Page 87 of Vicious Intentions

“Shut up!” I snarled.

“I assure you that I have every intention of honoring the contract. In fact. I’ll double the terms. Just handle it,” Cain told him.

“What is going on? Is Rose in danger?” Brett demanded.

“Yes,” I told him. “She is.”

“Jesus Christ. This has to do with the weird note she received. Right?”

The three of us looked at each other, then back to Brett. “What weird note?” I growled.

“She barely mentioned it. She just said it was a warning. I didn’t think much of it because in this business, there are stalkers and other freaks.”

Cain gave me a look. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to me.

You don’t know who you’re sleeping with. They are murderers.

“I found it in her dressing room. There was also a note left in red lipstick on her mirror,” he continued.

“Jesus. That’s creepy,” Brett said.

The man had no idea.

Exhaling, I rubbed my jaw. “We’ll take care of it.”

“What do I tell people?” Brett whined.

Cain glanced from one of us to the other. “That your star is taking a desperately needed respite to become reacquainted with some friends from her past.”

The look on Cain’s face forced both Hunter and I to tense. “What did the one on the mirror say?”

“Time to die.”

CHAPTER 23

Rose

Death.

It was inevitable that the end would come. Sometimes it loomed over people, those who were sick or had been told they didn’t have long to live. Sometimes it was a welcome relief for someone fighting pain or misery. But for many, death was a devastating ghost to be feared, some believing they had the grim reaper following them throughout life.

My situation was entirely different. I felt as if I’d been born again, leaving behind a life that I wasn’t certain I missed. Or maybe I did. There was only one way of finding out the truth. I couldn’t rely on my memory to provide what I craved desperately.

The truth.

It meant more to me than anything.

Sage.

I was certain that was my name, not Rose. The visions had become more frequent, one assaulting my mind after the other. Mostly random. All disturbing. I was thankful I’d taken a cab from the resort to the airport, the images disruptive. The puzzle pieces were trying to come together. Sadly, it was like trying to drive a square peg into a round hole. It was more frustrating than ever.

I’d also received two texts since leaving Chicago.

One was from Hunter. He’d been the one designated to find out what had happened to me. The simple question shouldn’t have meant anything, but I felt an angst unlike anything I’d felt before.

At least that I could remember.

Are you okay?

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