Page 85 of Preying Heart
“Yeah, and I love you to death, bro. But you’re not taking this like a man. You’re sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. She needs you.”
“She doesn’t love me. Read what she says. She can’t say the words I want to hear.”
“So?”
“What do you mean so?” I pound on my broken heart with a closed fist. “After I gave her everything I’ve got, she crushes me like a worm under a rock.”
“Whatever.” Lucy rolls her eyes. “After you finish feeling sorry for your sorry ass, you come talk to me.”
She plops herself on the easy chair next to me and reaches for my whiskey tumbler.
“Why aren’t you leaving me alone?” I grab it from her. “Get your own bottle.”
“I didn’t like Remi when I first met her,” she says. “I figured she was the typical socialite with the emphasis on light. Highlighted blond hair. Willowy figure toned on exercise equipment, yoga mats, and meditation. The kept lover of a congressman. I mean, how shallow can you get?”
“Yeah, I make bad choices, in other words. At least I didn’t marry her.”
“Who’s talking about you?” She nudges me. “I’m having a moment here. You’re not the only one disappointed.”
“You just said you didn’t like her much.”
“She grows on you, just like Glock grows on you.” Lucy pours herself a finger of whiskey and knocks it back. “I saw what she was doing with you. Changing. Finding her feet. Hardening her spine. I was shocked when she first pushed back on you. I couldn’t believe it. She kept you at arm’s length, and she didn’t cave in to her fears. Remember she accused us of trying to scare her about Big Dude so we can keep her safe and take the money?”
“I don’t want to remember anything.” I knock back another shot of whiskey.
“I’ll let you grieve tonight. But by tomorrow morning if you ain’t got your shit together, I’m going to kick your ass.”
“You and Remi ganging up on a man when he’s down. That’s the thanks I get.”
Lucy flips the letter over facedown. “Read it again when you stop feeling sorry for yourself. Then go and be her hero. If she’s going to take down Gavin, she’s going to need backup.”
She gets up from the chair and marches to the door. “Meanwhile, I have to pack. I’m flying to Seattle. I offered Remi friendship, and I’m not going to turn my back on her.”
The room spins after she’s gone, and I find my bottle’s empty, and I curse my sister. She’s gone and one-upped me again. Rubbed my nose in my misery.
I need to do something, and I need to know who’s going to stop me.
I pick up the phone and call the Big Dude.
I don’t expect anyone to answer. After all, didn’t my contact tell me the Bitcoin address belonged to a dead guy?
“Yeah?” the same rough voice answers. “You lost her. What kind of protection are you?”
“Who are you?” My voice is slurred but I don’t care. “Why did you want to keep her safe?”
“I have my interests. You have yours. I have no time for losers like you. I know where she is right now, and you have no clue. I’ll finish it. You stay out of it. Loser.”
“Who are you?”
“Not a loser. I never lose.” He cuts the call.
That gruff voice. That craggy face. That disdain for losers. That granite smirk when the DA dropped the charges. The finger he gave me while crowing, “I never lose.”
No way.
No.
But it fits. He’s been keeping track of me through Operation Persephone.
