Page 81 of Oliver

Well, that explains what Matt said, but how can I trust anything when I’m constantly being barraged by new fucking information I should have been told to begin with?

“Why?” I ask.

“Because…I don’t know. It was easier to keep out of it.”

Narrowing my eyes, I study her expression. Does she not see how fucking suspicious it is that they didn’t just call the fucking cops?

“Whose idea, was it?” I ask.

“Ramsay’s.”

Turning away, I eye the driveway stonily. Of course, it was. The Sinners always have something up their sleeve. Was it innocent? Or something worse?

What happened to fucking Matt? Was it Ramsay? Am I staying with fucking killers? Stupid question, Willow already admitted she killed Frank McCafferty.

Gah.

“Look,” she says, “I know it seems strange, but I know they didn’t do it. Just as I know they didn’t kill my sister.”

Her whispered words send a shard of pain through my chest and with a bitter smile, I say, “My sister wasn’t killed by the Lucky Charm killer.”

“No, but someone wants you to think they did. Why?”

“I guess that’s the million-dollar question,” I mumble, opening the door when the rideshare arrives.

Once I’m inside, I go to close the door, but Willow grabs it and slides in next to me, forcing me to move over.

“What are you doing?” I rasp and she shrugs.

“I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 25

Penny

I seethe the entire ride, completely sure that this is some ploy to watch me but once we arrive at Fight Club, I let it go.

It doesn’t really matter. It seems they always know what I’m doing anyway.

The place is hopping when we slip inside. Two dudes are duking it out in the ring. One of whom I recognize from before. I think his name is Rogue.

He dances around with a smile while his opponent looks on with a fierce glare. For some reason, the sight makes me smile and I shake my head. I guess I’m not the only crazy fucker.

Since we’re alone and this may be the only chance to ask, I grab Willow’s arm and pull her to the side.

She raises a brow and I shrug and say, “Is Frank really gone?”

Her eyes glaze a bit, but she nods. “He’s definitely gone.”

Exhaling, I mumble, “None of this makes fucking sense.”

“I know. I would’ve penned it on one of those three but now there’s a fourth?”

“Three? Like Mr. G, Frank and…”

“Ramsay’s dad,” she says with a twist to her lips.

“Hm. So maybe we should be looking for the connection between them?” I’m thinking out loud but when her eyes widen, I wonder what she’s thinking.

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