Page 103 of The Demons We Hide

“You want the Scorpion, right?” I ask.

Vikson doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t have to. A cold laugh bursts from my throat and I shake my head as I speed down the streets of Silverwood, heading for the highway that takes me out of town.

“Fine, you want your nephew then?” I prompt.

That earns me an answer. “What are you proposing?” Vikson asks.

“I’m not proposing shit, old man,” I say. “I’m just telling you—if you want Lex to trust you, if you want him on your side, if you want his skills as the Scorpion, then you better show up and you better bring a hell of a lot of lawyers.”

“Lawyers? What the fuck have you done?” There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the line and then quick footsteps as if he’s hurrying somewhere. “Tell me everything, Nolan.”

“When you’re here,” I assure him. “When I know you can be trusted.”

“Nolan.” Mitchell Vikson angry is a scary fucking sound, but I don’t let the rolling waves of thunder coming through my phone speaker distract me from my goal.

Mitchell Vikson has ties to Eastpoint. He’s got money. He’s got connections. He knows far too much to be a true civilian. If he can fix the mess we’re about to make, then I don’t give a fuck what I have to do to get him here. I’ll make promises, break them, form alliances, kill, lie, cheat, steal.

Juliet Donovan is out there, and I think someone wants her dead.

I’ll put a bullet in my head before I ever allow that to happen.

“Deal or no deal, Vikson,” I state. “Make your choice.”

The other man blows out a frustrated sound. “Fine,” he snaps. “Deal, but Nolan?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you keep the body count to a minimum and eye witnesses to zero.”

That won’t be a problem, not with where they’ve seemed to take her. I make a noise of agreement.

“And one more thing,” he adds. “Just call me Viks.”

The phone line goes dead as he hangs up, and I reach over, plucking my cell off the passenger seat before shooting him the coordinates to Trail’s End. I can promise to keep my own body count to a minimum, but Viks is about to learn that his nephew is a whole different breed of psycho.

41

JULIET

3 years ago…

Sharp nails stab into my arm as my mom yanks me away from Bran and Avery’s side. All dressed up in her evening finery, Mom glares down at me with a false smile painted across her face. She turns her eyes to my best friend and boyfriend for a moment.

“Will you excuse us, darlings, I have to talk to Juliet for a moment.”

Avery smiles back, her own grin a bit loopy because the three of us just snuck out to the courtyard for a few extra shots. If I thought three more would give me the strength to deal with my mom’s demands tonight, I was wrong. I wish I’d taken another five before returning to this stupid party.

I can’t even remember what it’s for anymore. An animal charity, maybe? Saving the sea turtles? Ha. Fat chance. More than likely, this is another dumb attempt for my Mom to make friends with the wives of Dad’s associates. When will she realize that none of them like her and this is exactly why.

“Sure, Mrs. Donovan,” Bran answers when Avery can’t seem to form words. He reaches for my best friend and for a moment, I hate the way his hand curves around her shoulders as well as the way she leans into him almost instinctively. Then, I hate myself because he’s just looking out for her. Jealousy is an ugly look on a woman—or so my mom always says.

“Thank you, dears.” Mom doesn’t wait for another moment as she begins to drag me backwards. I wince as her freshly manicured nails dig into my upper arm even harder and stumble on the slight rise of my heels. She was the one who said I had to look the part if I wanted to come to their party tonight—news flash, I didn’t, but how would it look if the Donovans’ only daughter didn’t show up to their gala.

I bite back my complaints and allow my mother to lead me from the giant ballroom of the hotel they’ve rented out for this event. Once we’re out of sight of the majority of eyes, she starts walking faster, not seeming to care when I trip and nearly fall flat on my face.

“Mom.” I hiss as the tip of my heel catches one of the tiles underfoot.

“Oh, stop your whining,” she snaps back. “You were embarrassing your father and me in there. I cannot believe you thought it was appropriate to sneak out and come back drunk.”

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