Page 31 of Wild Devil

She ushers me into a bathroom and runs the water while I stare at the bruised, swollen shadow of myself I find in the mirror. This girl isn’t the sweet, naïve Frey that Daze rescued from the rail of a bridge. My father was right. I’m a new creature entirely.

And only God knows what I’m capable of.

Without taking my eyes off this strange new Frey, I finally open my fist to reveal the bloodied razor blade. In lieu of an engagement ring to mark this occasion, it feels like the next best thing.

A promise of what is to come.

ELEVEN

DAZE

Even though I’m not familiar with his work, it doesn’t take long to see why Damien counts Lex as a valued part of the crew. The man is smart as hell. He has spent the past ten minutes explaining, in excruciating detail, how he convinced the reporter to come to this rundown cafe on the outskirts of Westpoint and why.

“Come again?” I ask, forcing Lex to reiterate his plan for the millionth time. The man’s whip-thin body resembles a twig next to me, but I know that he is more than capable of handling himself, given the muscles shaping the pale arms bared by his black T-shirt.

“It’s simple, really,” he says, propping his fist beneath his chin. “I used a method of data scraping and scouring his social media to form a profile of this guy that I could extrapolate to figure out his real intentions.”

Gritting my teeth, I say, “In English, that means…”

“His name is Jamie Colland, and he’s some up-and-coming hotshot. He’s real big on the investigative expose scene, you see?” He takes a sip of coffee from a chipped mug, not that he needs the added caffeine. The man practically vibrates, radiating his own constant supply of energy. In a fight, I’m guessing that comes in handy. “He’s all about taking down mainly blue-collar crime, which is what drew his notice to the Heywoods in the first place. Something has him spooked, though. He’s been hard to lure out?—”

“I know that,” I snap, fighting to keep my irritation in check. I’m all for respecting other methods of attack—as a fighter, the first thing I learned was that brute strength isn’t always the answer. The key to any victory is to outthink and outsmart your opponent.

But right now, I’d rather be beating the shit out of Silas than waiting for some scrawny writer to show his face.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I add, watching Lex’s eyes sparkle at the challenge.

“Bet. It seems like this guy was intrigued by a bunch of real-estate developments,” he says, spreading out his long fingers against the table. “At first. Then a rash of convenient overdoses caught his eye, but do you want to know the real kicker behind what he might have stumbled upon?”

Fuck. I don’t like the sound of that. “What?”

“Well—” Lex breaks off and nods to something behind me. “Looks like he showed. You can ask him yourself.”

I crane my neck to spy a thin figure slinking toward our section of the café. Despite the fading sunlight, he’s wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled low and a pair of sunglasses. Paired with the black laptop bag slung over his shoulder, it’s a wonder someone doesn’t mistake him for a suicide bomber and call the fucking police.

“I think you overdid it on the stealth, Nancy Drew,” I call out.

He lifts his head enough for me to make out a surprisingly young face with a delicate bone structure. “And you underdid it,” he hisses, squeezing into the seat across from me. “Do you not realize that you’re one of the most wanted men in the fucking city right now?”

I shrug and point to the baseball cap perched on my head. “This is my idea of stealth.”

It doesn’t seem important to add that Ben’s the one who insisted I add that piece of gear to my ensemble—I was too busy making sure that I didn’t wander into the city without being armed to the teeth. Thanks to Damien’s connections, I feel more than secure, no matter who might show up to crash this little party.

“I see you didn’t exactly come alone,” Jamie grouses next, eying Lex, who lurks over my shoulder.

“Tough shit,” I counter. “You took the bait, which means you want what I have to share. Now, you tell me what Frey told you.”

“By Frey, you mean Frances Heywood,” he says. Gingerly, he sets his computer bag on the table between us and takes off his sunglasses. With his wide brown eyes on display, he seems even more like some scrawny punk, nowhere near formidable enough to prove a threat to Heywood and his burgeoning criminal empire. Or, so one might think, if they weren’t as familiar with cage fighters as I am. While I doubt he’s thrown a punch in his life, this man’s stare isn’t fearful in the slightest. From the stern tilt to his jaw, he has already sized me up and decided whether he can trust me. For now, he seems cautious.

Smart man.

“She didn’t tell me much,” he admits. “We were merely able to put the pieces together as to what a certain construction company may be up to. Higher Limit. They’ve been buying up property here and here—” From his bag, he withdraws a folded piece of paper that he unfurls to reveal a map. One by one, he points to several locations. “These ring a bell?”

“No,” I say. “What does this have to do with Michael Heywood?”

Jamie furrows his brows and shrugs. “I think the real question is, what could Michael Heywood accomplish with these properties? It must be something big, because ever since I started making a few phone calls to inquire for a story, I’ve noticed that I’m being followed. Someone doesn’t want these purchases scrutinized.”

“He’s hiding something,” I surmise, cracking my knuckles at the prospect.

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