Page 34 of Jagger's Remorse

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And everyone thinks they won while she's collecting victories like scalps.

My phone buzzes.

Chord:

Heading to Modesto. That stash house better be real.

I stare at the text, unease crawling up my spine.

She gave up that location too easily.

Too readily.

A trap?

Or another move in her game?

I start to text back a warning, then stop.

What would I say?

The cartel princess might be playing us?

The woman I just publicly fucked has an agenda?

They already know that.

They just don't know how deep it goes.

Neither do I.

But I'm starting to suspect I'm about to find out.

I head to my room, find the door locked.

From the inside.

"Scarlett?"

"Washing off your sins," she calls. "Give me twenty minutes."

"How did you lock?—"

"Same way I'll unlock it later. When I'm ready."

The water runs, and I hear her humming.

Something familiar.

Something that makes my blood freeze.

Mom's favorite hymn.

The one she hummed while making breakfast.

While folding laundry.

While dying of cancer, I couldn't fix.

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