Page 50 of Only the Wicked
Am I jumping the gun? She knows you live on the West Coast.
“Dude, lighten up.” Miles’ voice rings loudly in my head.
Yeah, why the fuck am I second-guessing now?
A thread of an unsettling notion surfaces, but I can’t grasp the elusive thought. I locate my socks and shirt, searching my brain. What was it?
The satellite comment. She said she didn’t search your name online, yet she asked about satellites. Because you discussed finding this location. Right. That’s all it is.
“Is it time to go?”
Jesus, I need to take a photograph of her.
“We’ve got a five-mile hike back to the car. It’s getting hotter by the second.” A hunger pang throbs. “We can grab lunch. Then check out of the hotel.”
“Fine,” she grumbles, but she’s smiling. She strides to her clothes, and yes, I watch her every step.
“We don’t have to go to Asheville.” The place we’re staying is highly rated. She might not want to leave. Might even have spa appointments scheduled. “We can play it by ear,” I offer.
“It’s past check out time now,” she says.
I mean, she’s right, but I don’t care about paying for an extra night. It’s only money. Can’t be buried with it.
“Whatever you want,” I say, because it is up to her. She may not join me in D.C., but until Friday, I’m staying with Sydney.
As I load the backpack and she rolls on her socks and hiking boots, I check my phone. I shouldn’t—vacation and all—but habits die hard.
* * *
Miles
Bids being placed for Forbes’ database. Let’s bid.
Me
Need to evaluate. Let’s discuss next week.
* * *
Daisy Jonas
CM
Call me. Hmm. What does Daisy need?
* * *
Me
TXT
* * *
Nana Libby
Does 1 still work?
Shit. I check the time.
