I spot Lyrical eyeballing the one who asked me the question.

  “In the flesh.”

  “Can we get a picture of y—”

  “Hell no,” Lyrical snaps. “If you want a picture of him, you need to look online.”

  Jealousy looks good on her. I actually love it.

  “Not right now,” I say. “You’re not wearing your engagement ring, Blue.”

  She hid her engagement ring and I looked everywhere for it. She’s going to admit she’s my fiancée sooner rather than later.

  “You give me back my sketchbook, and only then I’ll wear my ring,” she whispers in my ear. “Excuse us,” Lyrical says to the rest of the table, tugging on my arm. I follow her outside of the restaurant as people casually scroll along the sidewalk, the streetlamps illuminating the pavement. “How did you find me?”

  I grab her phone from my back pocket and hand it to her. “You forgot this.”

  She folds her arms across her chest, pushing up her breasts. “I didn’t forget it, I knew you would act crazy if you knew I was having dinner with another man, so I didn’t want you to read into it.”

  I did a background check on Professor Carter. He likes them young—college age young. I had Jameson hack into his personal laptop, and he has endless footage of himself fucking different college-aged women.

  “You don’t think it’s odd that he only invited girls to this dinner?”

  “No, they are all in my art class, and Professor Carter is married and has a child. He wouldn’t hit on me.”

  Yeah, I don’t believe it. He’s looking for his next victim. And he’s not married—not according to the background check. He’s not in a relationship with anyone else, nor does he have a child.

  “If you’re going to sit with me, shut up and don’t ruin this for me. I need my art in this gallery.”

  “I don’t understand why you don’t want to use my connections or your parents’.”

  She places her hands on her hips. “Because my identity is not going to be tied to you or our families. I want people to actually love my artwork.”

  I get what she says. She wants her own identity.

  “Behave, Snow. Please, for the love of God, don’t threaten him. Or try to harm him.”

  “No promises.”

  “Ugh.”

  I follow her back to the table, sitting between her and Professor Carter, and pull Lyrical so close to me that she’s damn near on my lap. She looks animated, telling him why she wants a spot in the gallery so bad.

  It pisses me off the way he keeps looking at my fiancée’s breasts.

  I ball my fists under the table.

  I have to behave; I can’t cut his head off with a bunch of witnesses around.

  Do you know how hard it is for me to not punch the bastard for keeping his eyes glued to her?

  “Excuse me, I have to go to the ladies’ room.” Lyrical stands up, and I watch her disappear along with the other women until they are out of earshot.

  “This is what’s going to happen, you’re going to choose my fiancée’s painting to go inside of the gallery.”

  “With all due respect, you don’t tell me what to do,” Carter snaps.

  I yank him by the collar, bunching up his shirt.

  “With all due disrespect, I did a background check on you, and you’re not married. So you lied to her. I don’t know what your endgame is with my girl, but if you lay a finger on her, or if so much as a hair is out of place on her head, I’ll gut you like a fish. You keep your contact with her to a minimum. Keep your eyes off my fiancée’s breasts or I’ll cut you up into pieces, then dump your remains in the ocean.” I let him go. “Fix your fucking face before she comes back to the table.”

  Before he can respond, the girls are back, taking their seats, and Lyrical sits next to me, eyeing me suspiciously, before her eyes go to Carter.

  “Is everything all right?” Her tone is skeptical.

  I nod and then step on Carter’s shoe under the table.

  “Yeah. Um, sure,” Professor Carters says before standing up from the table. “It’s been an evening, but I have to go.” He buttons up his dress jacket. “See you ladies later.”

  I watch him make his way to the front entrance.

  “I could use a drink, too,” the blonde girl says.

  “Me too,” Lyrical agrees. “We’re having a girls’ night for my bachelorette party and you two are welcome to come.”

  “Really?” The dark-haired girl’s eyes beam.

  “Yes, the more, the merrier.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “What bachelorette party?”

  “The one Winter is hosting for me. She wants to bring male strippers to serve us drinks in their boxers.”

  She’s trying to get a rise out of me because I crashed her dinner. My little fireball loves revenge just as much as I do.

  A smirk forms at the corner of her mouth.

  I whisper in her ear, “If you allow any man at your party that’s not security, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

  She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her eyes. “And we’re going to have good food too. Men giving us a peep show as well. My friend said she’s only hiring men with big dicks. The best party ever.”

  “Punishing you will be so much fun,” I murmur against her temple.

  Once dinner is over and we make it home, that’s exactly what I do. Tie her up to the bed and fuck her.

  Lyrical

  Since Snow won’t let me do things without him when it comes to solving Bailey’s death, I guess I’ll have to sneak behind his back and look for the answers myself. We’re supposed to be a team and work on finding out who Bailey’s boyfriend is together, but he’s not being a team member.

  So, I had Winter keep my phone with her and if Snow texts me, she’ll text him back on my behalf. I’m not going to wait around on him.

  I understand he’s trying to protect me from harm, but I can take care of myself. I don’t need him to control every aspect of my life. Just in the bedroom.

  I met a girl online who worked at the strip club with Bailey, and I told her to meet me on neutral grounds at a park, because I don’t want to meet her on mafia turf, let alone go to a strip club without Snow being present. They are not so kind to outsiders and people asking questions. It’ll put a target on my back.

  I sit on a bench, watching people walk along the trails. It’s mid-October and the leaves on the oak trees are bright autumn colors.

  I zip up my leather jacket as the cool breeze nips at my cheeks. A woman wearing a trench coat and fishnet stockings, carrying a backpack, waltzes up to me and holds out her hand.

  “Hi, I’m Rachel.”

  She’s gorgeous with her pastel blue hair reaching her shoulders, with two rings in each side of her nose. I slip my palm into hers and shake her hand.

  “I’m Lyrical.”

  Nodding, she lets go of my palm and sits beside me. Her expensive perfume invades my nostrils. She smells sweet like a daisy.

  “So… you knew Bailey?”

  She nods, crosses her legs over the other, and stuffs her hands into her coat pockets. Her deep brown pupils radiate so much pain.

  “She worked at the strip club with me. She was saving up money to leave her lifestyle, to leave her abusive boyfriend.”

  The fact that Bailey felt like she needed to run away leaves a gigantic hole in my chest. Why didn’t she go to her parents or Snow and tell them about the situation she was in? I’m sure they would have murdered him. Maybe she was trying to protect him. I’ve researched abusive relationships and I read that the victims would go to great lengths to protect their abusers.

  Rachel looks me up and down, and a weak smile spreads across her face. “You must have been her best friend and roommate?”

  “Yes.”

  I watch a teenager on rollerblades glide past us. The sky is turning an inky blue, and the sound of the wind fills the silence between us for a brief moment.

  “She spoke about you a lot, told me you were getting engaged to her brother.”

  I don’t respond, and she sighs.

  “She never wanted to disappoint you or her brother.”

  Tears well in my eyes. “She was never a disappointment to us. We just wanted what was best for her.”

  She pats my back. “I was helping her with an escape plan. I was in an abusive relationship, too, with an underboss. He used to be in the mafia as well as her ex-boyfriend.”

  “Did you get his name?”

  “No, but I do know he went to North Haven University. She said he was popular on campus and they couldn’t be seen in public because of her arranged marriage to a rich guy. A few weeks before her death, he found her at a bus station leaving. She said she wanted to keep her baby, but he was forcing her to get an abortion. He promised her that if she went through with it, he would treat her good. The beating got worse after she aborted her child.”

  Bailey suffered so much, and I wasn’t there to help her, to protect her. She suffered in silence, wanting an escape from her new life. I imagine her being scared and alone, and the ache in my chest builds.

  She removes her backpack and hands me a bunch of Bailey’s stuff. Tears gather in her eyes, matching mine. “I feel bad. I feel like I could have done more. I… He used to force her to have sex with other men. She used to tell me how he would invite her to parties with rich men from the Billionaire Club and they would run a train on her.”

  I feel like I’m suffocating from her words. I suspect he was pimping her out since she was involved with someone who has no morals.

  We both hug each other as tears leak down our faces, and my head hurts so much from crying. I feel worn out. I pull away from her and use the back of my thumbs to wipe under my eyes. I feel my mascara clumping around my eyelids, and I’m sure my face looks like a racoon.

  “It was nice meeting you, Lyrical, but I have to go to work.” I walk her to her car, where we say our goodbyes.

  Once I’m in my own car, I search through the bag that Rachel gave me and I find stripper clothing, pictures of me and Bailey and Snow at a house party—and an ultrasound of a baby, I think. My tears wet the picture. There’s also a key, and a sketch of a house with an address scribbled at the bottom. I toss the bag in my back seat.

  I can’t keep the tears at bay, no matter what I do.

  With the bag slung over my shoulders, I walk into the living room to find Snow standing by the window.

  Anger colors his faces and his arms are folded across his bare chest. He stalks up to me, yanks me by the arm, and assesses me from head to toe.

  “You met a woman at a park? Why?”

  How the hell does he know where I was when I left my phone with Winter?

  Peeling his fingers from my arm, I head to the kitchen, open the fridge, grab the jug of lemonade, and pour it into a crystal glass. “I left my phone with Winter, because I knew you were tracking me. Wait. How did you know I met some girl? I used Lilac’s phone to text her.”

  He stands directly in front of me, blocking me from leaving the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it. Just know I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

  Slowly, I swallow big gulps of the sweet beverage. “Stalking is a crime, Snow. I don’t mind you doing it, but I need my privacy.”

  “It’s not a crime if I don’t get caught.”

  “Spoken like a true criminal,” I mock.

  There isn’t any point in arguing with him, he’s going to do what he wants—he’s been like this since we were teenagers.

  “She knew Bailey. She confirmed what we already knew. There is an address Bailey had written down on a sketch and a key she gave me. I think it’s to her ex’s house. I’m going there.”

  “No, you’re not. I’ll do everything to protect you, Blue. Even if it means I lock you in this house.”

  I shake my head. “You and your controlling ways, I swear. First, you popped up at my dinner with Professor Carter, and now you’re mad because I’m sneaking behind your back. You promised, Revi, but you’re just projecting your fears on losing me.”

  He cups my face, rubbing his fingers along my bottom lip. “What would have happened if the girl you met robbed you? What about if someone kidnapped you? The park you went to is sketchy. You’re a small woman with little protection, and I’m not supposed to worry about you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but it didn’t happen. I can’t live my life on what-ifs, Snow. You can’t protect me from everything.”

  “I will and I can. You can’t stop me.”

  We used to fight about this all the time, and though I love that he wants to protect me, he has to trust me enough that I can take care of myself.

  This conversation isn’t going anywhere, so I kick off my shoes, set them by the couch, then I yank the hair tie and my locks fall over my shoulders like a waterfall as I comb my fingers through my hair.

  He follows me up the stairs, as I stroll to the bathroom, and he turns the golden faucet to the tub, sighing. I remove my clothes and toss them on the floor. He watches me with his hands folded across his chest.

  Tears wet my eyes and I quickly wipe them away.

  “What is it?”

  “Bailey…” I want to cut myself again. I don’t want to feel this pain anymore. I want to release my blood that’s in my body because it makes me feel like I’m releasing my sins, my guilt. Keeping my eyes on the makeup bag with my razors, I quickly shake my head. If Snow found out I bought new razors and started hurting myself again, he’d be pissed. He told me he would cut himself if he found out I started again, and I don’t want him to hurt himself because of me. It’s an addiction that I can’t shake. I need to feel the pain. The hurt. “Rachel told me she had a plan to leave, that she was in a relationship with someone from North Haven University.” I can’t fight the sob that wants to burst free. “You remember when Bailey said she was going to London with Tim for a few weeks?”

  He nods, sitting on the edge of the tub.

  “I suspect she was getting beat up so much that she couldn’t show her face. She really was pregnant. She was leaving him because she wanted a better life for their child, and he found her and beat her up.”

  Snow doesn’t respond but has a murderous look on his face, the one he makes when he wants to kill someone.

  “I should have seen the signs. Why didn’t I see the signs? Why didn’t she tell me she needed a way out? I would have gotten her out of here, I would have given all of my trust fund money to her. I would have saved her.”

  Snow’s quiet, staring at me.

  “We both failed her.” His tone is low. “Bailey always went to great lengths to protect the people she loved, and she loved him. That’s why she never told us. She knew I would have killed him. When I find him, I’m going to do what I have to do to him. His death is going to be a slow one.”

  Snow removes his pajama pants and boxers and slides into the tub, causing the water to overflow to the tiles.

  I need a distraction from this pain. The hole in my chest has grown to the size of the Atlantic Ocean. I fight the urge to not harm myself.

  “Use me as your fuck toy.”

  He strokes my cheeks, kisses me roughly, then he grabs my neck, squeezing hard and coming close to cutting off my airway. He knows I want to be dominated by him, for him to have full control over my body. He lets go of me, yanks me by the arm and out of the tub, and carries me over his shoulders before tossing me on the bed. Snow grabs some zip ties and duct tape from the drawer and restrains my arms and legs. He presses the tape against my mouth. When he flips me over onto my front, he bends my knees into the soft mattress, positioning my ass in the air. I feel the head of his dick nudging the entrance of my pussy, and I groan. Snow has been my addiction, and I love when he uses me like he wants, giving in to my fantasies.

  He slides inside of me, hitting a wall, then he slides out, yanking my hair so hard my scalp stings, fucking me until tears flow down my cheeks.

  Snow

  Jameson walks behind me as I open the door to White Rabbit’s house with the key Lyrical received from Rachel. This happens to be the exact same address which was written on Bailey’s sketch.

  I use my fingers to close my nostrils, because it smells like cat piss and shit in here. The place is fucking dirty and moldy food lies on the table. I make my way to the living room, finding someone sitting on the recliner facing the opposite direction. I remove my gun from the back of my pants and aim it at him. Jameson does the same. When we walk in front of the chair, I find June’s mouth hanging open, a gigantic hole through his forehead. Maggots and flies feast on his rotting brain. He’s been sitting here for a while.

  Slowly, I lift his shirt, and I see a snake tattoo with an X over it, just like in the picture Lyrical told me about. So he’s the one who was abusing my sister. He probably was hanging around Lyrical so he could kill her as well, which makes sense as to why they were at a football party before they came to mine the night of the accident.

  Rage fills me, so I shoot fresh bullets into his chest. I don’t care if he’s already dead, and now I feel like my revenge was robbed from me.

  “Someone got to him before we did,” Jameson murmurs.

  This sucks because I can’t torture him and figure out why he wanted Lyrical dead. Why did he have a hit on her? Lyrical believes he thought she knew too much about Bailey’s death. I glance around the room, and I spot a cat hissing at me. Shaking my head, I walk farther down the hallway, and I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’m hoping to find some answers to my sister’s death.

  “Snow, come back here. You want to see this,” Jameson shouts.

  I follow his voice and I walk into a room with different computer screens and a file cabinet. Jameson shoots the cabinet open, and I grab a file and see pictures of different women and their information. This motherfucker was a stalker. I search through the files to see if my sister’s information is there, and I find it. I spot a few photos of her chained to the bed, ones where she’s giving a blow job while getting fucked in the ass, and I want to vomit.

  When I flip the file open, it has a record of her abortion clinic, and how many men she has been with.

 

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