Page 3 of To the Grave

Daisy had been a shell of her former self for almost three months. It had been fine in the beginning — we’d understood — but now I was starting to really fucking worry about her.

We’d been working in the background — trying to figure out who Mr. X was and who was responsible for the fire at the Blades compound — while she grieved. Calvin’s work with Daisy’s dad had been aboveboard. We knew that now. But the text messages on his phone proved that he’d been moonlighting for Mr. X.

And Mr. X was still out there.

Another girl had gone missing just two weeks earlier, this one a bartender in Carlton. The media said the FBI was working on it, that they were investigating the disappearances as the work of a potential serial kidnapper or murderer, but so far it didn’t look like they were doing shit.

We’d found next to nothing on the clone we’d made of Calvin’s phone, just a single mention of a dive bar in a blink-and-you’d-miss-it town a half hour from Blackwell Falls. Otis and I had taken turns casing the place, but so far we’d seen nothing but a series of locals coming and going in various states of drunkenness.

I’d just poured the smoothie into the cup when Daisy appeared at the foot of the back staircase leading to the kitchen. She looked sullen and beautiful even with the shadows underher violet eyes. She’d pulled her chestnut hair into a ponytail and was wearing yoga pants and a workout top instead of Jace’s sweats, a defeated slant to her shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

I wanted to pull her into my arms and never let her go, absorb all the pain I knew she was feeling, take it as my own.

She glared from me to Otis and back again. “I hate you.”

I bent to kiss her forehead, then handed her the smoothie. “I know. Let’s go.”

Chapter 5

Daisy

Iused my key card to get into The Gym — I still thought it was ridiculous that it was called that — and was surprised to find Locke waiting for me.

One of the things I liked most about the place when I’d signed up was that it was open 24/7. It was only staffed during the day, but members were given a key card to access the place any time of the day or night, and there had been more than a few mornings when I’d been living with Cassie when I’d been the first one in.

Now it was barely light out, sunlight just begging to creep across the sky, and Locke was already here, muttering under his breath as he re-racked some weights near the wall of mirrors. He hated when we didn’t re-rack our own weights, and I didn’t blame him.

Rude.

“Hey,” I said as the door swung shut behind me.

“Hey.” He didn’t bother lifting his head, and I realized he’d been expecting me.

“Wait… are you here for me?” I asked, crossing the lobby and stepping deeper into the surprisingly large space.

At the back, a boxing ring was set up for members who liked to spar. An assortment of machines and other equipment stood at the ready between the ring and the front door, the free weights racked against the mirrors that lined the walls.

He straightened and came toward me. “Yep.”

He was huge — at least as big as Jace had been (ouch) — with a full head of graying hair and a matching beard. His arms and chest — partially visible under his black tank top — were covered in ink.

“But how did you…” It didn’t take me long to put it together: the early morning wake-up call from Otis, the waiting smoothie from Wolf, the two of them insisting on driving me into town. “They called you.”

“They’re worried about you.” Locke’s gaze raked my body, but not in a suggestive way. More like a mechanic surveying the damage after a horrific car accident. “Now I see why.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

He shrugged. “You’ve lost muscle mass. Not going to blow sunshine up your ass.”

“I’m not sure anything’s going to help me right now.” It felt good to say the words out loud, especially to someone like Locke, who I didn’t really know that well.

I’d talked to Cassie and Sarai, but that had been almost as hard as staying quiet. They were so obviously worried, so clearly out of their element. They had no idea what to say or do and I didn’t blame them.

The situation was epically fucked.

Willa had reached out, but I hadn’t returned her calls or texts. She was eight months pregnant now, almost ready to have the Kings’ baby, a reminder of the life I might have led if Jace had lived.

I knew Wolf and Otis were there, that they’d let me talk about Jace as much as I wanted, but it felt wrong to fall apart in front of them again and again. Jace had been like their brother since they were kids. They were hurting too. It didn’t feel fair to keep laying the weight of my grief on their shoulders.

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