Page 83 of Fighter
“Yeah?”
“C'mere. You and I need to do some work together.”
Her head popped around the corner with a curious expression. “On what?”
I grinned.
“On getting Serafina back.”
28
Serafina
My throat tightened as I looked over the mess for the tenth time.
The loft looked like a tornado had ripped through it. Stuffing torn out of the couch. Clothes shredded and thrown on the floor. Plates smashed. Glasses flung across the wall, indenting the drywall. A giant spider web crack crossed the second-hand television set Mom had found.
I had no way to prove it, but everything inside me knew this had been Amber.
A deep, welling frustration lived in my center now. It drove my thoughts, pushing me to the point of fury, and then despair. Why did bad things happen in groups? Why couldn't heartbreak catch a break just once? What was that saying? Bad things come in threes?
Well, I was on seven, thanks.
You can stop now, universe,I thought.
The sound of feet on the stairs came behind me. I glanced back to see Maverick ascending, his large body at odds with the small, spiral steps. Bethany walked just behind him, swamped by his broad shoulders. They both wore grave expressions when I nudged the door to the loft wider for them to see it.
Bethany gasped. Maverick frowned.
“Hernandez said he's on his way,” I said. “I'm so sorry. I feel like this is my fault somehow.”
Bethany put a reassuring hand on my shoulder with a smile. “I'm just glad you're safe, Serafina. Things can be replaced. We have insurance for a reason. We tend to use it quite a bit these days,” she added drily, with a smile aimed at Maverick.
Maverick's jaw remained tight as he stepped into the room. The troubled expression didn't clear from Bethany's face. She wore her hair down, but styled, elegantly at odds with her simple yoga pants and t-shirt today. Normally, I saw her as the high-end real estate agent, not this casual version.
Ellie already leaned against the doorway, her forehead grooved into a frown. She hadn't come inside, but she hadn't left me alone after I ran downstairs and asked her to call Maverick. Whoever had done this did it in the middle of the day, during the twenty minutes when Ellie was on a quick lunch break and the shop closed for a bit. They must have been watching and waiting, but Ellie hadn't seen anyone loitering.
For this level of destruction, they had been fast.
“Wow.” Maverick whistled low as he stepped farther into the room. I'd already done a slow walk around. A gentle tour where I hadn't touched anything and attempted to comprehend exactly what happened. Thanks to all my travels, I didn't feel particularly attached to any sort of belonging. All of this furniture had been mostly new, not yet mine. The thought that I didn't care about the stuff crossed my mind. The invasion of privacy was disturbing, but not truly terrifying. The thought of this happening at Ben's house, however, made me sick to my stomach.
The message there was clear: thiswasn'tmy home. Moving on was the right thing, no matter how painful.
Even if Ben's house felt more like home than here.
“Was anything taken?” Maverick asked.
“Not that I can tell. I don't keep any cash here, and my wallet was with me in my backpack, thank heavens. There really isn't much that I own, so I don't have a lot she could steal.”
“She?” Bethany asked.
I pulled in a deep breath. “I think I know who did it,” I admitted reluctantly, the pull and tug of guilt fresh with each word. “Amber, my brother's ex-girlfriend.”
His drug dealer,I thought, but didn't add.
Maverick strode past the kitchen, glass grinding under his shoes. Bethany hung back, near us, as flashing blue and red lights came into the parking lot below. She let out a sigh of relief.
“Jayson is here,” she murmured.
