Page 33 of Dead Bled Ringer
It had taken me one second after Hunter told me about Henry’s little blackmail scheme to know exactly who could help me.
Our destination was my best friend Jasper Sinclair’s penthouse suite in town.
Even though it was late at night, I knew Jasper was a night owl, and would still be awake, so I sent him a text on Hunter’s phone as we pulled down a dark city street and Hunter parked in between two massive Mercedes.
Jasper was my age, pale-skinned, with messy light brown hair and an auburn moustache. He was shaped a bit like a bowling pin, and we’d been best friends ever since struggling through a cycling class in college together.
He buzzed us up, and appeared in the doorway in a beautiful silky bathrobe.
“Shh, Terrell is asleep,” he said, “I swear, that man is like a machine. He’ll be up at 5 am, wanting to make me some noxious green smoothie.”
Then he saw Hunter and instantly shook his head.
“Hell no.Hell no. Baby doll,youare always welcome, but I told youHenryis not!”
“This isn’t Henry,” I said. “It’s his twin brother, Hunter. Hunter, this is my best friend Jasper. He’s a cybersecurity professional.”
Hunter stuck out his hand.
“We’ve met,” he said. “At your friend Rachel’s wedding last summer. Henry didn’t want to go, so he sent me.”
Jasper’s eyes bugged out and I felt like I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Henry had been so sweet on that trip, too. Dancing on the floor with me for hours, even staying after to help box up the wedding cake.
If that had been Hunter,what else had been Hunter?
I didn’t want to think about that.
“Well, if you’re Hunter, then come in.”
How many times had Henry outsourced doing things with me to Hunter?
I knew that had been the first time he’d fucked me, becauseHenrynever fucked like that. But what other mundane, daily memories had been Hunter?
My stomach turned over uncomfortably.
“What’s the problem?” Jasper asked when we were seated around his kitchen table. His penthouse was a mix of his and Terrell’s styles—Terrell’s love of the sleek and modern, and Jasper’s love of thrift story doilies.
“Henry has been secretly recording us having sex and using it as blackmail material to make Hunter do what he wants. How can I stop him?"
“What a creepy little rat face,” Jasper said. “Let me grab my laptop. What’ve you done so far?”
“I’ve done everything I can think of,” Hunter said, running a hand through his dark hair until it stuck straight up from his head.
Even casual motions like this betrayed how different he was from Henry—my husband would never have any worry or anxiety like this over me.
“I’ve broken into his office multiple times. Searched all his damn filing cabinets. Taken every fucking flash drive I saw. But I never seemed to find the damn things. I don’t know how many copies he has. I don’t know how many flash drives I’d have to destroy. I’ll go back, though. As many times as I need to make sure he can’t do this to her anymore.”
Hunter folded his hands together on the table, and I saw a muscle throb in his jaw. There was a slight tremble to his hands,and the muscles pulsed in his big forearms. Like he was holding himself back with a massive effort.
Hunter had done all that forme?
Jasperhmpheddisapprovingly, then turned back to his laptop.
“Baby, you might look like a snack, but you are clearly not the brains of the operation. Sit down and let Daddy handle this.”
“You mean—you can figure out where they are? So I can destroy them?”
Jasper only snorted. “Unless Henry actually secured his shit, yeah, I’ll be able to do this in about two seconds.”