unless you got something else?—”

Clearing my throat, a signal for Devil to cut off his ridiculous tirade, I wait for him to shut up before I say, “There’s something else. I need a favor.”

When Lincoln doesn’t answer right away, all I can think is: huh. I’ve done the impossible. I’ve stunned a ranting Lincoln Crewes speechless.

It doesn’t last long. Within seconds, he’s back on the line. “A favor? Damien fucking Libellula is asking me for a favor?”

“Actually. This one is more for Tanner.”

Lincoln chuckles. “Yeah. That makes more sense. Alright. What do you need from my guy?”

I glance down at the ripped envelope. “Anything he can tell me about a woman named Georgia Gayle…”

FIFTEEN

ORION

SAVANNAH

When Damien walks into the bedroom—or, as I can’t keep from thinking about it, my new, updated prison cell—about an hour and a half after he walked out of it, I want nothing more than to work up the energy to hate him more than I already have.

And then I see what he has curled up against his chest?—

“Orion!”

It doesn’t even occur to me to pretend like I couldn’t care less that he’s carrying the orange and white cat into the room. I probably should have. The other night, he asked me if there was anyone I cared about, and I told him no. I’d been talking about people at the time, since prison cost me any friends and family I had before and plotting revenge took up too much time for me to make any now. But Orion… at a time in my life that I was ready to just give up and end it, he was the reason I didn’t.

Seeing him again after I was sure that my impulsiveness and need for revenge would be the death of my baby… I rush toward him, tears burning my eyes as he hold out my arms.

I swear to God, if Damien jerked him out of my reach, I think I might’ve gone for his throat. Doubt I’m strong enough to overpower and strangle him, but for my cat, I’d try.

That’s not what happens. Instead, hefting my confused cat up, not even scowling when his claws snag on his jacket, Damien passes Orion over to me.

My cat lets out an annoyed mrow as I squeeze him tight, but he lets me love on him, my tears spilling out, dampening his fur as I bury my face against his back.

While I’m whispering apologies to Orion, Damien disappears again, but this time he’s only gone for a minute or two.

I catch sight of him walking back into the room, holding a laundry basket full of shit.

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