Page 71 of Touch of Hate

“What should we do next, then?”

I’ll overlook the resentment in his voice in favor of coming up with the next step. “I’ll do more research here. Police reports, missing kids. Hell, even unexplained deaths. Bodies turning up seemingly out of nowhere.”

“Right,” he grunts, nodding. “Anyone who decided they weren’t into the idea of signing over their entire lives to a bunch of maniacs.”

“Something like that. Recent Google Earth images might help locate any random structures in the middle of the desert. We need a location. Something definite.”

He nods again, slower this time. “What about her?” He can’t be bothered to speak her name.

Reflexively, my gaze darts up, fixing on the bedroom door. “What do you mean?”

“You aren’t planning on leaving her there alone, are you? While we do what needs to be done?” He snorts, lifting a shoulder. “Not that I mind much, either way.”

Don’t. Don’t let him do it.

“No, I can’t leave her here.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“What else? I have to get her on our side.”

His snort tells me all I need to know, not that I have any questions. “I don’t feel like spending the rest of my life waiting for that.”

“Nobody said you’d have to wait that long.”

“Nobody needs to,” he fires back, his voice flat. “She’s never going to understand. A spoiled princess like her?”

I grind my teeth, drawing a deep breath through my nose. It does nothing to cool the indignation burning bright in my gut. “You don’t know the first thing about her, so don’t pretend you do. I’ve already begun to explain what happened. How we ended up where we are.”

“How did she take it?”

“She was sympathetic, of course.”

“Sympathy is one thing. Being willing to do what has to be done is another. It wasn’t her parents who were killed. Her entire life wasn’t fucked up. She wasn’t separated from her siblings like I was.” His voice rises in volume with every word until he’s almost shouting.

The pain I hear helps soothe at least a fraction of my irritation with him. Out of all of us, he suffered the most. “I know. And she’ll understand. She always understands.”

“We’ll see.” No big surprise; he doesn’t have high hopes. His lack of faith in her leaves me teetering on the edge, ready to tumble headfirst into rage born of frustration.

We can’t afford that.

“You’ve never met her,” I remind him. “I’ve known her for years. Give me a week, and she’ll be on our side, ready to do what has to be done. I’m sure of it.”

“A week,” he repeats, quirking a skeptical brow.

“Seven days. In the meantime, I’ll do the work I promised. Everything will be on track by this time next week.”

“You’d better hope it is.”

Dread skitters its way across my heart. “Or what?”

His knowing smile confirms what I already knew. “What do you think? I’ve always preferred to travel light, and your little girlfriend is weighing us down.”

He ends the call, leaving his thinly veiled threat hanging in the air. He has a thing for getting the last word.

There’s nothing for me to do but sit in silence, the room only lit by the glow from my screen. I have work to do and not the first idea of how to accomplish what I promised. Doubt threatens to plant its seed in my head, but I push it out of the way before it can do so. There’s no room for doubt now. I need to have faith in her, in the strength of the devotion she swears she has.

Scarlet. Please, don’t let me down.

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