Page 142 of In Case You Didn't Know
“Have either of you considered,” he says casually, “that you’re not the main characters in this particular episode.”
My eyes lock with Hudson’s. Yeah, we both pretty much want to kill his best friend right now.
Before we can decide on our weapon of choice, the office door bursts open like it’s been kicked.
Skyler strides in, her eyes narrow.
All the air rushes out of Hudson like a pricked balloon. “Sky…”
She puts her hand up, like she’s trying to block him. “Don’t try to sweet talk me,” she says. “Unless your next sentence is ‘here’s a chilled glass of lemonade and a full confession.”
“Where’s Francie?” I ask, looking behind her. I’m already rushing to the door, desperate to see her.
Skyler doesn’t answer at first. Just looks at me like I’m even more of an idiot than her husband.
“She’s not here,” she tells me, like I haven’t already gathered that.
“Thenwhereis she?” My jaw tightens.
Skyler sighs, walking further into the office and sitting down on the corner of Hudson’s desk. She suddenly notices West.
“Oh hi,” she says, like it’s a goddamned tea party. “How are you?”
“Completely entertained,” West says, deadpan.
“Hello?” They’re unbelievable. “Francie? You were going to tell me where she is.”
“Oh, I dropped her off at Annalise’s place.”
Silence fills the room. What the fuck?
Hudson swears under his breath. I feel the floor tilt beneath my feet.
“What?” My voice is too sharp. Too loud. But I can’t help it.
“She wanted to talk to her, woman to woman. About the blackmail.” Skyler’s eyes meet mine. “Since you and Hudson have this whole vow of silence thing going on, she decided to go straight to the source.”
“You let her go there alone?” I ask, my voice thick. I’m not sure I can breathe.
Skyler tilts her head. “I offered to be her wingman, but she said no. Because –shocker– she’s not a damsel in distress, Asher. She’s a grown ass woman who’s sick of being treated like she’s breakable.” She looks at Hudson. “And don’t think you’re getting away with this.”
“I’m damn sure I’m not,” Hudson mutters.
But I’m already grabbing my phone and keys. Then realizing I don’t have my car here, I grab Hudson’s.
“Upper East Side?” I ask Skyler.
“Yep. I dropped her off fifteen minutes ago.”
My throat tightens as I storm off, shoving the door open.
Then I’m gone, sprinting down the stairwell like my life depends on it.
Because it does.
I take the corner too fast. Tires squeal. A horn blares. And I don’t give a flying fuck. Hudson’s ridiculously expensive sports car growls beneath me like it’s made for moments like this.
My whole body is tense. My blood is heated, full of emergency-level, heart-pounding, punch-a-wall panic.
