Page 23 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

Unfortunately, my car is downtown at the apartment, so I had to call an Uber to get a ride to Asher’s place. In the back of the car, I check my phone nervously for the time. I know all too well that whoever killed Asher did so because of the lockbox. He didn’t have enemies back home and even if he did, they wouldn’t follow him across the country to do it.

Nick’s father, or someone close to him, ordered the hits on both Asher and me, and I’m going to find out why.

The car pulls into the parking lot of the hotel and before the driver can even put the car in park, I jump out onto the asphalt and apologize to the driver.

The side door of the hotel is unlocked, allowing too-easy access to any would-be criminals. Instead of taking the elevator, I opt to take the stairs. By the time I get to the fourth floor, I’m winded and out of breath, but I push myself not to stop. When I get to his room, I notice that it’s an old-fashioned key lock, instead of a key card lock. Since I don’t have the key, I’ll have to find an alternate way in.

I reach into my purse and grab my driver’s license. It’s not a debit card, but it should do the job even if it’s not as pliable. The first time I broke into someone’s house with a debit card was when I was a young teenager. It was actually my childhood best friend Paige that showed me how to do it. I wedge the ID card into the crack of the door just above where it latches and then hold one hand firmly on the doorknob to stop it from moving. It takes a minute or two, but I’m finally able to force the door open.

The hotel is clean and tidy, which is fitting for a guy like Asher who is used to order. I know I don’t have long before someone else arrives, so I get to work looking for the lockbox. I check each of the dresser drawers first, and then search the barren closet. As I’m making my way to the bathroom, I stop and take a good look at the bed. I drop down onto my knees and check underneath to find it right there. I grab it and drag it out from under, but just as I’m standing up, the door behind bursts open.

I twist on my feet to see an older man with a day’s worth of scruff in his grey beard. He’s dressed in a denim jacket with denim jeans to match. I instantly recognize that he’s the man that’s been following me in the black SUV. Before either of us have time to think, I use the lockbox as a weapon and swing forward, hitting him in the side. I race past him, but he grabs me by the waist and throws me backwards onto the bed. The lockbox lands with a thud against the carpeted floor.

I kick upwards and jump to my feet as he reaches for the gun in his holster. I don’t see much as he thrusts forward, cracking the gun against the top of my head. My eyes go heavy and my vision blurs as I fall to the floor.

The last thing I see before the world stops spinning is the man grabbing the lockbox and running out of the room.

ChapterEleven

NICK

It’s not often that I find myself taking a step back and asking myself,what the fuck is going on here?I tend to find myself taking things for what they are and figuring out the rest from there. An easy example is myrelationshipwith Addison, if it can even be called that. There is absolutely no reason in the world to trust her, but since finding out that she’s pregnant, I’ve had to readjust. Until she gives me a reason not to trust her, I have no choice but to do so.

Something is off here though.

I’m well aware of the strange relationship Addison has with the police, and more specifically running from them. A pattern only becomes a pattern because it continues to happen. She’s innocent in the matter, of course. Anyone at the party can clearly see that she was nowhere near the body when it fell to the ground. Everyone could clearly see the criminal in the ski mask pulled the trigger. If the police, or the detectives who will no doubt be knocking on the door soon enough, notice she’s gone, it’s going to raise a lot of red flags.

Addison seems more than convinced that my father had something to do with this. I’m not quite as convinced. He’s deranged for sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been responsible for sending others to an early grave, but in the middle of a party he’s hosting? He has a lot of power and sway in this city, but that’s not something he could pull off.

I push my way through the crowd that’s gathered in the foyer, seemingly to get away from the body once the novelty has worn off. Who killed the lurker in the courtyard with a gun? These people aren’t used to straight up murder. They’re used to decapitating their enemies with the threat of financial and social ruin. Actual murder and actual blood? Well, that shit is relegated to the movies.

By the time I make my way outside, the sounds of sirens can be heard in the distance. Across the way, standing beside the canopied dining table, my mother is curled up into the arms of my father. I can’t remember the last time I had seen them hold each other in any manner. For her part, she acts the part of being the terrified host of the party that’s turned into an act of murder, but it’s all an act. That man was never welcome in their home. He’s the exact kind of person they keep out of their circles at all costs. He’s the male version of Addison; gutter trash and certainly beneath them.

My father locks eyes with me as I circle around the crime scene, standing on the opposite side of him. To my left, there’s a gathering of guests conversing beside the pool house with equal measures of disbelief and delight in having witnessed what’ll surely be the talk of the town for months on end, even after most have headed back into the city for the long winter.

The wailing of sirens gets closer and closer until the sounds are stabbing my eardrums. I’m not sure what I’m doing out here. A part of me is looking for clarity, I suppose. As if I’m capable of understanding why the man was killed at my parents’ home just by looking at the body. After being shot, he collapsed forward with his head tilted just to the side. There’s a look of horror in his eyes. Lifeless, his face seems to be going pale already.

I dig my phone out of my slacks, swipe my finger across the screen, and check on Addison’s whereabouts. She’s heading downtown, most likely in the back of a taxi. For a moment, I consider that she’s going to our apartment but then she drives right on past it. I think back to the photo my father showed me, the one that seemingly showed the dead boy and Addisonmaybekissing. That’s when I recognize that they’re standing outside of a hotel. I can’t be certain of it, but something tells me she’s heading straight to the hotel he was staying at.

But why?

At the risk of becoming a suspect, I realize that I need to follow Addison, which means I need to get the hell out of dodge before the detectives show up. And I have a lot more to lose than she does, so this might possibly be one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done. I check my surroundings to make sure nobody is watching me–which, of course they aren’t. There’s a damn dead body stealing their attention. I retreat slowly until I slip around the side of the latticed gazebo and make my way to the back fence. Before scaling the side of it, I glance over my shoulder one more time to see my father making direct eye contact with me. We share a brief look before I climb over, landing with a thud on the opposite side.

Even in the broad light of day, the red and blue lights light up the side of my face as I race away from the house and towards the road.

* * *

Addison hasn’t moved an inch. From the looks of it, she’s in a room towards the back of the hotel. I didn’t want my driver knowing where I was going in case of the worst-case scenario. If Addison is hiding something, or up to something, I don’t want to be linked to wherever she is. So, I was forced to take an outrageously expensive taxi. When the car pulls to the front of the hotel, I throw him a hundred-dollar bill and jump out.

I storm through the lobby and make my way to the elevator, selecting the top floor and preparing to work my way down from the top. When the elevator door pulls open, I step out into the hallway. I slowly make my way down the narrow hall while keeping an eye on my phone to make sure Addison doesn’t make any sudden movements. She’s still in the exact same location, and it appears as if I’m closing in on her.

A man rushes out of a room at the end of the hallway, scurrying past me in a frenzy. The hairs on my arm stand on end as I realize something is seriously wrong. It’s a sixth sense of sorts, but in my time on this earth, I’ve learned to trust my gut. I race forward, searching each direction as I make my way to the end of the hall.

And then there’s an open door.

I corner the open door and come to a halt as I step inside to find Addison knocked unconscious, or even dead, on the floor. And then I think back to the man running and notice a detail I glanced over before, that he was carrying a lockbox in his hands. That sorry son of a bitch did this. He could potentially be the same guy that killed that boy, but in the moment, the only thing I can think to do is rush towards Addison’s body.

I drop onto my knees and press two thumbs against the side of her throat to find her pulse beating faintly beneath the surface of my touch. She’s alive. I pull her head into my lap and caress the back of her head and notice a large bump. It could very easily be a concussion. I slap a hand to her cheeks, saying, “Wake up, Addison!”

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