Page 94 of The Wicked

“TikTok.”

“It’s bullshit. It wasn’t nearly that dramatic.”

“Then why are you so upset? Is it the girl? The one you asked me to make the dance shoes for? They’re almost finished.”

I couldn’t stay in Oregon any longer, not when Saralisa refused to have anything to do with me, not when I wanted to punch my brother in the mouth every time I saw him, and not when I wanted to line Seth Harless up in my sights and pull the trigger. If I’d stayed at home, I would have ended up doing something I regretted. There were only two people I trusted to have my back in this situation, and the idea of flying to Europe to hang out with Johannes and half a dozen naked debutantes filled me with as much joy as a root canal, so I’d hired the best personal protection team money could buy, told them not to let Saralisa out of their sight, and headed to New York.

Gracie lived in Tribeca, in a loft that she’d decorated in an eclectic mix of antique and modern. An ornate glass lamp cast a glow over a wooden rocking chair. A MacBook sat on a leather-topped writing desk. The only bed occupied a low platform at the far end of the cavernous room, beside a bathroom with glass-brick walls. Kind of awkward when one of us was showering. Usually, it didn’t matter to Gracie because she hated houseguests. This was her personal space, hers and hers alone. I’d be sleeping on the couch tonight.

“Yeah, it’s the girl.”

Despite claiming I didn’t want to discuss it, I found myself spilling the details. Not the intimate ones, just the bare facts. Gracie was no Trey. She wouldn’t go broadcasting our conversation to the enemy, and I hoped that by talking to her, she’d be able to offer a woman’s perspective on how I could win Saralisa back.

“So let me get this straight… You fell in love with a girl and she trusted you with her darkest secrets. And rather than respecting her privacy, you went behind her back and hired an investigator to delve into her past?”

“It sounds so much worse when you say it out loud.”

“Brother, it’s going to take more than flowers or chocolates to dig yourself out of this hole. Or shoes. Why didn’t you just talk to her?”

“Because…uh.”

“Because you knew she’d say no to your dumb idea?”

Ouch. I swallowed what remained in the glass and poured myself another three fingers. Who cared about ice? I chugged that too and lay back on the couch with an arm over my face because the lights were hurting my eyes.

“Maybe,” I mumbled. “But what was I meant to do? She said Seth Harless murdered her parents and tried to suffocate her. You know Seth? Graham’s security guy? Don’t you think that sounds crazy? I certainly did at the time, although now I’m not so sure. Would you honestly have believed her?”

Silence followed, and I hoped to hell that Gracie had painkillers in her bathroom cabinet. That was one advantage of staying with Johannes. He came with a whole selection of drugs—some of them were even legal—and if he didn’t have it, he could get it.

“Yes, I absolutely would have believed her.”

Something in Gracie’s tone sent a chill through me. No, not a chill. It felt as if somebody had poured liquid nitrogen into my spinal column. I tried to sit up, but it took me two attempts because the room kept spinning.

“Why? You’ve never even met her.”

“But I’ve met Harless.”

The way Gracie bit her lip reminded me of Saralisa, and her eyes…fuck, her eyes.

“What did he do to you, Gracie? What did he do?”

“It wasn’t him; it was Mandell.” Her voice was hollow. Despite how close we used to be, despite the years we’d spent growing up together, I’d never heard her speak that way before. “Harless is just there to clean up afterward.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Put it this way—if Satan ever needed to adopt a human form, Mandell would make the perfect vessel. I know. Trust me, I know. He preys on women, and he thinks he’s untouchable. Maybe he is? He’s an expert in turning fear to his advantage. Garrett, if you put an innocent woman into his crosshairs, then I’m not sureIcan forgive you either.”

Cold dread mixed with alcohol, and the effect was nauseating.

“What. Did. He. Do?”

“I’m in the same position as Saralisa. Talk and regret it. I’d love to meet her someday, seeing as we’re members of a reasonably exclusive club. We’ve both been fucked over by Graham Mandell, although in my case, it was more literal than figurative.”

It took a while for the meaning of her words to penetrate my addled brain, but when they did, I grabbed the bowl full of glass baubles on the coffee table and puked most of the Scotch into it. That son of a bitch. I’d kill him.

“He…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word. “He raped you.”

“If you ask him, he’ll say it was consensual. That I came onto him,threwmyself at him, and he’d had a few drinks so what was he meant to do? He regrets it, of course. It was a moment of weakness. Really, he’s a fine, upstanding citizen while I’m the good-time girl, always falling out of some club or another. The slut with a penchant for older men. The dirty bitch who called him Daddy and begged him to fuck me. Who would have believed my story, Garrett? Nobody, that’s who.”

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