Page 3 of Iris' Lying Eyes

“Always good to have people in high places.”

“Fuckers like him have no loyalty,” Hunter grunts.

“When the time is right, we’ll squeeze him. He’ll be our bitch then.”

Is he crazy? A senator’s daughter?

“Did you find the child?” John asks.

My limbs seize, and I slap my hand over my mouth, muffling my gasp. No!

“Not yet. It’s been a year,” Hunter sighs.

Wait, a year? Who are they talking about?

“I don’t care. Find her.”

Oh. Oh shit. It’s a horrible notion but I pray they’re talking about one of their victims. Please god, let it be as simple as that.

Hunter grunts, and I crawl through the house back to the bed, where I feign sleep when John’s footsteps echo down the hall.

Thankfully, he leaves me alone, but I sweat through my fear for hours while staring at the ceiling. Has he figured out what happened to Sam? What does he mean byher?

Chapter Two

I lie around, as is expected, and wait for John to walk away. Some days, he tends to hover, and lucky me, today is one of those days. Meanwhile, I’m going out of my skin.

What did he mean yesterday? Was he talking about her? I have to know, but I must be careful. If I so much as twitch the wrong way, John will be onto me. The creepy fucker.

Luckily, he’s laid off the drugs this morning, but that means I’m in for a long night if he doesn’t come through. It’s a double-edged sword in which most days I can’t decide which side I’d rather land on. Although at times, going right through the middle has its appeal.

Finally, he disappears down the hall, and I cock my head, springing into action when I hear the shower turn on.

The arrogant prick left his phone here. He thinks I don’t know his password, but I’ve spent a lifetime spying on him. Learning his password was easy in comparison.

When he doesn’t emerge, I pick it up gingerly, mentally noting its exact spot on the table so I can return it to its original resting place. Unfortunately, he’s also an observant asshole.

With fumbling fingers, I fudge the password and release a slow breath. Nice and easy. You’ve done this a thousand times before.

Once I’m in, my first step is his text messages, and I run through various conversations. Meetup times and places. Code for girls on the radar. Plans to exchange money.

I stop on Hunter and scroll through, jumping from message to message.

Hunter: No time

John: Make time

Hunter: What’s more important? The bigwig or the kid?

John: Both

Exiting out of the string, I check farther down, but none of the names jump out as unusual. Is he talking about her? If so, why?

I jump when my phone buzzes and glare at the ceiling. Calm the fuck down. The phone buzzes again, and I exhale slowly before picking it up. It’s from an unknown number, which doesn’t mean much.

Hey baby, when can I see you?

The pretense makes my stomach roll, but I ignore it, much like everything else in my fucked-up life.

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