Page 31 of Stars and Scars

Grayson unceremoniously heads out the door. I put my hands on my hips and sigh. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

He doesn’t stay gone long. I assume just long enough to end the conversation about his sister. I wonder how she died? I have to assume he feels at least somewhat responsible. Maybe she had an accident and he feels he wasn’t there for her? Or is it something more sinister.

Regardless, I put a cork in my bottle of curiosity and don’t ask any questions when Grayson returns. Not about his sister, at least.

“Hey, Grayson, are you hungry?”

He seems taken aback by the question. After a long moment, he nods.

“Yeah. Ravenous, now that you mention it.”

“This hotel has a pretty nice restaurant. You want to grab a bite to eat before we continue on?”

His phone rings, and he holds up a finger.

“Hold that thought.”

Grayson puts the phone on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Grayson?”

I don’t recognize the woman with the breathy, soft, and sensual voice on the other end of the line, and I don’t think he does, either.

“Who wants to know?”

Laughter emanates from the speaker.

“Harlowe Vaugn. I also work for Platinum Security. We’ve actually met before, but maybe you’ll remember me after this time.”

“Right. Harlowe, sorry.”

He knuckles his forehead before continuing.

“What’s the good word, Harlowe?”

“I’ve been trying to backtrack the Order ever since they hacked into Charlotte’s live stream. They’re really good at covering their tracks, but I did manage to find something out.”

“Please tell me it’s the name and address of the leader of the cult?” I interject.

Harlowe laughs again.

“I like her. No, unfortunately, I don’t have anything that specific. What I do have is the IP address where the Order originated the attack.”

My heart skips a beat. “Omg, you’re a genius!”

“Isn’t that the same thing as finding out the name and address of the cult members?” Grayson asks.

“Not in this case, Grayson. The address is one of the biggest mansions in LA, and the guy who owns it is Wyatt Summers.”

Grayson scowls deeply. “You say that like it’s someone I’m supposed to know.”

“Wyatt Summers? Won the Cinematography Oscar in 1988 forUnhinged Melody? Wannabe philanthropist, artist, and all around weirdo?”

Grayson shakes his head. “It doesn’t ring any bells. Why is it such an issue? If Wyatt let the cult into his house, of course he’s involved with them.”

“Not necessarily,” I say, drawing his gaze.

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