Blacklist

  “Why did she lie?”

  “Add that to the pile of questions I have about her. Anyway, we should probably hurry. Someone knows we’re here, and there’s no telling how long they’ll extend the hospitality.”

  While Ryan checked the desk, Aster went straight for the filing cabinet. Despite the lock on every drawer, they were left purposely open, as though someone wanted her to look. She started flicking through the files, but they were arranged by a series of numbers and letters that made no immediate sense, or at least not to her.

  “Anything?” Ryan whispered, but Aster frowned in reply.

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’m not sure how this works.”

  Ryan abandoned the desk and came to stand beside her.

  “I know there’s a system, but it’s a mystery to me.” She motioned toward the files and moved aside to let Ryan try.

  She watched his fingers deftly move among them as though he actually knew what to look for. A moment later, he plucked a file from the pile and quickly flipped it open.

  “I recognize the indexing system. My mom’s an attorney,” he said, his voice distracted. “I used to work for her during summer break, doing filing and stuff.”

  Aster hovered beside him. Other than her job promoting Night for Night, she’d never worked a day in her life. To be so easily stumped by a filing system left her feeling like a pampered, useless princess.

  “This should be it, but . . .” Aster peered over his shoulder to better see. “The file is empty.”

  “You sure?”

  He showed her the inside.

  “No, I mean, you sure that’s her file?”

  “According to the tab.” He shrugged and placed it back where he found it. “But this is weird.” He rose onto his toes and reached all the way to the back of the drawer to retrieve a box full of . . . something, Aster couldn’t quite make it out in the dark until he held it before her. “Blood-collection needles,” he said.

  Aster stared blankly.

  “And it looks like there’s another box just beneath full of blood collection tubes.”

  “What the—” Before Aster could finish, Ryan snuffed the light on his phone, dropped to the ground, and pulled her down with him. In his rush, he lost his grip on the box and the needles flew free and clattered around them.

  Aster unwillingly slumped down beside him, ready to unleash her full fury for his unnecessarily scaring her, when she heard a set of heavy footsteps approaching the door and a moment later, someone aimed a flashlight right through the window.

  She cringed, tried to make herself smaller in hopes of avoiding the bouncing beam of light that landed just shy of them.

  Ryan reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly in his, as Aster huddled against him, praying the person would leave. The two of them remained frozen, afraid to so much as breathe, until the torch cut, the office fell dark once again, and the person moved on.

  “Probably just security making the rounds,” Ryan whispered, more to make her feel better than out of any real belief in his words. He reached toward her and brushed the back of his hand softly across her cheek. “You okay?”

  In the dark, she could just barely make out the elegant lines of his face, the slant of his brow, his mouth just inches from hers. Instinctively, she reached up, clasped his hand to her cheek, and entwined his fingers with hers. It would be so easy to kiss him, to close the gap between them and press her lips against his. From the way he returned the look, the way he pushed into her space, it was clear he was thinking it too.

  She raised a finger to his lips, softly tracing the peaks and valley of his perfect Cupid’s bow, all the while remembering how good his mouth had felt crushed against hers, and how she longed to feel that again.

  He shivered under her touch, ran a hand along the line of her jaw, then lingered at the base of her throat. With his body lying flush against hers, the moment was so charged with promise and heat, Aster had no choice but to force herself to retreat, force herself to remember all the reasons why they couldn’t be together. Soon, she’d be on trial—her fate at the mercy of twelve people who knew nothing about her. She couldn’t waste a single moment on anything other than building her defense. Kissing Ryan Hawthorne was a luxury she could not indulge in.

  “We should go,” she whispered into the dark, watching as Ryan exhaled deeply and reluctantly stood. “If they call in that car . . .” Aster didn’t bother to finish the thought. Ryan could fill in the blanks on his own.

  He peered out the window. “Coast seems to be clear.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I don’t see anyone.”

  Aster squinted into the darkness, but after the scare, she was reluctant to rely on her phone. “Maybe we should get in front of this and call it in anonymously.”

  “And say what?”

  “That Madison’s car is parked out front, and that this Paul guy not only works for her, but he has a whole blood-collecting kit he keeps next to her file.”

  “I’m not sure that proves anything.”

  Aster frowned.

  “Hey, just playing the devil’s advocate here. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “Okay,” she said, struggling to make sense of it. “I’m just thinking, either Paul went rogue and harmed Madison, or more likely, he’s still working for her and he helped her disappear. What if they’ve been planning this whole thing for a while? And what if, let’s say, over the course of the last few months, Madison’s been steadily giving blood in order to fake her abduction and make it look real?”

  Ryan remained silent, but in the dark, Aster couldn’t tell if it was because he was actually considering her idea, or trying to determine the most polite, most inoffensive way to tell her the whole thing was crazy. A moment later, his phone lit up as his fingers moved over the screen.

  “Who you calling?” she asked.

  “Arranging for an Uber,” he started, but Aster quickly swiped his phone away and ended the call before he could finish.

  “No. No Uber. No electronic record that can prove we were here.”

  “So how do we get out of here?” he asked, but Aster was already on it, already moving for the door.

  A second later, when an alarm went off, they ran like their lives depended on it.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  YOU SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG

  Layla was still awake, and she used the moment to roll onto her side and watch Tommy sleep. There was something so intimate about watching a guy sleep. Especially a guy like Tommy, who blazed through life as though he had something urgent to prove. Who he was trying to impress was anyone’s guess. Maybe it was just something he needed to do for himself. Though somehow she felt it went deeper than that.

  Looking at his arm casually tossed over his head, lips slightly parted, hair tousled and falling into his eyes, Layla realized just how little she knew about him. For one thing, his concern regarding her reasons for sleeping with him had taken her by surprise.

  Was she trying to exorcise the memory of Mateo as he’d suggested? It was entirely possible, and in the end completely futile. Mateo had been her first love. She’d never be fully free of him, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to be.

  While sleeping with Tommy probably wasn’t one of her wisest moves, for the moment anyway she chose not to care. Besides, she didn’t want anything from him, and she was pretty sure he felt the same way. In bed he’d been surprisingly tender and sweet, and just wild enough to thoroughly satisfy her. It was enough. More than enough, really.

  She stretched her legs before her and lifted her arms high, unable to remember the last time she’d felt so fulfilled, so relaxed. The movement caused Tommy to stir in his sleep, hovering somewhere on the precipice of waking. Layla rolled toward him and lowered the sheet, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of his body, his lean muscular build probably honed from long days of working as a ranch hand, or maybe running track in high school. She tried to imagine what his life might’ve been like back in Oklahoma. Had he
been the star of his school, always surrounded by pretty girls hoping he’d notice them long enough to write a song about them?

  She ran her fingertip over his hip, about to wake him again, when her phone buzzed with an incoming text and she reached toward the nightstand instead.

  “Ignore it.” Tommy’s voice was warm and sleepy as his eyes fluttered open. He reached first for her breasts, then her waist, before tugging her arms and pulling her down so his mouth could meet hers.

  She returned the kiss, eager to repeat all the things they’d done earlier, along with a few more things they hadn’t yet tried. Only she’d glimpsed just enough of the text to know it was from Aster and that it was urgent.

  “It’s Aster.” She fumbled for the phone, struggling to read the words on the screen as Tommy licked his way down her body.

  “Aster can wait,” Tommy mumbled, pausing to appreciate the gold-and-ruby ring in her navel before heading due south.

  “Actually, she can’t.” Layla sat up so quickly, Tommy’s face hit the mattress. Still, there was no time to apologize. She was too busy plucking her clothes off the floor.

  Tommy gazed at her sleepily. “Where are you going?”

  Layla stepped into her dress and shoved her feet into her heels. “I know you want no part of this, but Aster needs help, so I really gotta go.”

  In an instant, Tommy was up and getting dressed too.

  “You’re coming?” Layla combed her fingers through her hair, going for a look of purposely tousled, as opposed to just a bad case of bed head. No need for Aster to see her looking so disheveled and guess what they’d been up to.

  “You actually think I would send you out there on your own in the middle of the night?”

  “Tommy—” Layla watched as he pulled on a T-shirt and jeans before slipping into an old pair of leather flip-flops. “Just because we . . .” She motioned toward the bed with its skewed pillows and rumpled sheets, feeling suddenly self-conscious about putting a voice to all the delicious things they’d done to each other. “Doesn’t mean you have to come with me, or do anything for me, really. I have no expectations. You don’t owe me anything. We’re both adults here, and—”

  Tommy stood so close she could see the individual flecks in his irises. “I thought you said it was urgent.” He rubbed the tip of his thumb across her cheekbone and tucked a loose strand back behind her ear. The move was so innocuous and yet so intimate, it gave Layla chills.

  “I did, but—”

  “So don’t you think we should get going then?” He jangled his keys.

  Without a word, Layla thrust her bag over her shoulder and followed him out the door.

  “Driver’s gone.” Tommy led her toward the parking garage. “So we’ll have to take my car.”

  He clicked the key fob and unlocked the doors. The chirping sound seemed to boomerang against the concrete walls as Tommy moved to open her door before getting his.

  A small grin crept onto Layla’s face. Who would’ve guessed Tommy Phillips was so well-schooled in old-fashioned manners? It made her wonder what his mom must be like. Though Tommy rarely talked about his parents or his life before he arrived in LA.

  His fingers found the handle and he yanked the door open, motioning Layla inside. But Layla remained frozen in place, staring unblinkingly at the elaborately wrapped gift box sitting on the passenger seat with a card bearing her name.

  Instinctively her hand flew to cover her mouth, as Tommy looked on from beside her. “How did they get into your car?” she whispered.

  Tommy stared uncomprehendingly. “I know I locked it. I always lock it. And while I’d love to take credit for the gift, I’m afraid—”

  “No.” She was quick to cut him off. “Trust me. You don’t want to take credit for this. It’s not a gift.” She looked all around the parking garage, but of course, they were alone. Whoever had left this was long gone.

  She slid onto the seat and held the box on her lap, as Tommy went around to the driver’s side and settled beside her. Since the car had been parked in the garage for the last few hours, the interior was hot, and yet the package felt cool to the touch, as though it had only recently been delivered.

  Someone had been watching them. Following them. Though another quick glance around the parking garage assured her they were the only ones there, the thought of being stalked without knowing gave her the chills.

  Sliding her finger under the flap of the envelope, she removed the note tucked inside and frowned at the disturbing image of an abused cartoon cat.

  It marked the fourth card she’d been sent, and this time in addition to the noose, the gunshot wound to the head, and the missing front teeth, he bore a gruesome-looking black eye. Inside was the familiar curlicue script.

  Received your message loud and clear

  Seems you’re convinced you have nothing to fear

  While I can assure you that you’re wrong about that

  If you’re in need of more proof, look no further than the poor battered cat

  If it’s convincing you need

  I’ve procured a few things to fill up your blog feed

  Now that we’ve struck a deal

  Things are about to get very real

  It’s time for you to do as I say

  Or else you better prepare to pay.

  Layla handed the card to Tommy, noting the way his eyes went wide as his chin practically dropped to his chest.

  He cast a troubled glance her way, and said, “I’ve seen this.” He shook the card in his fist. “Not this exactly, but the picture of the cat. I saw the same image on a piece of paper in Ira’s office.”

  Layla was stricken by his words, wondering what the connection might be. Tommy had warned her about Ira before, but she’d never taken the warnings seriously. Though maybe he’d been right all along. Maybe Ira was far worse than any of them ever realized.

  Wordlessly, she removed the ribbon, tore through the wrapping paper, and opened the box, finding a stack of diary entries, along with other random documents pertaining to Madison.

  “We need to go.” She looked at Tommy. “I’ll get you up to date, I promise. But right now, we really need to hurry. Aster and Ryan are in far more trouble than they think.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  OUR LIPS ARE SEALED

  Tommy was shaken. So shaken he wondered why they didn’t just call the police, hand over the box, and let them take it from there so they could all walk away and get on with their regularly scheduled lives. But when he mentioned it to Layla, she instantly dismissed the idea.

  “Not happening.” Her tone was nonnegotiable. “Pretty sure this transcends the LAPD. They found their suspect, case closed. Anything you or I do to intervene is only going to be met with suspicion. Besides, Aster can’t really go back to her life. Which is why we need to help her.”

  While Tommy couldn’t exactly dispute what she’d said, that didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted to try.

  “Still . . . ,” he muttered, leaving the thought to dangle unfinished, since he had no idea what could possibly follow that would bear enough impact to change Layla’s mind. They drove the rest of the way in silence before he pulled into a church parking lot, where Aster and Ryan were supposedly waiting. “Do we know what this is about? Seems like a pretty strange meet spot.” He peered through the side and rearview mirrors and watched as Aster and Ryan cautiously crawled from the shadows and looked all around, before darting for the car.

  “It’s about Madison.” Layla sighed. “Everything’s about Madison.” She shifted toward the backseat, watching as Aster and Ryan climbed in. “Where to?” she asked.

  Aster glanced between them as though trying to determine what they were doing together. “My place,” she said. Then, narrowing her gaze on Tommy, she added, “Though I didn’t expect to see you. What’s with the change of heart?”

  Tommy glanced over his shoulder and put the car in reverse. It was a good question, and one he certainly deserved after blowing her off after she
was released from lockup. Thing was, his heart hadn’t changed at all, no matter how hard he’d tried. His attempts to keep his distance and try to convince himself he could be interested in a girl like Tiki were futile at best. It was Layla he’d wanted since the first day they’d met, and after the intimacy they’d just shared, there was no more denying it. For better or worse, he was all in. Which meant he would do whatever it took to try and protect her. Though that didn’t mean he was ready to pour his heart out to a car full of people.

  “I became part of this the night I took Madison to the Vesper,” he said. “So, like it or not, I’m in.” He pulled onto the street and focused on driving as Aster and Ryan breathlessly filled them in. The two of them continued to talk over each other until Tommy noticed a car with flashing lights zooming up from behind them, and he moved to the side of the road.

  He lowered his window and watched through the side-view mirror as a guy wearing sneakers, dad jeans, and a blue button-down shirt rolled at the cuffs made a slow but purposeful approach.

  “Tommy Phillips.” Detective Larsen leaned through the driver’s-side window and flashed a squinty-eyed grin as though reuniting with a long-lost classmate he had fond memories of bullying. “Been a while.” He curled his meat-slab fingers around the door-trim panel.

  Tommy shrugged, tempted to say something about how it hadn’t been nearly long enough, but wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.

  Larsen angled his head farther inside and craned his stump of a neck toward the backseat. “Looks like the gang’s all here.” His beady green gaze moved among them, lingering on Aster for a moment before returning to Tommy. “So, where you all headed at”—he checked his watch—“one fifteen a.m.? Seems a little late, no?”