Page 140 of Dirty Damage

One ring.

Two.

Three.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Drew growls. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days! Where the hell have you?—”

“Where’s Sydney?” I interrupt.

“Oh, now, you care about her?”

He laughs, masking his anger like he cares about Sydney’s safety. But I recognize the undertone of jealousy.

He knows where I’ve been.

And with whom.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. It’s been a busy few days.” My voice comes out steady despite the way my pulse races.

Three floors down, Oleg is probably doing his first set of bench presses, completely unaware that I’m up here talking to the man he wants to destroy.

I pace to the window, scanning the grounds below like Oleg might materialize at any second. “Where’s Sydney?”

“Fuck that. Tell me where you?—”

A female voice cuts through in the background, high and demanding.

Relief washes over me.Sydney’s okay. She’s alive.

There’s a brief tussle while they fight for the phone, then?—

“Sutton?” Sydney is breathless.

My knees give out and I sink onto the bed. I’m holding the phone so tightly I think it’ll snap. “Syd? Are you okay?”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

“Where are you?”

“California.” She hesitates. “Drew brought me here for a few weeks.”

“That was… nice of him.”

I’m hesitant to give Drew anything even resembling credit, but if he got my sister away from Paul, I’m willing to make an exception.

“Not really. Paul made him. Apparently, he couldn’t bear the sight of me anymore.”

The words hang there as the picture expands in front of me. I grip the phone tighter, nails digging into plastic. “Paul kicked you out?”

“He didn’t kick me out exactly.” The denial comes quick, practiced. “He just wanted a… a breather. Some alone time. It was my fault, really. I keep picking fights. I just can’t control myself sometimes.”

My sister. My beautiful, broken sister, making excuses for a monster.

Again.

“Is he with another woman right now?” I spit the question, imagining it’s right in Paul’s eye. “What did he do?”

The silence on the other end of the line deepens and deepens, long enough I think the call might have dropped.

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