Page 89 of Boys Who Hunt
“I was just trying to—” I frown, interrupting my own train of thought. “Wait, how did you know I was there?”
“You think you’re the only one who knows how to track people?” He smiles. “You led me right to her.”
My jaw drops. “That phone tracker.”
He taps my forehead. “Guess that fucking brain is finally working again after all that pussy.”
I can’t believe he put an actual tracker on my bike.
“I trusted you,” he says, leaning up, releasing my wrists, but his words hurt more than his hands ever could. “And look where it led me. Right into that thief’s apartment.” He averts his eyes. “I thought you were a friend, that I could fucking trust you.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat. “You can.”
His sharp gaze finds mine again. “Then tell me why she needs that money.”
I lick my lips. I don’t want to ruin what I have with Ivy. It’s too important. But I know Heath wants more information, and I don’t know what to do.
He shakes his head as he gets up off my bed. “Thought so.”
“She doesn’t have it anymore. She’s telling the truth,” I say, trying to offer at least something.
“Right …” he says. “And I’m supposed to believe that how?”
“Because I told you,” I say, sitting up straight.
“Like you haven’t lied to me before,” he says.
My brows draw together. “I haven’t.”
“Hm…”
He looks away and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Then who is Cora?”
Fuck. He heard us talk about her?
“Her neighbor,” I lie.
I promised Ivy I wouldn’t mention Cora. I can’t break this promise too.
“She didn’t want to talk to you… about her neighbor?”
I shrug. “It’s complicated.”
His eyes narrow and the pause that follows makes it feel like my bed just got turned into an ice bath. But he swiftly averts them again, as his fingers caress his own lips, like he’s savoring the taste of something he ate.
“She said she was falling for you, didn’t she?”
A blush creeps onto my cheeks. “I don’t know if—”
His eyes suddenly find mine in a split second. “Are you in love with her?”
I gape at him, as I don’t even know how to respond to that.
“Thought so,” he says, fishing a key from his pocket.
The same key I placed on her kitchen counter before I left her apartment.