Wicked and True (Wicked & Devoted 4)

Struggling to her feet, Tessa made her way to the living room, tossed on her bathrobe, and paced the darkened room. But as she ran through the scenario again, trying desperately to study the situation from another angle to find another solution, she ran into the same brick walls.

She was trapped.

From across the room, her phone rang. Tessa dashed for it, hoping it was Zy. That he wanted to come back. That he wanted to talk. That he’d changed his mind about the mission.

When she lifted the device, it was her private caller instead.

Tessa sucked in a shaky breath to steady herself. “Yes?”

“Time’s up, Mama. Do you have information for us or is it a permanent nighty-night for this precious baby of yours?”

She snapped. “How can you threaten an innocent child? What did she ever do to you? What did I ever do?”

“Nothing,” he acknowledged with the gravity of someone talking about the weather. “But I can do anything I have to in order to stay alive and one step ahead of the cops.”

“You’re putting your”—terrible, scummy, criminal—“existence ahead of a baby’s?”

“If you’re trying to appeal to my sense of honor or humanity, I don’t have either. It’s a kill-or-be-killed world. The sooner you figure that out, the sooner you’ll be able to protect yourself and your daughter…provided you make the right decisions and earn her back. Speaking of which, do you have the information we need?”

About Kimber’s rescue. About when and where it was going down. About who would be putting themselves in mortal danger to free the bosses’ sister.

Tessa clutched her phone tighter. “Yes.”

“Did you download the Abuzz app?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your username?”

Dutifully, she rattled it off. A moment later, she heard a ding.

“That should be the notification that I’ve requested to be your friend. Accept me, then DM me the information.”

“And if I do? If I betray everyone else in my life and I have nothing more to give you, will you finally return my daughter?”

“We’ll see. My associates and I aren’t convinced this will solve our Edgington-Muñoz problem. If it does, I’ll bring her back right away. If not…we’ll be in touch, and you’ll have to figure out how to tell us what we need to know.”

The three beeps in her ear told her the asshole had ended the call. Impotent fury zipped through her. Misery chased it. Was there any end in sight to this fucking nightmare?

With trembling fingers, Tessa opened the app. Her legs felt weak as she stumbled to the sofa, accidentally tripping over the corner of the nearby chair and catching her toe on something soft and squeaky. She flipped on the small lamp of the nearby end table and lifted the object she’d unwittingly kicked out from under the skirt.

Hallie’s little stuffed pink elephant. The one she loved to chew on. The one she’d been missing for two days before her disappearance.

Oh, god.

Hot, scalding tears stung her eyes and poured down her cheeks again, agonizing and uncontrollable. They fell onto the toy, staining it with acidic drops and running mascara.

Tessa bit back a cry and swiped at her cheeks, sniffled, and cuddled the little stuffed animal to her chest as if it could bring her closer to her baby. It still smelled like her daughter, fresh and sweet with that hint of baby still clinging.

A million times she’d seen Hallie hold the elephant, kiss it, gnaw on it, or nap with it. She’d give anything to see her little girl happy and smiling and holding this plushie again.

The cost to see her wish come true was reprehensibly high.

It’s a kill-or-be-killed world.

Tessa had no choice but to pay the cost.

“Hang on, baby. Mommy will do whatever it takes to bring you back.”

Despite knowing she’d made the only choice she could, Tessa wept uncontrollably when she opened the app, typing out everything she knew about Kimber’s rescue, and hit Enter, most likely consigning Zy to death.

After leaving Tessa’s house, Zy returned to his apartment and drank—to blunt his anger, to dull his pain. He wished like hell sleep would come, but he sat on the sofa with one hand around the neck of his whiskey bottle while he replayed the night in his head.

So much searing pleasure. So much goddamn agony. Tears he didn’t fucking want stung his eyes.

Whoever sang “Love Hurts” hadn’t been kidding. It burned and ached like a bitch. There was nowhere to go to escape. He had to endure it like an injury, minute by minute, day by day, until hopefully, maybe, he healed someday.

Right now that didn’t feel possible.

How could Tessa hand-deliver him to the enemy for an early death? Sure, she’d cried and begged him not to go on the mission she’d probably known would lead to a grave. But she hadn’t been sorry enough to confess her sins.

Maybe he shouldn’t be shocked. After all, how many times had he told that woman he loved her? Too many to count. She’d never once said the words back to him.