Page 107

“Look at me. Now.”

Her eyes pinch shut for a moment before they open, and those pretty caramel eyes glide to mine. They’re full of fear, and I’m almost surprised.

In the dark, she comes alive with fire. As if it’s the night that feeds her flames and not oxygen. And in daylight, she’s timid and scared. She becomes her moniker—a meek little mouse.

“If you’ve never taken me seriously before, then do it now, Adeline.” Her eyes widen at the severity of my tone. “You’re going to sit there like a good little girl and play along until I can convince Mark to leave. Then and only then, you can pack up your shit and go home. Do you understand?”

There it is.

The fire sparks and ignites.

“Fine. At least tell me what the fuck is happening, Zade. Or Zack. Which is your real name? You know what, I don’t care. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but after this, you need to leave me out of it.”

I lean forward and give her a wa

rning look. She snaps her mouth shut, but the flames never dull.

“I. Tried,” I bite out. “I will try to leave with Mark as soon as I can, but until then, do as I fucking say. We're super in love and you're my doting little girlfriend. That's all you need to know right now.”

Her eyes widen gradually until she’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. What she doesn’t realize is I did lose my fucking mind the second I laid eyes on her, and I haven’t gotten it back yet.

“What is this, Zade?” she asks quietly. “Is Mark dangerous? Why are you lying to him?”

I sigh. “Yes,” I concede. “He is dangerous, and he set his sights on you.”

Before she can question me further, Mark returns, a jolly smile on his flushed face.

“No drink?” he questions, sauntering up to the table with his arms outstretched.

“My fault. I got a little carried away with my hello kiss,” I lie, grinning a cheesy smile. The thought of me making out with my girl in public clearly gets him hot and bothered by the flash of heat in his eyes, but he covers it well enough with a hearty laugh.

Addie clears her throat, elbowing me hard in the side and offering an embarrassed smile.

“What is it you were working on, Adeline dear?” Mark asks, settling back into the chair and gulping down a large swallow of his bourbon.

“Uh, a few things. I was researching a cold case from the ‘40s,” she answers.

Mark cocks a brow. “Really? Why’s that?”

The red in her cheeks brightens. “Uh, well it’s my great-grandmother’s actually. Genevieve Parsons.”

“Oh, I know that case!” Mark exclaims. "My father was a detective during that time, though he wasn't allowed to work the case.”

By the way her brows raise, her interest has been piqued. "He wasn't allowed to? How come?"

"Conflict of interest. He and John Parsons were best friends for twenty years, and Gigi was a good friend of his. His sergeant said it'd be too personal, so he had to stand by and watch them butcher the case." He shrugs. "Dad always thought John was the one who did it."

Addie leans forward, hanging on Mark’s every word. “Your father was Frank?”

Mark quirks a brow. “Yes, he was.”

Addie clears her throat. “My Nana mentioned Frank a time or two.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, we played together when we were younger.”

“So, why did your father think John did it?”

Mark shrugs a shoulder. “Not sure, to be honest, but I do remember that Gigi and John were fighting a lot. He was real adamant, but there wasn’t any evidence to prove it. I was pretty young back then, so my memory might be a little sparse. But there were a few nights he would drink an entire bottle of Jack, always muttering under his breath about making "him" pay for what happened.” He finger quotes the word him. “I know their friendship fell apart after her murder. John was a raging alcoholic, and my dad was devastated that he lost two good friends."