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She squeezed my fingers. “That’s the kind of man I want for you, Fal. One who cherishes every part of you. Nothing else about him matters.”
“Truly?” I hesitated before rushing out, “Even if the man were older than I was?”
“The only thing the man who captures your heart has to do is to make certain that after he makes my daughter fall in love with him that she never doubts it.” Mama leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
Now, as I scoot past some of my fellow classmates, I ignore the vibration in my jacket pocket. The important people in my life know where I am and what I’m doing. If it’s Mama and it’s an emergency, she will call.
With that, I whip out my laptop and begin to take notes on St. Jerome’s oil on wood by Da Vinci at the Vatican.
Two hours later, I’m saving my notes when I recall the frantic buzzing at the beginning of my lecture. Hoping it’s just another news alert about my best friend, I’m shocked at the message on my Lock Screen:
Ethan:
Are you ignoring me, witch?
CHAPTER SIX
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Rumor has it that indie goddess Erzulie—a.k.a. Kylie Miles—doesn’t have to work another day in her life based on the amount she inherited from her sister, Leanne. That amount was made public with the final filing of the stock transfer on behalf of the Castor Trust. However, Erzulie continues to dedicate herself to her music.
The real question is which Erzulie will be showing up at the Grammys? Will it be the seasoned performer or the woman rightfully still in the throes of grief?
—StellaNova
I fall face first on my bed and groan, grateful to be back home and in the comfort of my own apartment. When I agreed to return the favor for the Agency running the tests on behalf of Austyn and Fallon—setting up a shitstorm of an investigation at their old college—who fucking knew the favor I’d be asked to assist with would take so fucking long? Especially when I had limited access to every person I knew—including my family—as I lived under an assumed name while I was spending the better part of a month in the picturesque town of Silverthorn, New Hampshire, trying to fly beneath the radar of the paparazzi as they descended like vultures after the death of CEO and world-renowned white hat, Leanne Miles.
Having met Leanne professionally and collaborated with her company, Castor, on a few contracts for the Department of Defense since I left the navy, I’m one of the many members of the tech community collectively reeling at the implications of her murder.
Even before that, my father’s massive coronary directly as a result of my sister confronting him as a result of a lifetime of lies he subjected her to, a holiday where my sister rekindled her relationship with her daughter’s father, and my niece grew closer to her father every second she spent with him, I was grateful to put Texas behind me for a few weeks.
The second I received the call from my former boss just after the first of the year, I knew why I was sent to hunt any and all information I could in Leanne’s hometown as there are any number of national agencies and international enemies eager to determine not only the cause of her death but also unearth what secrets would be available to the highest bidder. And they all wanted to cast the blame on each other as quickly as possible.
But things never stayed clean when the Agency was involved. I practically snarled over the phone at the big man behind the desk when he admitted, “I need you to do more than just your normal sweep.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of my agents went missing the day of Leanne Miles’ funeral.”
“What the fuck were they even doing there?” I scrubbed my hand over my face as I sat in the small, nondescript motel room in Silverthorn. “You’re determined to give me a damn coronary, just like my father, aren’t you?”
“Hopefully you’re in better shape than that bastard.”
“Fuck you. Now, why was your agent here?”
“Watching what went down in Silverthorn at Leanne Miles’ funeral.”
“And?” Knowing there was more to follow.
“Someone tried to run them off the road.” In response, a deep snarl of disgust erupted from my chest, something the man on the other end of the line approved of.
“How many did they get?”
“Cleanup crew found three. I need to know if there were more.”
“Do you think there are?”
“Does it matter what I think? I need to know.”