Page 51 of Ruthless Intent

“Do you want hashbrowns or cubed potatoes with the special, honey?”

“Hashbrowns, please.”

“You got it.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows how I take my coffee, but I am, and I need to know whether it was a guess or something else.

“What if I didn’t want coffee?”

“What you want isn’t important any longer. We’ve established that.”

“How do you know I even like coffee?”

He snorts. “You need at least two cups of coffee before you make sense in the mornings. Once your day begins, you swap to tea or lemonade. In the evening, especially during winter months, you like to have a hot chocolate before bedtime.” He arches an eyebrow. “How am I doing?”

“How do you know that?”

“I had someone go and interview the people you live with yesterday.”

“What?”

His smile is little more than a slight twitch of his lips. “Using Truman instead of Trumont was clever. Close enough to your real name to make it easy to react to if you forgot you’d changed it. And different enough to make it harder to track. Anyone would think you were really trying to hide.”

“What did they tell you?”

He doesn’t reply, just sits there looking at me, that half-smile on his face. I take out my cell, and find Karla’s number. Zain says nothing. Doesn’t ask who I’m calling, doesn’t tell me to stop. Just sits there, watching me.

“What? Oh my god, why are you calling so early?” Karla’s voice is sleepy and slurred.

“It’s me.”

“Oh! Ashley? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Did you speak to someone about me yesterday?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I’d remember if someone asked me about you. Why?”

I sigh, and I swear Zain’s smile grows wider.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Are you okay?” She repeats her question.

“Yeah. It’s … complicated. I’ll call you later and explain.” I cut the call before she can say anything more. Unsurprisingly, a text comes through seconds later.

Karla: What’s going on? Do you want us to drive to Whitstone and rescue you?

Me: No, it’s fine. I promise. I’ll call you later.

“No one spoke to them.”

“I said I sent someone. I didn’t say they were successful.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper. “You knew she was going to say no one spoke to her. And you still let me call? Why? Why would you do that?”

---