Page 153 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Yeah, I brought him.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “He has something he wants to say to you.”

“I don’t care,” I say, my panic flaring. “I don’t want to talk to him, Knox.”

“I think you should.”

“What?” I stare at him, stunned.

“Look, Kat,” he says. “It’s not his fault. Monroe forced him to shake us up.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story. Well... it’s actually pretty short. The gist of it is: Monroe had some dirt on Tesla. He threatened to leak it unless Logan did what he was told. Logan didn’t want to do it. Blah, blah, blah. You should hear him out.”

I narrow my eyes at him.“What?”

“Don’t ask me.” He nods toward the bridge. “Askhim.”

“He’s a liar, Knox,” I say, holding my ground.

“So are you.”

My mouth falls open.

He mirrors me, jaw dropping dramatically. “Just go talk to him. Afterward, if you’re still done with the guy, we’ll leave the show tonight with a bottle of Pam’s finest and a box of Twinkies. We’ll do the broken heart, trash TV, cry-it-out thing all you want. But...” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “Talk to him first.”

“What?”

“Just fucking go, Kat!” He shoves my swing with both hands and it lurches sideways, making the whole structure groan. “I’ll be here. Hopefully,” he says, his eyes climbing up. “Pretty sure this thing is gonna collapse any moment now.”

I glance back at Logan. He’s still watching me from the bridge, unmoving. There’s something in his eyes. Something raw. Something broken.

How do I know it’s real? I can’t trust my own instincts anymore.

But I can trust Knox’s.

“Hear him out?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Knox nods.

I exhale hard, then stand. My fingers grip the rusted swing chain for balance until I feel the ground steady beneath me.

“Good luck, sister,” he says as I walk past.

I cross the patchy grass toward the bridge. Every sound is magnified around me as I climb the faded castle-like structure, mixing with my racing pulse. The tunnel roof is too low, so I duck as I pass through.

Then I step onto the rickety bridge.

Logan stands when I do. The wooden planks creak and shift under our weight as we move toward each other, stopping in the center.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I reply, holding my breath.

He glances at Knox across the park. “Did he tell you about Monroe?”

“He mentioned him. And… something about Tesla?”

“Yeah, she…” Logan hesitates. “Well, you’ll hear all about it soon, I’m sure.” His eyes flick over me—my crossed arms, my tense shoulders. With a quiet sigh, he reaches for his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Open your hand.”

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