I can’t see the blond football player’s face, but his back stiffens. “Fine. Find someone else then. I’m sick of this shit. Goddammit. I’m going home.”
He rips off his plastic crown and throws it on the ground, then turns around and starts stalking toward me. For a second, I panic. But his car is the one parked two ahead of the one I’m hiding behind. I crouch by the back bumper as I hear him open and close his door. A second later, the engine revs loudly and he peels out. I crane my neck to watch him go.
“Good riddance, you fucking asshole!” she screams after his retreating tail lights, picking up an empty Coke bottle from the curb and hurling it after him.
I sink back behind the car, resting the back of my head against the smooth metal surface for a second as I try to absorb what just happened. Iris is just about the last person I would’ve expected to see here—but I guess if the guys heard about Trent’s birthday plans, there’s no reason she wouldn’t have too. And she obviously didn’t like them one bit.
If she sees me here or finds out I just witnessed her blowup with Trent, she’ll probably recruit Savannah to make my life a living hell. So I stay hidden behind the row of cars as I move in a low crouch in the opposite direction. It’s awkward as fuck in heels and a short, skin-tight dress, but at least the whole point is that no one can see me.
When I’m far enough away to risk it, I stand and hurry through the darkness toward the side street where Lincoln said they would park. There are practically no street lights in this part of town, and the club itself only has one large flashing neon sign out front, so the little bit of moonlight is a blessing.
I almost don’t see the car parked several yards down the side street, and as I walk down the narrow road, I have a momentary flash of panic that they just took off and left me here. But then I see it.
Tugging open the door on Chase’s side, I don’t even bother waiting for him to get out. I just give him a push, and when he slides over, I climb in next to him.
“Well?” Lincoln cranes his neck to peer back at me. “Did you get it?”
“No.”
He scowls in the darkness. “What? Why not? Dammit, Pool Girl, you owe River—”
“Yeah, I tried,” I say testily. “I didn’t do it because Iris showed up.”
Chase’s forehead wrinkles. “What?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” I shrug. “She stormed into the club and reamed him out. Apparently, he stood her up in favor of strippers.”
“Did you know they were hooking up?” Dax asks. I’m not sure who he’s addressing, but nobody answers in the affirmative.
“Anyway,” I go on, “Trent left. So if you’re serious about getting incriminating footage of him, it’s gonna have to be some other time.”
“Dammit!” Lincoln smacks a fist against the wheel. “I don’t fucking believe this.”
“Believe it.” I lean over Chase, ignoring the way his bergamot scent tickles my nostrils. “Look. That’s Iris, right there.”
I point out the windshield toward the larger street this one intersects. Several yards ahead of us, Iris wanders down that road, looking at her phone.
“Fuck.” Lincoln shakes his head. “Well, I guess we’ll—”
There’s a sudden revving sound, and a dark sedan comes out of nowhere, plowing into Iris, slamming into her at high speed before braking suddenly.
Her body flies into the air, almost straight up in a high arc.
She hits the ground hard and settles into a still lump.
So still.
Too still.
15
Lincoln’s words die like the volume has been turned off on the entire world.
There doesn’t seem to be any oxygen left in the car.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t believe what I just saw was real. It didn’t look real.
The black sedan’s door opens, and a figure dressed in black slides fluidly out of the driver’s seat. It’s a man, I think, and he swivels his head up and down the street quickly before crossing toward the prone form in front of his car.
His movements are smooth and controlled as he crouches by Iris’s body, extending a hand toward her and leaving it there for a moment. He scans the street again, and even though his gaze doesn’t land on us, I find myself involuntarily shrinking back into Chase’s body, seeking some protection from the strange, too-calm man.
And that’s when I see it.
The mask.
He’s wearing a black ski-mask pulled down tight over his head, obscuring everything but his eyes and mouth. I didn’t notice at first because the light is so dim, and my brain was trying to process too many things at once.
What?
Why…?
I feel frozen in space, my chest locked up tight, as the man stands and turns back to his vehicle. A small movement out of the corner of my eye makes me jump, and my heart slams in my ribs as Lincoln raises his phone, snapping several pictures in quick succession.
The wild, panicked part of my brain expects the masked man’s gaze to whip toward us, drawn by that tiny movement like some kind of robotic killing machine. But he just slides back into his car, closes the door, and drives around the lump on the road, speeding off into the night. His headlights aren’t even on, I realize.
They never were.
Seconds tick by, and with each passing one, my pulse picks up. My heart felt like it was barely beating as I watched the man crouch over Iris’s body, but now it’s racing in my chest, galloping at a breakneck speed, like it
