Page 145 of Unorthodox
I had my house searched for bugs, and none were found.
Which means that whatever Luca knows about Addison, he learned from someone in these walls.
Whoever it is better hope they’re already dead, or they’re going to wish they were.
But I can’t resist asking, just in case, “Who did Luca speak to, inside my own house?”
There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. I lean back against my pillows and close my eyes, grimacing as I move my shoulder just slightly.
“That’s your own personal matter to deal with, Max. I don’t know a thing about that.”
I grit my teeth, say nothing.
“Sorry you got roughed up down south, but Zeke was a good employee. Should’ve kept him alive, Max. But you should know, if I don’t get the girl, it’s not just your brother I’ll hurt. It’s you.”
I force that icy mask of calm over my mind, protecting me from thoughts of Oliver’s screams. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I say lazily.
Jameson barks out a laugh, then grows quiet for a moment before he says, “I heard you didn’t scream once, Max. I could change that, you know.”
“I’m truly terrified.”
There’s a pause on the line and I shift my hold on the phone, trying to get comfortable.
Then I hear it.
A string of sounds that I’d recognize anywhere, through a phone from hundreds of miles away or not.
Oliver.
I sit upright, ignoring the burning pain from the bullet wound. My hand is gripping the phone so tightly, my palm starts sweating. I stare at the thick, grey comforter on my bed, squeezing my eyes closed tight.
“If you don’t do as I ask, if you fuck this up, Max Bennett, I’ll kill him, and you’ll hear every painful second of his death.”
I mouth my brother’s name, but don’t dare speak it aloud. The soft sounds die off, and I can breathe again. But I can still hear it, in my head…his screams.
There’s a knock on the door, across the room from the bed. It’s locked, and no one in this house has a key.
I open my eyes, stare at the door, but I don’t move.
Jameson starts to speak again. “I’ll be sending you a message. Avisualreminder of what happens to people who fuck with me.” He laughs softly. “Don’t fuck this up.” He ends the call before I can say a word.
There’s another knock on the door as I clench my phone in my fist, gritting my teeth.
“Max, it’s me.” Addison’s voice.
I push thoughts of Jameson aside, his cryptic warning. If he hurts Oliver, he knows the deal is off. Whatever he’s planning to “send” me, it won’t be that.
Don’t be that.
I compartmentalize it, focus on the immediate problem here.
Someone in this house told Luca about Addison. His men were waiting forhimlast night, and he shit his pants at the last minute, not quite brave enough to shoot me before I got to him. He distracted me with news on Danik, tried to get me to run, as if he didn’t know me at all.
But no matter Luca’s fuck up, someone else is lying to me, too.
I get off the bed, setting my phone down on the nightstand as I cross the room to get the door. My eyes land on the low, marbled table set against the wall of windows, my dark curtains pulled closed.
There’re two decanters of rum, clean glasses stacked beside them.
