Page 39 of Tattletale

“Where is she?” I bark into the phone. “Iknowyou know.”

“It’s not a good night to—”

“No,”I roar. “I was so fucking loyal to you. I came to you to help mekeepCricket, not lose her. Look at this mess. I can’t—” I take a few steadying breaths. “Tell me right now, Vesper. Where is she?”

“She’s hurting, Lance.”

“Have you all forgotten?I’mCricket’s person. I know her better than any of you. If she’s hurting, then she needs me as much as I need her.”

Vesper’s quiet on the line for a beat. All I hear are her splashing footsteps amidst the rain. Obviously, she’s outside.

“Vesper,”I plead.

“We had drinks at Martinis.”

My jaw tenses. “She’s speaking to you?”

“I had some things I needed to clear up with her.”

The beast of jealousy rages in my chest. Vesper’s off the hook, but I’m still in the doghouse? I’m not the one who put a tracker in her. All I did was try to save Cricket from herself. This is bullshit. She’s supposed to be my wife.She’s mine.

“Are you guys still there?” I ask.

“No, I’m headed to collect our client personally, as a security measure.”

Right.The client Vesper won’t tell us about, but I have to put on a tie for. It’s probably an informant against some militant force or another. It’s the only time Vesper is so secretive like this.

“Is Cricket still at the bar?”

“Yes. I was going to send Callen to pick her up—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt, making my way back to the bedroom to fetch a pair of pants and a shirt. “I’m already on my way.”

“She doesn’t want to see you, Lance. You need to give it more time.”

I grit my teeth, thinking of my past week of misery. The gnawing ache of regret and worry, mixed with bitter resentment at the whole situation. I’m not living like this anymore.

“She’s had enough time. We’re sorting this out, tonight.”

TEN

CRICKET

I spinthe tiny oval purple pill on the bar table. Technically, it’s a pain pill. Actually, it’s a “buy yourself more time” pill. Just one of many assassin necessities. You could be bleeding out from a stab wound, and this tiny pill could help you finish a marathon with the knife still in your back. Pain slows you down. This purple pill takes it all away.

There’s just one rule: never take these with alcohol. It’ll rock your fucking world.

So, naturally, I pop the pill in my mouth, and slam back one more martini. Sue me. I need something stronger. Alcohol isn’t going to make me forget. Let’s see if this little pill can heal a broken heart.

I’ve already downed four martinis, and even though my vision is slightly blurred, I see clear as crystal when I shut my eyes. My lids close, and I see Pappa’s face. But I don’t see his smile. Instead, his face morphs into the devil’s as he orders his henchman to run my mother off the road, over the bridge, and plunge to her death.

It was raining that night. They said she slipped right off the road.

Lies.Such easy fucking lies for a twelve-year-old to gobble up.

Burn in hell, Pappa.

“Ollie?” I ask as I pass by the bar. I stumble and bang my knee on a barstool.Shit.I’m more drunk than I realized. I’m good at keeping my head when intoxicated. My coordination is a little lacking, though. “I need my tab.”

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