Page 72 of Poison Pen
“What I need?” he snarled, swishing the knife back and forth erratically. “What I fuckin’ need? I’ll tell you what I need!”
I backed up as quickly as my restrained body would allow, but it wasn’t far or fast. My feet tangled in the legs of the chair as I moved, making me trip and sending me tumbling to the floor.
Still tied to the goddamn chair.
Javier stood over me, his face shadowed as he laughed at me, where I struggled on my side, trying to right myself like a stranded turtle.
“What I need, pretty boy, is for that mouthy cunt of a tattoo artist to pick up the phone when you call.” Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Javier held up my cell phone, swinging it back and forth in front of my face until he was able to unlock it with the facial recognition. “What I need is for her to come down here when I tell her to and to finish what she started.”
Spitting in my face, Javier straightened, landing a solid kick to my ribs before he turned and headed back the way he had come.
“Then,” he added cryptically. “I’m gonna fucking finish her.”
Chapter forty
Ricki
Hewasstillmissing.
The cops had come and gone, taking statements and getting a time line before telling us they’d be in touch if they heard anything. It seemed so pointless; how could two police officers stand there and tell us that they weredoing everything they couldto find him, when they didn’t even know where to start looking?
New York was a big city, and Asher could be anywhere.
But we’d find him, I knew we would.
I refused to even consider any other possibility.
It was getting late, the early setting winter sun making everything feel even more ominous as the time ticked by with no new information from the police about Asher, good or bad.
His brother, Thane, had arrived in record time because he had driven like a madman across two states to get here. Now he and Easton were huddled together in the corner of the restaurant—the restaurant that had barely been open for a day before Easton shut the doors again while he focused on finding his friend.
My own shop sat empty and dark while I sat at the bar inSmoke and Ashes—the same bar that Asher had pressed me up against the first time we’d kissed—a glass of Dunn Creek Whiskey in my hand as I let my mind wander over the time I had spent with Asher and all the bullshit I had let get in my way.
Why was it that you didn’t realize how incredible someone was until you were faced with never seeing them again? Asher had proven time and again that he was the kind of man you could rely on. The kind of man to stick around when times got tough and work with you, not against you, to achieve things as a team.
That’s how I knew that no matter what stupid crap I’d managed to convince myself to say on Halloween night, Asher hadn’t left by choice. He’d never abandon Easton like that, and I was starting to believe that he’d never abandon me, either.
The sharp ringing of a phone cut through my thoughts and I stood from the bar, making my way over to where the guys were sitting as Easton hastily answered the call.
“Yes. This is he.” Easton listened for a moment, his brows pulled low, before he sucked in a breath, his head shooting up to look at me, and his eyes filled with worry. “Alright. Yes, thank you. Please let us know as soon as you know anything.”
Ending the call, Easton took a big breath while Thane and I both waited in tense anticipation.
“They found Asher’s truck,” Easton said, and my heart pounded in my chest. Had he been in an accident? Is that what happened? Why he hadn’t called?
My spinning thoughts were ended when Easton went on.
“It was abandoned in some shitty alley in The Bronx.”
The Bronx.
Something dark and angry start swirling in my guts at his words, and as the pieces started to come together, I felt the anger and rage start to replace the worry that had been festering in my system.
“What about Asher?” Thane asked before I could, mostly because my throat was so tight, I couldn’t force the words out if I’d tried. “Did they say where he was? Was he hurt?”
“They didn’t find him,” Easton went on, tossing his phone down in frustration. “Just the truck. It looked like it had been taken for a joy ride or something. The keys were still in the ignition, but the seats had been slashed with a knife, and the sides had been spray painted.”
I swallowed, my hand reaching for the pendant at my throat as I replayed another scene of destruction, another time when someone had ruined something just because I’d been involved.