Page 13 of Pretty Lethal
We thoroughly search Mel’s entire apartment, stuffing literally everything we find that ties back to Emilia into the trash bags to bring with us. By the time we’re done, the trunk is full, and we head home in silence.
Everyone goes straight to the kitchen as soon as we get in and gathers around the table while I upload the image of the young girl from Mel’s shoebox to the facial recognition software on my laptop.
“How long should it take?” Emilia asks beside me as she gnaws anxiously on her bottom lip.
“Depends. Hopefully, only a few minutes, but it can take an hour or more.”
Hearing that, Hawk gets up to grab the decanter of whiskey and four glasses. “Do you want wine, Em?”
“No,” she says, gesturing to the decanter in his hand. “Whiskey is good.”
He pours each of us a hefty measure before dispersing the glasses and downing nearly half of his own in one go before staring into the glass like it holds all the answers to life’s questions. Emilia takes a sip from hers, her face scrunching as it burns its way down her esophagus before pushing the cup away. Wilder hums in contentment as he drinks from his, not appearing fazed by any of this. I don’t touch mine, wanting to keep a level head for whatever we might find.
We sit in anxious silence as the seconds tick by. Emilia watches the screen intently while Hawk stares into his whiskey and Wilder whistles under his breath, lounging in his chair with his glass in hand like we’re waiting on our lunch order and not results that could ultimately help us identify Mel.
I still don’t quite get that guy, but I can’t deny he has been a solid source of support for Emilia this past week. He truly does seem to have turned a corner when it comes to her.
However, I find him downright infuriating half of the time. He’s a possessive asshole when it comes to Emilia, wanting to hog her every waking second—and her sleeping ones.
“Ehh, while we’re waiting…” Emilia hedges, still chewing on her lower lip nervously. “I was thinking maybe we should set up a, uh, schedule. For sleeping. A sleeping schedule.” She’s rambling and her cheeks have a hint of a flush on them. It’s freaking adorable.
“So we each trade-off nights with you?” I clarify, earning a sharp nod in confirmation.
“Plus, I have a night alone, if that’s okay.”
“Of course, that’s okay. You need your own space just as much as we do,” I inform her, reaching over to link my fingers with hers. “I think a schedule is a great idea, at least until we all adjust to the dynamic.” Andsomeof us learn the meaning of give and take.
She smiles gratefully at me, which has my insides lighting up like fireworks on the fourth of July. I’m a total goner for this girl.
“Dibs on tonight,” Wilder barks out so fast that the words meld into one while I’m too busy losing myself in Emilia’s iridescent green hues.
My gaze snaps to him, eyes hardening with displeasure. Of course, he demands the first night. If he had a say, he’d demand all of her nights, even her ones alone. He’d happily suffocate her if he could. I’ll have to be careful to make sure he doesn’t barge in unwanted on the nights she is by herself.
Utterly unbothered by the stern glare I’m giving him, he grins manically at Emilia like he won the grand prize at a carnival stand. Frustratingly, it lessens some of my anger toward him. How the fuck can I be pissed at him when he stares at my girl like that? With the same love I feel for her?
Fucking asshole.
“I already called tonight,” Hawk states, smirking like the cat who got the cream.
Wilder gapes at him, clearly outraged, before turning pleading eyes on Emilia. “Tell me he hasn’t.”
“He has,” Emilia says with a grimace, and I can already understand her need to have a schedule, purely so she doesn’t feel bad for spending time with one of us over the others.
Hawk is used to having Emilia all to himself, and despite the fact he has always seemed fine with sharing her, having to give up some of his nights with her is definitely grating on his nerves a little.
Especially the time she spends with Wilder, although I figure that has more to do with Hawk’s issues with Wilder than anything else and will resolve whenever they sort out their shit.
“Fine, then tomorrow you’re all mine,” Wilder orders, his gaze heavy on Emilia and filled with sinful promise.
She glances hesitantly my way, as if expecting me to take issue with having to wait two more nights before she’s in my bed again. Would I prefer to have Emilia in my bed every night? Fuck, yes. But ultimately, I want her to be happy, and Hawk and Wilder make her happy, so I’m content to wait my turn. Besides, this way I appreciate her attention even more, and on the nights when she is mine, I can devote all of my time to her.
I nod, letting her know that I’m okay, and Wilder punches his fist into the air.
A ping from the laptop, signifying the search is complete, has all of us sitting straighter in our chairs, all discussions about a sleeping schedule forgotten. I share a glance with the others before leaning in and reading the results.
“Rebecca Royce. Twenty-three. Lives in Boston,” I read aloud.
“Who is she?” Hawk asks, getting up and moving around the table to stand behind me.
