Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
The lights above the entryway click on as I approach. My reflection wavers in the black glass, just for a second, before I step onto the small porch and face the keypad.
“What?” I say out loud.
A white envelope is taped to my door. It’s sealed with a red heart sticker.
My heart races. It must be from Hawk. I mean, who else would have sent it?
Jordan, maybe, but he doesn’t know where I live.
Right. It has to be from Hawk.
Those kisses with him were amazing, like sinking into something dangerous and delicious at the same time. Like forgetting my own name and not even caring. Every time his mouth touched mine, the world blurred at the edges, and nothing existed but the heat between us and the way he held me.
I stare at the envelope, my fingers hovering just above it. My name’s not written on it, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s his kind of bold move—no return address, no explanation, just that tiny red heart, almost like a dare.
The air feels charged, like a storm’s about to roll in, even though the sky is clear. My pulse thumps in my throat as I gently peel the envelope from the door. The tape crackles. I half-expect someone to be watching from the hedges.
Whatever’s inside, it’s going to change something.
I can feel it.
My fingers tremble as I ease the flap open, careful not to tear the paper. The envelope feels too light, like it’s holding something that shouldn’t weigh anything but somehow does.
Inside is a small cheap valentine—the kind you’d hand out in third grade. A cartoon heart with a face grins up at me, but something’s wrong. The printed words say Be Mine, but someone crossed out Be in sharp strokes and written in ink, You Are.
You Are Mine.
A chill unfurls down my spine.
And when I look closer, I notice that the sender has drawn in trickles of blood coming out of the heart with red permanent marker.
My breath catches as I unfold the card.
Inside, in the same ink, it reads:
You locked the door, but you forgot—I have the key. I always have.
For a second, everything goes still. No wind, no birds, no distant hum of voices from inside the house. Just the whisper of the paper in my hand and the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears.
This isn’t from Hawk.
It’s not from Jordan either. I barely know him, but he wouldn’t do this. Not like this.
I glance at the keypad beside the door. At the perfect, silent hedges. At the lavender brushing my ankles. It all feels wrong now—too quiet, too open, too exposed. My mouth goes dry.
I scan the garden behind me, the path I just walked. Someone was here. Someone close enough to reach my door. Someone who knows about the lock. The key.
Who still has it.
I tighten my fingers around the valentine, crumpling it slightly, and for the first time since I came to the United States, I feel truly, completely afraid.
23
HAWK
Eagle’s eyes go wide, his lips trembling. “What the fuck are you saying?”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter, Eagle. There’s no body.” I tug the bandana out of the dirt. “You recognize this?”
He cocks his head. “It’s a fucking bandana. I’ve got one just like it myself.”
“You might want to keep that to yourself.”
“What you mean?”
I wave the bandana in his face. “What I mean is, Diego Vega—or whoever that dude was that night—didn’t wear anything like this.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. That night is seared into my memory like a fucking brand. And if Diego did have a bandana on him, it would’ve been tucked inside a pocket. But Diego Vega—or whoever that was that night—would have been a big drug kingpin. He might have a silk handkerchief in his pocket, but not something as common as a bandana.”
Eagle wrinkles his forehead. “So?”
“So, someone else was here, Eagle. Someone was here and already dug up this damned body. And whoever it was left his bandana behind.” I widen my eyes. “Or it was planted.”
“So we just need to find whoever is missing a bandana,” Eagle says.
I laugh. A cackling laugh. “Every cowpoke and ranch hand in Texas has a bandana like this.”
Eagle nods. “Yeah, I know.”
“Who the hell got in here and took the body? And why the hell didn’t we know about it?”
“It’s not like we ever came back here,” Eagle says.
My brother’s right. Once in a blue fucking moon he is.
Falcon, Eagle, and I stayed far away from this place. We’ve been back once or twice, but we certainly never looked hard enough. We never would’ve noticed if anything was amiss.
Indeed, nothing was amiss.
Whoever did this covered their tracks perfectly.
“It must’ve been Dad,” I say. Then I shake my head. “But he never knew about it. No one knew. Only Falcon—and he hasn’t been here—me…and you.” I glare at my brother.