I hate the way I fell apart today, too.
“Please stop worrying, and tell the guys they can calm down. I’m fine.”
There’s a low murmur on her end, and some fumbling. “Ny, don’t hang up yet. Noah wants to talk to you.”
I wait patiently while she hands the phone to Noah, letting my head drop back on the cushion behind me. I don’t remember when I took off my boots; the entire night has been so surreal. But I don’t want to leave this cozy, comfortable apartment.
“Ny?” Noah’s deep voice rumbles through the phone.
“Hi, Noah.”
“Don’t stay with him, Ny. Tell me where you are so I can come get you. I can keep you safe.”
I close my eyes for a second, counting to five, before I answer Noah in the kindest tone I can muster. But I’m exhausted, and arguing my own independence isn’t something I’m in the mood for.
I keep my voice firm. “Noah, I’m fine. I’m at Ace’s condo uptown. It’s a few doors down from his uncle’s bar. It’s in a really good area. I’m safe here. Please don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow on campus.”
Noah’s tone is just as demanding as mine is final. “What’s the name of the bar?”
“I fi tell you, do you promise to stay put? I’m tired, Noah. No more drama.” My stubbornness is showing, but he needs to know that I’m serious about this.
There’s a soft pout in his tone that pulls a smile out of me. “Fine. What’s the name of the bar? We need to know where you are, Ny.”
“It’s called The Corner. See you tomorrow, Noah. And…thanks. For worrying about me and for helping me earlier.”
Noah deserved that thank-you. He proved tonight that he really does care about me, that he’s not completely selfish.
I end the call and stand up, stretching my arms above my head. I wander over to the window and stand looking out at the uptown Charlotte skyline. Against the inky backdrop of the nighttime sky, it’s epic. I’ll be a city girl forever. Even at a time like this, where the underbelly of the city is glowing brighter than the beauty, I know that this is where I belong.
Spotting my boots lying by the front door, I pad over and pull them on. Ace isn’t back yet, so I’ll just head down to the bar to check on him.
I close the door tightly behind me and am down to the lobby level in seconds. Once I’m out on the street, I hustle toward the alley that Ace and I took to the Corner’s back door earlier tonight. Once inside the building, I look right and left. Left leads out to the bar, and right leads…to the restroom? The need is suddenly an issue.
I move down the hall until I reach the first door. The kitchen.
Nope. No bathroom in there.
Continuing, the next door is an office. The door is slightly ajar, and I realize there isn’t anything else along this hallway. The bathrooms must be back in the bar, maybe on the other side than the hallway I’m now standing in. I’m turning to move back down the hall when something catches my eye just beyond the cracked office door. My feet move automatically, even as my body is not-so-patiently nudging me to find a restroom.
The wooden door squeaks as I press forward, peeking inside. The room isn’t huge. There’s a desk with a closed laptop sitting on it. My first thought is about how organized Carson is. There are two black leather chairs, one on either side of the desk. There isn’t much else, but my eyes keep drifting past the desk, past the chairs, to the floor.
The hardwood floor, where a dead body lies motionless.
Staring up at me.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to earlier in the night when I was attacked. My response is automatic, and painfully girly. I open my mouth and start to scream.
Twenty-One
ACE
I’ve just crossed the threshold into the bar when I spot him: there’s a man pacing in front of the row of barstools.
He’s straight-laced in some gray slacks and a striped shirt, and something about his face strums a chord of familiarity in me.
He turns toward the bar, his eyes landing on Carson, who’s pouring a drink for a customer.
Creeping closer, I hear the guy demand my uncle’s attention. Carson is calm about it, sparing him a glance before finishing the drink. After he slides the highball glass to the man waiting for it, he turns his attention to the guy who has the word pissed written all over his face.
I slide up behind the man just in case Carson needs me.
“What can I do for you?” Carson gives the guy a wary eye from his loafers up to his hair gel.
“You finally ready to talk to me? You can tell me where my brother is. He’s been missing since last week, and someone told me today that I should check in here.”
The man folds his arms across his chest, and my eyes grow wide as I stare at Carson. The word “Marcus?” falls silently from my lips, and his pull thin.
Carson leans on the bar. “Yeah? Who told you that? And what’s your brother’s name?”
The man imitates Carson’s stance, his voice dropping lower. “His name is Marcus Wahl.”
Carson’s refusing to glance at me, and I know he’s trying to keep me out of it. He wants to handle him, be the protector for me he’s always been. He texted me because he wanted me to hear what the man had to say, but he doesn’t want me to step in. But this is my hole, not his, and there’s no way I’m letting him dig himself in any deeper.
“I’m Ace.” I step forward, beside the guy, and place both of my hands on the bar. “And I think I’m the person you’re
