Page 101 of Cruel Hearts

Fuck.

Douglas parks near the lobby’s entrance. The car sticks out in the empty parking lot, and if Ash is tracking me, he’ll know exactly where I am. Maybe I’m paranoid thinking Ash is watching my every move, but it won’t be long before he hears the news of Stella’s death. He may already know, and I need to be careful.

I can say I’m hiding here, avoiding the press, but the less I say to anyone, the safer we all are.

In the Presidential Suite, Max, Nathalie, Denton, and Quinn are watching live coverage of Stella’s death onTruth or Dare’s website streaming on Max’s laptop. Zarah and Ingrid aren’t here, and I hope they’re sleeping. This is something I’ll need to explain to my sister, alone, in private.

Paulo’s sipping a drink, carelessly leaning against the bar. I can’t stop myself, and I go at him in a grief-filled rage. The glass flies out of his hand, spraying scotch onto the carpet. I pin him against the wall, my hands around his throat. He kicks at me, trying to swear and catch his breath at the same time.

Suddenly, it’s all too much, and I release him and sink to my knees.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Denton asks, rising off the loveseat.

“Stella’s dead. Paulo shot her.” I can’t meet anyone’s eyes. This was my plan, and her death is my fault.

“What the fuck, man?” he shouts, backing away from me, his hands in the air. “I did what I was supposed to do.”

I look at him. “I don’t believe you. You shot her, and she’s dead. How much did Ashton Black pay you to kill her?”

Paulo turns white and doesn’t utter another word.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Stella

Mel pats my cheeks muttering, “I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen.”

The overhead light is too bright, and I squeeze my eyes closed. I don’t want to wake up. I want the darkness to pull me under again because holy Jesus Christ, do I hurt.

“Stella? Are you with me? Come on, sweetheart.”

I can barely lift my arms, but I try to bat her away. “Leave me alone.”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t. We need you up and moving.”

Sitting up is the very last thing I want to do, but then I think of Zane. I need to know if he meant what he said at the restaurant. The echo of his words bounces around my head, and they hurt more than the bullet.

“Paulo shot me,” I mumble, weakly trying to push Mel’s hands away from my face.

“No, he didn’t. I was right all along. I knew Ash would use the opportunity to shut your mouth for good. Zane’sfreaking out.Paulo’s on the street looking for anything he can find. A shell casing, a coffee cup. Anything.”

“Can you turn the light off?” My lips are stiff and my mouth’s dry. It’s too much information. I can’t think past the ache in my ribs that radiates through my torso down to my very fingertips.

The overhead light blinks out, but a glow from the hallway still wavers in from underneath the door. Mel stands near me, her dark hair frizzing in the humidity, a curly riot around her head. The junkie nurse hovers, wringing her hands.

I’m lying on an exam table, the hard cushion like cement, the paper tissue crinkling as I shift.

“Let me help you sit up,” Mel says.

She shoves her hand between the cushion and my back, forcing me upright. My head throbs and my stomach churns.

The scarf is twisted and wrapped around my neck, and Mel unties it and tugs the gauzy material away from my throat. It helps me feel not so claustrophobic. I drag in a deep breath and fire burns through my ribs.

“Did you see anything?” Mel asks, unzipping my dress and moving the neckline down my arm.

The body armor that saved my life is crusted to my skin, the empty blood pouch crumpled between the tank top and my body.

The nurse wets a fistful of paper napkins and hands them to Mel. Gently, she wipes me off and peels the tape and plastic from my itchy skin.

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