Page 18 of Carved Obsession
“I was interrupted,” I offer. “Her name is Scarlet Brasa-Glass. She moved to Queenscove about five months ago. Her father and stepmother already lived here, in an estate at the edge of town. They own a jewelry store, where I just came from. I haven’t found anything else on them. They’re...quiet.”
Vincent narrows his eyes a fraction. I share the clear sentiment from those dark pits. I have not found one single thing wrong with this family in my research, though it was brief. I’m not saying there aren’t good families out there, but this is Queenscove.
“She’s going through a divorce that started six months ago,” I add.
“Interesting timing,” Finnigan interrupts. “I wonder what prompted it.” No one misses the sly grin wrinkling his eyes.
That’s not what I wonder at all. What I think about is why was she out, all alone that night? She was burning up with reckless energy and it was painted all over her soft face. Was this why? The divorce? What upset her? Was it her soon-to-be ex? Why is she divorcing him?
Stop.
So many questions run rampant in my brain, almost punishing me, since lacking explanations is not a state I’m used to. Or care to get accustomed to, either.
“The soon-to-be ex-husband is part of the Camora family, in Bonray. Where they used to live together,” I continue.
Finnigan rubs the scruff on his chin. “The name rings a bell.”
“Loan sharks. Small organization, but it’s not the poor they deal with.” Which makes me question the Brasa-Glass family’s morality, regardless of what I havenotfound on them.
“Bonray is only an hour and a half away,” Maddox acknowledges. “She could have gone straight back home after she saw you, and that’s why you couldn’t find her.”
“Precisely. Her family seems to keep to themselves. She could have hidden with them, too. Regardless, she lives here now.”
“Since a few months ago. Yet you never ran into her until today.”
“She knows who I am.” I shake my head once, drawing a deep breath through gritted teeth. “She’s known this whole time.”
Vincent leans back on the sofa, the firm look in his black eyes the exact one I was trying to avoid. “What I find interesting is that she lived far enough away to be off your radar, and yet...she chose to move here. Where you are. Where you can find her.” He says that last sentence with a sigh. “Strange, don’t you think?”
I don’t answer, because I’m still trying to unravel that particular puzzle. From our brief conversation, I understood that she believed I had no reason to kill her.
“Is she a threat?” Finnigan’s tone turns darker.
I ponder for a moment, remembering her words that were strangely charged with sincerity and a demure attitude toward murder.
“I don’t believe so, but I could be wrong. Vincent could be a better judge of character. However, the idea of turning me in and stopping our previous mission seemed almost preposterous to her. And murder didn’t faze her.”
“Very interesting.” Vincent narrows his eyes, pondering.
Exactly.And my initial background check on her and her family showed zero suspicious activity, no questionable past. Nothing to indicate that there’s a reason why this strange woman is so utterly unmoved by the events of that night. It doesn’t add up one bit.
“What do you want to do?” he asks.
Hunt her down. Tie her up. Question her. Kill her. Or...keep her. Play with her. Make her weep on my cock until she reveals all her secrets.
“I’m undecided.”
“But you already attempted to eliminate her?” Finnigan asks.
“Dagger to the throat, yes.”
“And how did she react to that?” he says.
I sigh, blowing out a slow, heavy breath. “Eerily calm with the blade to her throat, but pissed off when I started slicing.”
Ravenousmight be a better word for the look in her eyes. The main reason why I want to delay her death is because I have to know what it means. Does she act on it? Will she reveal her true colors?
Finnigan snorts. “Almost like someone else I know.”
