Page 21 of Web of Lies
I pause. "You're sick." And I mean it. Sure, I slipped a tracker into Riley's wallet without her knowing, and perhaps what I'm doing is worse. After all, Evelyn knows about the tracker in her implant. But when I think back to what he did two years ago after meeting Evelyn, my actions seem tame in comparison. He did the same thing I'm doing right now, only his motive was pure control. Mine's different. I want to keep Riley safe. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.
"I know," he says, not a hint of shame in his voice.
"Have you at least got a tracker on you too?" I ask.
"Of course."
My eyebrows shoot up. "Where?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.
"In my thigh."
"Oh?" I lean closer and slide my hand over his thigh, squeezing his muscles closer to his crotch than necessary, well aware that I won't feel much through his protective pants.
"Stop that," he curses, delivering a sharp kick to my knee protector. I throw my head back and laugh. "Instead of feeling me up, how about you tell me what you're really here for?"
"Relax. It's a coincidence. I just happened to spot Evelyn and got curious. That's it."
Noah hums, clearly unconvinced, as he turns to where Evelyn and Riley are sitting, sipping on their drinks and chatting.
"Or are you stalking Riley?" Noah's voice drips with smugness, and I don't need to see his face to know what his expression looks like: eyebrows raised in that condescending, know-it-all way he's perfected.
"That's the name of the girl she's with?" I ask, deadpan.
"Yes, you've met her before. Since when has your memory been this bad? I figured she was your type. Are you okay? You rarely forget the names of women."
"Let's say that when I met her, I had other things on my mind than getting someone into my bed."
"Well, there's a rare spark of truth in your words."
It's the truth after all. Last year, Noah's life was hanging by a thread, and if he had died, it would have been my fault. At that time, my priority was to fill the role of a caretaker with Evelyn and ensure that he made it through. Still, that didn't stop me from snatching Evelyn's phone when she wasn't looking and saving Riley's number. Prop to me, I didn't reach out until I was back in New York, though. Being in Evelyn's line of fire if Riley found my move creepy would not have been worth it. But, luckyme, she wasn't creeped out. Turns out, she was impressed and more than willing to meet upandhook up.
"Then you won't have a problem getting out of here, will you?" Noah's voice is calm, but there's a note of suspicion in it.
"No," I say, stealing one last glance at Evelyn and Riley. "Let's go before Evelyn notices you."
"It's already too late," Noah says as he removes his phone from its mount and holds it out to me. On the screen is his chat with Evelyn, along with a message she sent a couple of seconds ago.
Dove:You two...whatare you doing here?!
"Fuck," I bark out a laugh, twist the key, and the engine roars beneath me. "Let's go."
We're sitting in a quiet corner of the lounge. Dim light casts soft shadows across the leather couches. The air is thick with the smell of tobacco. In the background, the hum of jazz music, quiet conversation, and clinking glasses echoes. Moments like this with Noah are rare nowadays. It used to be our ritual: finish a job, clean up, and then sit together afterward over a drink, like nothing had happened. Sitting here now, it almost feels like slipping into an old habit I didn’t realize I missed.
I lower my cigarette from my lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke before taking a slow sip of my whiskey. Across from me, Noah sits with a cigarette balanced between his lips, his attention fixed on his phone as he texts Evelyn to let her know we're already at the lounge. After a moment, he sets it down, leans forward, removes his cigarette from his lips, and flicks a curl of dead ash into the ashtray on the table.
"Now, do you mind telling me where you found those documents you sent me?" Noah asks, his voice low but edged with suspicion. "The way they were highlighted makes this a lot more serious."
I take a slow drag from my cigarette and exhale through my nose. "It's not important where I got them." He narrows his eye at me. "What matters is, did you find anything? Traces, connections, something?"
He shakes his head once. "No."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, everything leads to dead ends. Exactly the way the Butcher wants it." He pauses and takes a sip of his drink. "I even made a few calls. Nothing. There's not a single crumb."
I hum in response, a sense of relief settling in my chest. That's good, because it means Riley is still far from actually finding the Butcher. The last thing I want is for her to get too close and end up in danger before I've come up with a plan to stop her or get her out in case she is found out.
"But wherever you found those documents. Whoever had them. They're doing a good job."
