The Chase

“How did he want you to help him?” His silky question should have been her first clue that he wasn’t buying her BS.

“He wants me to talk to her, convince her that he’s really a good guy and—”

“Are you fucking serious? Pike called you—by the way, how did he get your number?—and said, ‘Hey, come on over because we’re such good friends’”—Beck snorted—“‘so I can convince you to lie to my girlfriend?’”

While she gawked mutely and tried to formulate her next line of crap, Seth stormed to the island and swiped her phone. “She got a text from Pike twelve minutes ago.”

“What does it say?” Beck looked ready to rip someone’s head off, preferably Pike’s.

“‘Here’s my number. Call me when you need me.’”

Beck’s hand in her hair tightened. “You said he needed you. Why the fuck would he think you need him for anything?”

She met their stare straight on. “Nothing about my intentions are negative or deceitful. In fact, I’ve gone out of my way not to hurt you. I can’t say more than that.”

When her words hit Seth’s brain, his temper snapped. He told himself to fucking count to ten and get a grip, but nothing inside him wanted reason or logic right now. He wanted Pike’s blood and her honesty, preferably in that order.

In his pocket, his phone rang.

At the unexpected noise, Heavenly jumped.

Seth didn’t answer it; nothing was more important than him and Beck prying the truth from their girl. Without it, they had no fucking future.

Before he could remind her of that, the damn device rang again. With a curse, he yanked it free and glanced at the screen. River.

He stabbed at the device to answer. “This better be life-or-death.”

“Sorry. I hate to interrupt your…whatever. Please don’t give me details. But this guy just left. He talked like he was from another time or something. He was both creepy and insistent as hell. He sent my ick meter off the charts, so I thought you should know.”

“Potential client?”

“No. He acted like he knew you. He said to tell you to give your friend Gideon—and I’m quoting here—this message: ‘They’re coming for you. They’ll make what they did to that whore in Vegas look like a picnic.’ Any idea what that shit means?”

Seth scowled. Gloria? “No. Did this dude leave his name?”

“He refused. No name, no number, no address. But something wasn’t right about him. Actually, a whole lot wasn’t right about him.”

“He’s probably some whack job, then. I don’t know anyone named Gideon, so I certainly can’t tell the guy that anyone has found him and all the rest.”

“What?” Beck barked, releasing Heavenly and grabbing for the phone. “Give it to me. Give me the fucking phone.”

Seth scowled and handed the device over. “What crawled up your ass?”

Beck ignored him and pressed the phone to his ear. “Tell me exactly what this fucker looked like and what he said.”

He couldn’t hear River’s reply, but as his junior PI rambled on, Beck grew pale. Blindly, he groped for a chair, looking weak-kneed. “Jesus. Oh, shit… Get out of there. Right now.”

“We’re supposed to be open for another forty-five minutes and—”

“You want to live? Get out.”

Beck’s tone alarmed the hell out of Seth. “What’s going on, man?”

Even Heavenly approached and laid gentle fingers on him. “Beck?”

Nothing shocked Seth more than when Beck shoved her hand away, then turned to him with wild eyes. “Get her out of here. Take her somewhere safe. Anywhere.”

“Dude—”