Page 126 of Chaotic Curse
I know what it means.
Jordan shuffles in, nearly late again.I ignore him as he pulls on his apron.
After class, I’ll text Vinnie about the chocolate.About the one piece that gives me the clue I’ve been searching for.
Colombian.
I can taste the cup in my hands again.Fruit.Flower.Earth.I feel the wood of the molinillo between my palms.The price of that lesson on my knees in the pantry, but the beautiful way that the chocolate erased the taste of his rancid dick.
Ifhesent these, he wants me to remember.He wants something else too.
But what?
I have nothing to give.My father’s money was all dirty.I’m virtually penniless.Everything I have is from Vinnie.
And if it’s me he wants…
I square my shoulders.Pick up my knife.I breathe.
“Okay,” Chef calls.“Let’s get ready.”
My eyes are up.My knuckles are steady.
And for the first time since I got the roses, I feel I might survive all of this.
39
HAWK
Gettinginto the gated community was easier this time.Reyes gave me his personal passcode to use at the gate so I didn’t have to wait for another resident to piggyback on.I kill the engine and sit for a beat, watching Reyes’s house through the windshield.
It’s quiet.Too quiet.
He’s not here.I left him gagged in the barn, wrists cinched.No phone, no way to signal anyone.And still…
The back of my neck itches.
What if he has a contingency?
Somebody he checks in with every day?
Somebody who’s already wondering why they haven’t heard from him?
I mean, if I were a gangster, that’s what I’d do.I’d have a failsafe in place for just this type of situation.
The thought makes my jaw lock.I scan the house.The fake cameras are still in place.But they don’t need to be real to fuck me over if there’s someone watching the outside.
Still.Once I have the diary and the photos, none of it will matter.
If the bastard’s dumb enough to leave a written confession and trophies, I’ll have him by the throat forever.
I move fast, keeping low under the big front windows, and slip inside from the back like I did before.His place smells like stale cigar smoke and money—the scent of a man who’s never had to clean up after himself.
I find the master bedroom and head to the large closet where Reyes’s suits hang in neat rows.I go to the back, just like he told me.I pull aside a section of shelving, and there it is.
The safe.
I punch in the code he gave me.
