Page 62 of Corrupting Ivy

“Hear what?”

“They caught the serial killer.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “They did?” I asked, sticking my nose in the conversation.

“Yeah, just tonight.”

“Who was it?” Her friend and I said in unison.

“Otis. They arrested him right here in the parking lot after the fight.”

“Remy,” I said, callingher name just as she entered the stockroom, leaving Jake alone at the bar.

She paused, looked at me, then continued her path through the door. She’s had a chip on her shoulder ever since she caught Ivy and me in the stockroom. I followed her through, then watched as she grabbed paper towels and dishwasher soap from the shelf.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m all ears.”

“My friend, he’s in town, but he doesn’t have a place to stay. Can he take the bed?”

She huffed, her hands full of supplies. “And you? Where are you supposed to sleep?”

“I’ll talk to Ivy.”

Remy rolled her eyes. “Do you trust him?”

“He wouldn’t be my friend if I didn’t.”

She nodded. “Alright. But he’s your responsibility.”

Relying on the hospitality of others wasn’t something I especially enjoyed doing. I could buy this entire town if I wanted, but here I was, couch-surfing. “Thanks.” She brushed past me. “Remy.”

“Yeah?”

“What did you say to Ivy?”

“Nothing that wasn’t the truth.” She walked away, leaving me vibrating. This meddling in my affairs thing was getting to be too much, and I was tired of it.

I went and sat next to Jake, then slid him the bar key across the bar top. “You can have the room in the back.”

“I’m good. I’ll sleep in the hotel next town over.”

“You won’t find any rooms. A bunch of tourists and journalists filled it because of this serial killer matter.”

“Hmm. Fine.” He snarled, then put the key in his pocket.

“You have that phone I asked you to send, not hand-deliver?”

After Ivy told me about the games her stalker liked to play with her, I called Jake and asked for my second favor—a cell phone with tracking software. The girl needed some way for me to get a hold of her.

“Yup. Are you going to give me the scoop on this, or do I need to pry it out of ya in the ring?”

Jake likes to think he can get the better of me because it’s happened one time. But that was it—one time, and it hadn’t happened since.

I scoffed. “I’m sure it’ll come out.”

Jake tucked his hands into his pocket and pulled out the burner phone.

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