Page 63 of Stealing His Cupcake
My knuckles whiten as I tighten my grip on my phone, squeezing it as if it were the bastard’s neck. I need to find Nolan. Quickly. Once I do, I’ll take my time killing him, not because he dared to attack me or my house, but because he put Amy in danger, and it doesn’t matter that his plan was stupid and poorly thought-through. The simple fact that he showed up here with several bottles of what he no doubt thought were Molotov cocktails means Nolan has signed his death sentence. Idiot or not, kid or not, the fucker’s gotta go.
Leaving Nolan’s bag of badly made Molotovs by the garage door, I dial my regular hacker. He picks up on the second ring, slightly sleepy but aware enough not to curse me out for waking him before dawn. “I need you to find Nolan Greyson,” I say, skipping all the niceties, grateful I remembered the bastard’s last name. “He’s seventeen or eighteen. A richkid. Pretentious, arrogant. Lanky. Bad acne. A wannabe criminal who goes by the name of Shade.”
“Uh-huh.” The hacker pauses and I hope to god he’s taking notes because I’m not about to repeat myself. “Do you have a photo?”
“No, I don’t have a fucking photo. But he’s an idiot. I bet he has a fucking Instagram page where he poses with his golden gun or something equally stupid. I want to know where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s with. The second he shows up somewhere, I want to know. If he posts, texts his mother, crosses the border, boards a plane or buys a fucking bubblegum, I want to know, is that clear? I’ll pay you double the usual.” Since even his regular rate is more than generous, this should ensure he takes the assignment seriously.
“Whoa, mate, that’s a lot of money.”
It’s really not for me, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah, and I expect value for it, so get to work. Send me anything you deem important, but especially his current whereabouts. And fucking hurry.”
I hang up before he can reply, too wired to keep even a pretense of a polite conversation. Looking at the front door, I scoff. There’s almost no damage, the fire already nearly out. Still, I open it to grab the fire extinguisher Amy prepared and spray it over the last remnants of the flames. What a half-assed-—no, quarter-assed—plan. He didn’t even get the cocktail composition right. Not that it would help as the walls are coated with fire-retardant paint, but still. Is this Nolan showing effort? Pathetic.
At least he was wearing a bulletproof vest, I’ll give him that one. Otherwise, he’d be dead already.
“Everything okay?” Amy asks from inside the house.
The lights are out so I can’t see her, but she doesn’t sound frightened like I would have expected. Her voice is steady, with no trace of fear or hysterics. I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am that she kept a level head. She didn’t rush out in a misguided attempt at helping me, didn’t show herself when the door caught fire. She isn’t crying or freakingout. I’m pretty fucking proud of her. Few people can stay this calm when there’s someone trying to set their house on fire. It’s probably going to hit her later but right now, she’s handling it like a pro.
“Everything is fine,” I tell her. “Stay—”
“Inside. Yeah, I heard you the first fifty times. I don’t suppose we can open some windows to let this smoke out? And is it safe to turn on the lights yet?”
She kept the lights off on purpose. What a brilliant mind my cupcake has, realizing there’s nothing easier than to take aim at a person standing in a brightly lit room. “Keep the lights off.” The windows are bulletproof but I still don’t want Nolan watching us. “You can open the vent windows in the kitchen, but keep the rest closed. We’ll air out the house in the morning.” When I can see who’s moving around the house instead of relying solely on the perimeter sensors.
“‘kay,” Amy replies easily.
As soon as I make sure the door or of the surrounding area won’t catch on fire again, I join Amy in the kitchen. Thankfully, the smoke didn’t get inside until I opened the door, so there’s not much of it lingering. My cooking accident, back when I got really into a workout down in the basement and forgot I had a stew on the stove, had much worse results.
My heart pounds as I pull Amy against me, running my hands all over her body to make sure she isn’t harmed. I expect her to belatedly realize what danger she was in and break apart in my arms but instead, it’s me who’s being hit by the fact that she could have died. She could havediedtonight. I could have lost her. Nolan had a gun. If she ran outside…
“Hey,” she soothes. “I’m fine. Everything is okay.”
After everything I put her through, she’s the one comforting me. How fucking ironic. “You could have died.” The smoke situation must be worse than I thought because now my eyes are filling with tears. “I could have lost you. I can’t lose you.”
“You will not lose me, Wyatt. I stayed inside, stayed safe, just like you asked.”
She did. She stayed safe. She’s even wearing her vest and, fuck, I don’t think there’s anything hotter than Amy in her pajamas wearing a bulletproof vest. I just wished she put it on for a kinky roleplaying fantasy and not because she was actually in danger. “You were amazing.”
“Pfft. I just sat inside and watched. You were the one risking his life to stop that bastard. What’s his problem, anyway?”
“He’s a stupid kid,” I reply with a sigh, trying to focus on the fact that Amy is here, safe in my arms, and not on what could have been. “Apparently, I’ve been his role model for years.”
Amy snorts and I join her. “Yeah, that was exactly my reaction,” I say. “He asked me to mentor him. I told him to rethink his life choices. It looks like he took it personally.”
“But if he’s just a kid…”
“Trust me, Amy, he’s not ‘just a kid’. He killed at least a dozen people to send me a message made of their organs.” I hate sharing this with her, but I’d hate it more if she thought I’m a child killer. “I don’t kill kids but Nolan is dangerous. He needs to be taken care of.”
Her shoulders slump as she sighs. “I guess so. It’s not like you can just have him locked in a mental hospital. He’d probably kill everyone there, not to mention he knows who you are and where you live.”
“Exactly.” I’m thankful she sees the reason in my choice. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you leaving right now?”
Leaving. I’ll have to leave her when I go hunt Nolan. My poor heart skips a beat at the thought. Leaving Amy alone is the second-worst thing I can imagine, trumped only by the thought of her getting hurt, but bringing her would be even more dangerous. She’s safer here, inside the house I built like a fortress. As long as she stays, she should be safe, and hasn’t she just proven she can handle danger?
It’s all very logical and still, I hate it. Fortunately, I don’t have to think about leaving Amy just yet. “No. I don’t know where Nolan is right now, but once I get his location, I’ll have to move fast.”
