“I should go now then so you can take a nap before going into work.”
She nods. “I plan on it. I had fun today, Callie. We should do this again.”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling like I’m lying right through my teeth. “We should.” Do the spa day again but leave the whole getting shot thing out.
“It was nice to see you again,” Abby says to Easton, putting on a polite smile. I’m still too frazzled right now to remember if she knows the whole story about Easton. She remembers him from ten years or so, I’m sure. I was sixteen and came back to Chicago for the first time in years after Tabatha took me in.
I wanted to spend a few weeks with my sister. She was the only one out of the whole Martin bunch who treated me well, who loved me, and who protested against William Martin sending me off to that laboratory. But as soon as our so-called father saw me walking through the gates of the family estate, he set up a fancy internship for Abby that probably broke hospital protocol, now that I’m thinking about it. I suppose that didn’t matter. Money talks, after all.
It was the breaking point for me, and at the time, I saw it as Abby choosing the Martins over me. From then on, I didn’t talk to Abby again, not until she showed up at my bookstore months ago with an invitation to Penny’s party.
I was stuck with the Martins for several weeks. Tabatha and Evander took a holiday to visit family, and I couldn’t go home until they returned. And then I met Easton, the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. He was the definition of trouble and that was part of my attraction to him.
If it pissed William Martin off—sign me up! I fell hard the way teenage girls with emotional scars do, and it didn’t take long to become friends with Easton’s sister, Melinda. Flash forward several weeks and our relationship came to a screeching halt when I found out Easton knew all along I was a witch, and he only pretended to care about me to get close and come in for the kill.
“You too,” Easton tells her. “I’ll walk out with you, Callie.”
I give Abby a hug, take one last look around the house to make sure nothing it out of place, and then grab my purse, step back into my shoes, and leave through the front door.
“Where’s your car?” Easton asks me once we’re on the sidewalk.
“I walked from Lucas’s place. It’s only one street over, and yes, it’s just a coincidence. It’s funny, actually, because Abby and Phil moved here so they wouldn’t live by vampires anymore.”
Easton nods. “How did Roger know you were here?”
“I wondered that too. The first time he attacked, it was here. The vampire who hired him would be the one to send him here, I’d think. I don’t know how hiring a hit man works. I usually do the killing myself and it’s not always thought out ahead of time.”
“Whoever hired him knew you were a witch, so they were watching you beforehand.”
“I am so tired of being spied on,” I huff and turn back, looking at Abby’s house. Even though we’ve become closer than ever before, I don’t go over and hang out at her house. It’s not a regular spot to wait for me, and if Roger was going to stake out a house in Lincoln Park, Lucas’s place on North Orchard would be the one.
But Lucas would also be inside.
We already know that Roger wasn’t the best hunter and was hired on purpose, knowing he’d miss. His best chance of getting me was to catch me off guard, as he did, and I wasn’t fast enough to chase him down…but Lucas is.
“It was all set up on purpose,” I say, pace slowing. “He was told to go after me here instead of Lucas’s house. Lucas doesn’t really go over to Abby’s house, and without him around, I’m an easier target.”
“Yeah, that would make sense.” I can feel Easton’s eyes on me as we stop at the street corner. “You’re not really a Martin,” he states, but I can hear the question in his voice.
“Right.”
“But the world still thinks you are. It’s common knowledge you and Abby are related. You two have recently reconnected. If you’re being watched, your friends and family probably are too.”
“Well, fuck,” I huff. “I don’t have time for some elaborate blackmail. This vampire needs to stop pulling a Charles Manson and having people do his dirty work for him. Just attack me already so I can kill him and get it over with.”
“I’m sure that’s part of why he’s not attacking you himself. You’re, uh, pretty badass, Callie. And now you’re married to one of the oldest vampires in the Midwest area.”