Page 102 of Wicked Games

Shit.

“Where did you get this?” I repeat.

“I don’t know.”

She’s not the mermaid type. Someone must’ve given it to her.

“I don’t recognize it,” she says. “Where’d you find it?”

“On your bookshelf.” I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Years of therapy didn’t do shit—except teach me how to breathe like a lunatic. Acalmlunatic. I’m going to find this stalker and beat the living shit out of him.

It has to be a guy. Watching her in her bedroom?

Watching herchange?Or have sex?

Hell,Ifeel violated, and I’m only here in the dark.

She just stares at me, so I toss her the phone. She reads the single message, and her lips twist. I resume my inspection of the mermaid. It seems fully encased, which makes me think I’d have to break it open to get anywhere.

I grab one of my socks from the floor and drop the mermaid in, then twist and wrap the excess around until there’s no way it can see out.

Does it have audio, too?

I stuff it into my bag and plant a kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you at school.”

Once I’m dressed, I go out the window, down the side of the house. I jog across the lawn and down the street to my car. I know someone who might be able to figure this out for me.

I leave the wrapped mermaid in my car and stay outside. I lean my hip on the closed car door to make the phone call.

“Bit early, Caleb.”

“I found something weird,” I tell him. “Mind if I stop over?”

Pause. Then, “Fine.”

I hang up. He’d never voice the million questions he wants to ask over the phone. I drive in silence, not even playing music. Who knows what’s inside that thing? Does it have GPS tracking?

The way I’m regarding it like a bomb is a little ridiculous. I blow out a slow breath and shake out my nerves.

Finally, I pull up to a mansion’s front entrance. The gate swings open ahead of me, and I park off to the side.

Matt Bonner, Lion’s Head’s star hockey player, meets me at the front door. He’s still in his sleep clothes, and he scowls at me.

“This—”

I hold up my hand, silencing him, and he waves me in. Once we’re in his room, I hand him the sock.

He takes it from me, wrinkling his nose, and shakes out the mermaid.

His eyes light up, and he gets to work.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, while he examines it. It takes a lot not to hover, but he’d probably punch me for it.

Matt and I became friends in middle school. His parents were going through a nasty divorce, and he was put at Emery-Rose’s middle school for a year while custody agreements were sorted out. He fell in with me and Eli. We hadn’t yet met Liam or Theo yet.

His dad owns a cyber security firm, and Matt either picked up the skill through genetics, osmosis, or some weird idea that he had to be good at computers to impress his dad. Who knows. Either way, it came in handy to track Margo down.

He was doing deep-dive searches while the rest of us were learning how to swim. How else was I supposed to find her?

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