Page 89 of Golden Touch
“Okay,” he says. “Fire when ready. Mute me first, and watch the chat.”
My stomach is suddenly full of angry bees as I mute Benito.
I pick up the burner again, handling it as if it were a hand grenade. After all this time, I’m just going to dial Razor’s number, and invite that asshole back into my life?
What a terrible idea this was.
Nash puts a hand on my knee and squeezes.
I open the flip phone and tap in the Vermont area code, 802. Then I take a deep breath and tap in the rest.
It rings. I forget to exhale.
Then suddenly his rasp of a voice is in my ear. “Razor. Who’s this?”
For a millisecond, I hesitate. Once I identify myself, there’s no going back.
“Who’s there?” he demands.
“Ivy,” I whisper. “It’s Ivy.”
That shuts him up for a second, which is gratifying. “Ivy,” he echoes eventually. “You run out of money or something? Or maybe you need a good fuck?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and resist the urge to tell him that he was never very good in that department. “No need to be rude, Razor. I just called to tell you that I’m leaving Vermont, and I thought you should know.”
“Good luck with that,” he says. “Doesn’t matter where you go, I’ll still be able to find you. Took me a while this time, but I did it, yeah? You’re never out of reach, babe. You cross me, and I’ll hunt you down. And I’ll make it hurt when I find you.”
All my blood stops circulating. Nash puts a hand on my back, reminding me to breathe.
I can feel my heart thumping in my throat. “Look,” I say, and it comes out sounding shaky. “I called for a reason. But maybe it was stupid.”
“What reason?”
“Well, I have some things of yours that you probably want back.”
A brief silence tells me that I’ve got his attention. “Like what things?”
“Like insurance,” I whisper. “I took a thumb drive. It shows all the irregular VIN numbers on your books?—”
“You fucking little?—”
“Bitch? Whore? You can save it, okay?” His anger is somehow clarifying for me. It makes me stronger, and my voice comes out steady. “I wanted out, Razor. So I made sure I had something to trade in case the cops ever came after me.”
“And have they?” he demands.
“Not yet,” I say carefully. “For a while, I considered revenge. Thought about sending this stuff to them in the mail, with a note. But then I calmed down, and realized I don’t know if it’s traceable. And I never want to end up in a courtroom. I just want to move away from here and find some peace. So you can have this stuff if you agree to forget my name.”
Another silence from Razor.
You’re doing great,says Benito in the chat screen.Seriously fantastic!
“Not sure I care,” Razor says slowly. “Bunch of bad VIN numbers just means one of my guys is a shitty record keeper. It doesn’t incriminate me.”
I was prepared for this, but my shoulders sag anyway. Next time I decide to date an asshole, I’ll pick a stupider one. My heart pounds faster, because I’m about to tell him some serious lies. “Yeah, maybe. But that’s why I also parked an audio recorder in the clubhouse. I’ve got sixteen hours of conversation. You’re on a bunch of it.”
He snorts. “Sixteen hours of beer drinking and smack talk.”
“And your voice, discussing a drug drop in Troy, New York.”
