Page 115 of The Last Call Home
Malerick’s jaw ticks.“What about the bracelet?You said you need to analyze it.”
I shrug.It’s so casual, but inside, I’m wound so fucking tight I feel like I might detonate.“I can take it before that or after she goes to sleep.”
His eyes narrow.“You’re going to steal it from her.”
“Borrow it temporarily,” I clarify dryly.
“Your pickpocketing days are over, Cass.”He glares at me.
I let the corner of my mouth twitch just enough to bait him.He’s always hated that part of me.Mostly because it means I was practically abandoned by adults and had to look after Mom right before she died.“Sure.But I like it when I get to reminisce.”
“What’s my role?”he asks unamused.
“Supportive partner?”I throw him a wink, teasing, but it doesn’t quite land the way I want.There’s too much on the line.“Probably their driver if I have to get them out of here tonight.”
He groans and rubs at his temples.“I don’t like this.Rosalinda should have?—”
“Told us she was involved with a syndicate?”I cut in, scoffing.“Sure, she’d tell the sheriff right away.”
He drops his hands and glares again.“They have to understand that we’re here to protect Lilah.”
“We’ll convince them,” I assure him.“First, we have to figure out what we’re fighting against.”
There’s too much we don’t know.Too much we might’ve missed.
Delilah thinks she’s safe because the only people in danger are supposed to be the Timberbridge brothers.But what if she’s not, and are we already too late?
ChapterFifty-Four
Delilah
There’ssomething about the stretch of highway between town and Simone’s place that never sits right with me.It’s too lonely, too quiet.There are no streetlights, so obviously, it’s extremely dark at night.It’s definitely eerie and creepy.So, creepy it makes your skin crawl.The trees press in close, like they’re trying to block the view—or hide what’s watching from the other side.Probably black bears or the occasional lynx.
Cell service drops out right around mile marker eight, and that’s when the road starts to feel less like a route and more like a setup for the next Stephen King book—coming to your screen next summer.
It’s not until you get to her house that everything is bright again.No wonder she has a big-ass fence and gates.Well that, and also, she’s hiding Keir.Anyone sees him and ...well, I honestly don’t know what will happen.
We’re supposed to be sad and worried about his disappearance.Except her, since she used to hate him.
Maybe Keir’s presence is a good reason why I should turn the fuck around and head back home.It has nothing to do with my instincts screaming that something is not right.
Nope.That happens a lot when I come out here without my guys.
I should’ve brought them.I know better.But that would’ve killed the whole girls’ night out vibe—well, more like girls’ night in.
I don’t turn around.
Today feels like a good day to fake normal.
Which is ridiculous, considering normal has been extinct for what feels like fucking forever.
These days, normal looks like checking exits, watching my back, and pretending like my life isn’t one wrong move from going up in flames—again.
Especially after the bakery exploded.
It’s being rebuilt—brick by fucking brick—but that doesn’t mean I’m doing well.My therapist explained that PTSD can happen even when I wasn’t inside the bakery burning to a crisp.I suffered a loss.Not only material, but also a loss of security.
Of course, the fear doesn’t go away.It lives in my bloodstream now—coded in like a dormant virus waiting to flare.Perhaps next time, I won’t be so lucky.Maybe next time, they’ll finish what they started.
