Page 65 of Bloodstained Wings
“About what, exactly?”
“About me working with Killian Hughes.”
I practically crush my phone into my flexing palm. “Tell me where you are right now.”
The line goes silent, and I think of my next move if he decides to keep her away from me again.
I’m going to hurt Lilian, and I’ll go after mayor-dearest, and then I’ll save Rich Donahue for last.
Just so he knows I’m coming, there’s no running from me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabella
Rich’s penthouse is quiet, brightly lit, and has a wonderful view of the harbor. He’s offered me one of the extra rooms to freshen up in. The bed sits near the window, and the shower runs hot water like rain in a thunderstorm. I know I’m bruised from the collision on the sidewalk, and Carter won’t be pleased with that, but otherwise, I’m unharmed.
I’m just utterly and entirely exhausted.
I curl into the bed, tracing the lines of the sun that reflect and bounce off the windows of the buildings in the city. It’s like a prism of sorts, and I can’t watch it enough. The knock on the door does steal my focus, though, and I turn over to see Rich holding a bowl of fruit and something to drink.
“Here, I figured you’d need this,” he sighs.
I down the water almost instantly, tasting the fizzy, seltzer-like texture of the liquid. It’s a bit bitter, but it’s cold, so I ignore the taste long enough to pick at the fruit he’s offered.
“Thank you,” I reply.
“You’re welcome, Isabella. Do you feel better after your shower and everything?”
“Yeah, I do. Thank you for offering me this room until Carter gets here. I appreciate it a lot, Rich.”
“Oh, don’t mention it. I actually just spoke to Carter.”
My back straightens with his claim. “Really? Is he okay? Did they release him, or is she getting booked?”
He shakes his head, sitting on the edge of the bed where I can almost make out the green of his eyes. He looks just like Jacob Lacey but softer around the edges. Maybe a bit heavier, but definitely with more muscle. Jacob was scrawnier, and while Rich Donahue isn’t exactly a muscleman, he’s lean and built well enough to protect himself.
After seeing his men on the sidewalk earlier, I doubt he needs to protect himself that often.
“I wanted to talk to you about something, Isabella.”
My eyes nearly cross, sweat building on the back of my neck. “What is it?”
And why didn’t he answer anything about Carter?
“It’s about Lilian. You know about her, right?”
“The journalist,” I sigh, shaking my head in disgust. “It’s a sore subject in our house still. He doesn’t tell me much, but I have a hunch. Why? What do you know about her?”
“I know she’s got dirt on Carter.”
“Well, that’s not important. He’s not running against Killian, Rich. He lost the election. Who cares what she digs up on, Carter? She doesn’t seem to want to hurt his reputation. She was just at the hospital trying to get a story on his contributions to the city. The only disparaging thing she’s written is probably that article about you and me.”
He bows his head slightly. “Yeah, that’s right, Isabella. She’s not going after Carter, exactly. She’s going afteryou.”
I hold back a snicker, the task in itself a little tiring, while my eyelids feel like bricks. I fight to keep them open, though, knowing my exhaustion is due to the events last night.
“She’s trying to hurt me. Over what, then?”