Page 133 of House of Lies

Maybe I’ve lost more blood than I thought. I could escape, but I can’t even lift my hand to untie the knot on my other wrist. My eyes close, and I don’t know how much time has passed before they snap open again.

Did I just pass out?

My shivers are sporadic now. My teeth clattering, then clenching, then clattering. I can’t feel my toes anymore.

Did Angelo just leave me here to bleed out?

Where am I?

I stare around again, hoping to spot something.

Anything.

That’s when I see something hauntingly familiar in the shadows. One of the boxes has a sheet thrown over it, but it’s slipped off, only one corner still shrouded.

From where I’m lashed to the chair, it’s easy enough to make out what’s scrawled on the side.

What the hell? Now I’m hallucinating?

But as hard as I blink, the writing doesn’t change.

BECKS

Chapter 54

Ethan

I drop my car keys on the kitchen counter and bend over the marble surface, my hands sliding into my hair as I let out a frustrated sigh.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

The Balmont Boys are going trying to figure out where Angelo might have taken Cassidy, but since they haven’t called yet, they must be just as stumped as I am.

We don’t even know how the hell he got her out of the office park without someone noticing. A normal person would have called the cops by now, but they’d be more interested in searching the Devil’s Den and interrogating Myles than finding Cassidy.

I straighten, staring around the empty penthouse, my jaw so tight the muscles under my skin twitch.

He had an hour or more lead on us, too. That could mean he’s well outside of the city already.

I slam my fist into the fridge, and stare at the dent in the silver door.

If I stay here a second longer, I’ll destroy this entire fucking penthouse.

Not just because it’s possible Angelo has Cassidy…but because there’s a possibility he doesn’t have her.

And fuck Richmond for bringing that up.

But goddamn it, it could be true.

There’s no way for us to prove that she contacted Angelo. That she met with him. That, if she did, they met at the office park. They definitely didn’t go to his house—Troy went through that entire place with a fine-toothed comb.

Cassidy could just have left.

Like Becks.

Like Cassidy’s own mother.

I turn on my heel, snatching the keys off the counter. I can’t stay here. Not that I have a fucking clue where else to go. Maybe I’ll just go sit in the bar and work my way through a bottle of whiskey.

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