Page 32 of Bird on a Blade (Hunter’s Heart #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

EDIE

T wo days later, I’m back in the cabin on the old campgrounds, with its electricity and central heating and designer furniture. This time, though, Sawyer’s with me.

I lean up against the counter, squeezing my phone in one hand. My heart pounds in my chest. It took two days for me to work up the courage to call Scott, and I decided that if I was going to go through with this then I needed to do it here in the cabin. Who knows what Silicon Valley tech bro bullshit he has that can track my phone. I don’t want him showing up at Sawyer’s church with a SWAT team.

I take a long, deep breath. Sawyer is beside me, watching me, not saying anything. I asked him to be here with me while I do this. Even though it’s just a phone call. Even though there’s a chance Scott won’t even pick up.

He’ll pick up . He wants this resolved. I know him. If there’s anything I know about him, it’s how controlling he is. How focused.

It never occurred to me before, but it does now—I’m probably not the first person he’s tried to kill .

“You need to call him,” Sawyer says softly. “Get him out here as quick as you can.”

“I know.” I’ve already gone through all the arguments in my head, and I know this is the best way. Scott wants me dead or controlled. He’ll pay off any authorities he needs to see that happens.

“The weather’s turning,” Sawyer says. “A nor’easter’s gonna come through soon. If we can time it to the storm, that’ll work in our favor.”

“A nor’easter—” I shake my head. “How can you possibly know that?”

Sawyer shrugs. “Same way I know when you’re in trouble, perfect prey.” He cups the side of my neck so he can pull me toward him, an embrace I happily accept. He kisses my forehead. “I just sense things. Now call this piece of shit and say what you need to say to get him out here.”

I nod against his head, then swipe open my phone. Unblock Scott’s number. My hands shake the whole time, but Sawyer keeps massaging my neck, his touch reassuring.

I take one more deep breath.

And then I call up Scott on the speaker phone.

It rings twice. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, and I stare down at his name on my phone, Scott Hensner, how I put it in when I first met him at a gala just after college. Like he’s a business contact.

On the third ring, he answers.

“Edie.” His voice is flat, emotionless. “There you are.”

I look over at Sawyer. He doesn’t look like my Sawyer. He looks like a killer.

“Scott.” I clear my throat and hold the phone close to my lips. “I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You know I’ve been looking for you.” His voice tilts somewhat and takes on a faked layer of concern. “I was worried about what had happened to you. ”

“Is that why you hired that PI?”

A pause on the other end. I decided, and Sawyer agreed, that it was best to pretend that I had seen the first PI but not the second. And Scott’s pause lasts long enough I suspect he’s formulating his own lie.

“Of course, Edie. Although I’m curious why you didn’t listen to what he had to say.”

Does Scott know that I know he wants to kill me? I can’t overthink this. Scott is cruel and shallow, but he isn’t stupid. It’s that combination that made him his millions.

“He said you wanted me to come home.”

“I do.”

He answered too quickly. Trying to cover his tracks.

“I’m not ready for that.”

Sawyer watches me as I speak. His expression is unreadable. He almost doesn’t even look human.

“Then why are you calling me?”

“I’m willing to talk. But you did try to kill me, and you can’t do that over the phone.”

Another long pause. I almost think I’ve miscalculated until Scott says, “I wasn’t going to kill you that night. Not really. You know that. Otherwise, you would have gone to the police.”

I tighten my grip on the phone. This is the in I need. “You scared me, Scott. But no, I didn’t want you arrested. You’re my husband.”

I nearly choke on the word husband . I certainly can’t bring myself to look at Sawyer when I say it, although I feel him looming beside me, his presence predatory.

“I actually do want us to talk face-to-face,” I say. “But on my territory, not yours. I think that’s only fair.”

Scott sighs. “And what territory is that? The camp in Virginia? Because my boys went out there and didn’t come back.”

I freeze. Sawyer puts his hand on my arm, steadying me. I had planned for this. “Boys? ”

“Men, whatever.”

“No.” I pray he doesn’t hear the tremor in my voice. “I only met one man. Blond. I don’t remember his name. I spoke to him for a few minutes before I asked him to leave.”

The line crackles. There’s a long, agonizing moment of silence. “What are you playing at, Edie?”

“Nothing.” Maybe I answer too fast. I can hardly breathe. “I would ask the same of you, but I already know the answer. Here’s what I will tell you, Scott. I’m willing to forgive you for what you did. Because—” I take a deep breath. “Because you’re right. I’m not healthy. I let myself go. I realize that now.” I swallow back a surge of bile, as if speaking those words will undo two years of recovery. “I’ll lose the weight. I’ll move home. But not without some ground rules.”

Sawyer stares at the phone with a violent intensity that both terrifies me and flushes my body with heat.

“And that’s what you want to discuss on your territory?” Scott’s words drip with sarcasm.

“Of course it is, Scott. I won’t be some battered wife. But I can spare you the financial hit of a divorce.”

This time, Scott makes a sort of hmm sound that fills the silence. “You signed a prenup.”

“And my family has better lawyers than you, Scott. Old money lawyers.”

He laughs, and the bitterness in it tells me I’ve won. I relax against the counter a little. Even though the cabin is cold, with the heat turned down low, sweat slicks across my skin.

“Maybe I want the divorce,” he says coolly—a lie and both of us know it. I roll my eyes.

“Then you wouldn’t have sent a PI to find me.”

The silence on his end is telling; he knows, and thinks I don’t, that the PI was really an assassin. And what is there to say to that? I can feel him thinking, cold and calculating. This is his one chance to do me in. He just needs a push .

“I’ve kept quiet about what you did,” I tell him. “But if you won’t talk to me like a goddamn adult, then I’m taking the whole story to the New York Times . You know I’ve got the connections.”

Sawyer’s eyes flick up to me in surprise.

“I’m serious, Scott. You trying to fucking murder me with your bare hands will be everywhere in twenty-four hours if you don’t come here so we can work this out.”

I hold my breath, waiting for his response. The truth is that if I did do that, Scott would pay an exorbitant amount of money to bury the story and make me look like a fool in the process. He would humiliate me worse than I’ve already experienced—and I’ve experienced a lot.

But it would be costly. And time-consuming.

And deep down, I know he wants me dead.

Just like how I want him dead. A gift for my serial killer.

“Fine,” Scott says. “I’ll book the next flight out. Tomorrow, at the earliest.”

I look over at Sawyer. He has a hunger in his eyes. A dark smile on his lips.

He nods.

“That’s Halloween,” I tell him.

“Well, then I’ll wear a fucking costume. What do you want from me, Edie?”

“You don’t need to wear a costume.”

“Are you still at that old fat camp?”

“Yeah.”

He laughs, cold and bitter. “What were you thinking with that, by the way?”

I look at Sawyer, who stands a few feet from me, silent and still, looking very much like the monster I saw fifteen years ago. The monster who gave me comfort. I thought I was coming here to hide from Scott, but really, I wonder if I was coming to find Sawyer.

“It just felt right,” I say, and then I hang up the phone.