“Where are you?” he snaps.
He’s not happy. He’s trying to conceal his anger, and not very well. I never should’ve called.
But I had to know.
I couldn’t resist when the answers were right in front of me.
“What’s going on, Ray?” I ask, ignoring his question. “What’s happening with King Heron?”
“Very funny.” He’s silent for several deathly seconds. “What, you’re serious? What the hell do you mean what’s going on?”
“It’s something underhanded, isn’t it? Like an open sore. Just tell me, Ray, I need to know what it is.”
“What the…” There’s a long pause and an exasperated sigh. “I told you, Val. I told you fucking everything. You really need me to go through this again?”
A sob lodges in my throat. “Yeah, I…I don’t remember.”
I pinch my lips together, muffling sheer anguish as it releases.
“Don’t remember?” he repeats, growling it.
“No. I have amnesia.”
“What? You’re shitting me. Amnesia? That’s not even a real thing. Come on, Val, what the hell are you after?” His tone grows more bewildered with every word.
There’s a long, frozen pause. My fingers dig into my palms so hard it hurts.
“I’m not kidding. The doctor says—”
“Doctor? What hospital are you at? I’m coming to get you right now.”
“I-I’m not at a hospital.” My fingers pinch together, white-knuckling the phone.
“Where do they have you, then? I told those fuckers…no, back up. I need to know where. Talk to me, Val, where did they take you?”
They?
Goosebumps rise on my arms. It’s like he has some very specific they in mind. But he can’t possibly mean Flint and Cash.
He’s referring to the men I can’t remember. The ones who want me dead.
“Val? Answer me!”
“No one has me, Ray. I’m—”
“Where?” he snarls again, cutting me off. “Dammit, sis, you’re not making sense. Just tell me and I’ll be right there.”
“I…”
“What, you don’t know?” he interrupts. “Look on the map on your phone. Open up the app. Tell me the location.”
I know he can’t see me, but I shake my head. I don’t need to look at the Google app to know where I’m at.
And I don’t need to invite more disaster to Flint’s happy doorstep. No, I’m not telling him.
I just press a hand to my head, wishing I’d never called.
“Valerie, look. I’m sorry, I just don’t…amnesia? What the fuck? Then how do you even know who I am?”
For a second, I wonder why it took him so long to ask. He clearly believes someone has me, holding me hostage. I’m sure of it. But he’s never mentioned calling the police once.
“It’s not like you think. I only remember bits and pieces,” I say, refusing to give him more.
“Have you called Mother yet?”
“No. I was going to but—”
“Don’t call her!” he snaps. “She doesn’t know anything. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Neither do I!” I clamp my lips together, but it’s too late.
Crap. I shouldn’t have said it out loud. There goes whatever leverage I might have.
He’s breathing heavy, the rough draw of his breath rippling over the speaker.
I swallow, wishing so hard I’d never called him.
Heck, I won’t even blame Flint if he tries to take my phone away after this. I don’t even trust myself with it anymore.
Trouble is, I can’t just hang up. I don’t know what to do.
“Look at your map, Val. Just look. What does the app say?”
“I-I don’t—”
“You have to know! It’s a Google map, for fuck’s sake.” He swears several more times, and then says, “Fine. Just punch in Honolulu and tell me how far away you are.”
I stare at the screen like there’s a snake coiled up inside hankering to bite my face off. This can’t be happening.
If I can’t think of something to throw him off—and fast—this whole nightmare spins so far out of control I’ll never wake up.
8
Broken Wing (Flint)
I should be grateful that the truth is out.
That I no longer have to lie through my teeth, or ask Bryce to lie, too, pretending Val’s his stepmom, but somehow, it hasn’t made anything about this shit situation any easier.
She’d been comfortable before, thinking I was her man. Now, she’s just on edge. I could tell while we were down by the beach and hanging out in the kitchen. She’s unsure how to act.
That makes two of us.
Fuck.
“Your turn, Dad!” Bryce says, staring at the huge TV.
We’re in the home theater room I’d built for him and stocked with plenty of games.
Unable to sit still any longer, I hand him my controller. “You take my turn, son. You’re better at this than me.”
“You aren’t concentrating today. You keep getting caught. Is it her?” The kid isn’t stupid.
“Nah, nothing particular, kiddo,” I tell him. “Just my brain getting yanked around like a yo-yo. Too many distractions lately.”
I ruffle his hair as I stand up and walk to the window. Val was sitting in a lounge chair on the lanai a few minutes ago, last I saw her, but now she’s standing next to the brick wall, white-knuckling the phone to her ear.