Page 118 of Heartless Game

“I thought we worked our shit out, but then why is she not here?” I groaned into my hands.

Jack raised a hand. “Hang on. I know what it’s like to fuck up with a woman.”

Asher grunted.

“Isaac, we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s going on,” Jack said, his tone calmer.

Sighing, I did exactly that.

I told them everything. My obsession with Tovah from the day we’d met, the monster I’d try to banish by hating her. Stalking her for months, the interview, her blackmailing me and me blackmailing her back. Fucking her. Falling for her. And then the fallout over the past few days, ending with the blow-up in the shower this morning, and the make-up after. I even told them about me, how I was secretly crown prince of the Silver dynasty, and I’d been hiding from it for years so I could play hockey and pretend my violent inheritance wasn’t real.

When I finished, Judah clapped.

“What the fuck man?” I said.

“I didn’t think anyone could make more of a mess than Jack did with Aviva. But you deserve a crown for this shit.” Judah shook his head.

Asher was stuck on something else. “You’re Abe Silver’s son?”

I nodded, watching him warily.

He brushed a hand over his head. “I guess that makes us mortal enemies.”

“Guess so,” I said.

He put out a hand, and after a moment, I shook it.

“Fortunately,” he said, “I have no contact with that part of the family, so you’re good.”

Judah shook his head again. “It’s like we’ve been livingThe Prince and Me, except it’sThe Mafia Prince and Me,” he said.

Levi, however, didn’t say anything. He hadn’t looked surprised, either.

“You knew,” I guessed.

He shrugged. “I know more than any of you realize.”

I didn’t want to touch that.

“How did you leave things with her?” Jack asked. He already knew who I was, and didn’t care.

“We were fine,” I said. “We worked our shit out.”

“So then where the hell is she?” Judah asked logically.

Levi smacked him on the head. “That’s what he’s trying to figure out.”

Grabbing my phone out of my bag, I pulled up the tracker app. Tovah’s phone was still at home, thank fuck.

But a bad feeling made my scalp tingle, so I pulled open the other tracker app—the one that was tied to the tracker I’d put in her armpit.

The dot that showed her location wasnotat home. It was moving down I-278 East. Headed toward Ocean Parkway.

Toward Flatbush, Brooklyn.

No.

There was no fucking way.

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