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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

PERRY

It takes a while, but it’s really not that hard. I follow Yanni for most of the day, watching where he goes and who he goes with, hoping to catch a moment where he ducks off to the bathroom alone or something and I can threaten him over a urinal.

But either the guy doesn’t piss, or he’s some kind of super-paranoid Mob boss because he doesn’t leave the guys he’s with once. I’m assuming they’re some kind of security, but if they are, they’re pretty shit at their job—and that’s coming from me! I’ve had approximately seventy chances to pop him through the head, and they’re very lucky that this guy is more important to me alive than dead.

I pace across the low roof of the CVS next door to Yanni’s club. Like Saint Clare’s, they have a small courtyard behind their building, only this one isn’t as clean, smells strongly of weed that barely overpowers the smell of dumpster, and has definitely seen a dead body or two in its day.

I pace back to the other side of the rooftop and lower into a crouch. My busy day of trailing this guy like a detective in a crime movie has eaten into my time and thoughts to the point that I’ve been sufficiently distracted from what I overheard earlier. But now, waiting on Yanni’s reply, all the things I pushed out of my brain are pushing back in .

No matter how much I remind myself that I’ve only known St. Clare for a short time and that the time we’ve had hasn’t always been great, it doesn’t make my heart hurt any less. He fills me with so many good, shivery feelings, and all I want when he’s around is to have his attention. I crave it. Need it. When it’s me and him, this burst of warmth fills me so completely that sometimes I think I’ve died because nothing on Earth could feel that good.

Just like I’m not so sure I’ve ever felt this bad.

Because all of that warmth was blinding me to the fact that they were using me.

I mean, fair, I’d probably use me too.

It’s not like my life is all that important, and arguably, Colin has done a lot more impressive things in roughly the same amount of time that I’ve been unimpressive, but maybe I haven’t peaked yet? Maybe I’d like the chance to be impressive. Not going to get that chance if I’m handed over to a crime lord, now am I?

Plus, if I’m traded for another guy—even St. Clare’s brother—I really will have to put a stop to the orgasms. A guy has to have some level of self-respect, and I think that’s the limit I have for myself. No more hot sex. No more having St. Clare look at me in that indulgent way, like he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry at my stupidity, no more getting to tug his body close and feel like it belongs.

I’d go back to being Perry. Kinda hopeless, usually useless, always a disappointment, and I bet once I finally get home again, Sir Squeakerton would have had enough of my shit and packed up and moved on too.

I bang the phone I bought earlier against the rooftop before I remember that I don’t need to do that anymore. It’s a trip to have a phone that turns right on by pushing a button and has access to the internet just, like, whenever I want it?

I’m still not sure if I want to keep the phone, but the neon green rubber frog case with wacky eyes is a strong selling point.

Can’t get one of those for a decades-old flip phone.

I tap the social media app I installed earlier, and the account for Kandi Krisley pops up. Not that Kandi is an actual person. I created the account, added a hot photo from Google, and then added a whole list of people I went to school with before posting a bunch of nature and “your life, so live it” posts. The horoscope ones were a nod to Lars.

Not that he should have any right to my brilliant plan, but I really did like him too. My friends fur-ever shirt is feeling a whole lot less special today, that’s for sure.

Once I got Kandi’s account looking appealing, I tagged her at Rev last night, then sent Yanni a request. He accepted almost immediately, and I hit him with the killer punch: “hi.”

He’s been messaging Kandi all day, who thinks he’s so funny, and he has the best club, and “noooo of COURSE premature balding is the new silver fox look. I LOVE it.”

Yanni has eaten up every message, and I really worry that this is the criminal mastermind after St. Clare and his brother, because Yanni? He has no self-awareness.

Again, that’s coming from me .

Another message finally comes through in response to my one from 9:55 saying that skipping the line out front feels braggy and rude to Kandi.

got a back entrance. meet me there and I’ll let you in

Bingo.

I’m smiling as I type out a reply to “please hurry it’s dark and scary,” then make my way across from the roof of the CVS to the overhang above his back exit. If it’s anyone other than Yanni who steps outside, I’ll let myself in while they look for Kandi, but if it’s Yanni—and I’m hoping it will be—I’ve got Judy ready in hand.

Maybe this guy likes his girls scared because it takes way too long for the heavy metal back door to ease open.

“Kandi?” a deep voice hisses. “You there?”

The man below steps out a bit further, and I finally catch an up-close glimpse of Yanni.

So this is the man who wants to hurt my St. Clare?

No matter how betrayed I feel right now, the urge to protect him has engrained itself in me, and as soon as Yanni turns his back to me, I drop down on the other side of the club door .

“Oy, Kandi? Quit messing around.”

He takes another shoe-scraping step against the cement, and once he’s clear of the door, I kick it closed with a shuddering bang and lift Judy to point right at him.

Yanni swings around, and surprise lights up his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just call me Kandi.”

The surprise gives way to anger and maybe even confusion, but it’s hard to say in this dingy courtyard. “What the fuck is this? Did someone hire you? I’ve done nothing.”

There’s a lot to pick at there, so I ignore him instead. “We have a mutual friend.”

He sneers, and for a man who runs drugs through his club, he’s not bad-looking. He’s no St. Clare, and I’m not attracted to him, but all the photos of him with pretty girls wrapped around him make sense.

“Let me guess who,” he says, voice a rumble that sounds like he’s forcing it. “Kandi?”

“No. St. Clare.”

The surprise is back. “What the fuck do they want?”

“That’s what we were hoping you’d tell us. Why do you want him dead?”

“Dead?” Yanni lets out a chest-bouncing chuckle. “Not surprised someone wants that.”

“Not someone. You .” But he keeps on laughing, and I’m getting the feeling that maybe maybe I’ve missed the mark. “Ah … right?”

He shakes his head, not looking at all scared to have Judy in his face. “Nah, not me.”

“You’re lying.” I say it even though my conviction has gotten shaky. The thing is, I’d been preparing for this rough and tough villain monologue, not him reaching into his pocket to pull out a joint. He pinches it between his lips before lighting it, taking a deep draw, and holding it out to me.

“Want a hit?”

“No?” Though I’m not convinced I didn’t already have a hit and am hallucinating this whole thing. “You realize I’m threatening you right now?”

“Sure.” He shrugs and smokes more of the joint. “So what’s the threat?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, a threat usually has a ‘do this or else.’ I assume the ‘or else’ is killing me, but what exactly am I supposed to be doing to avoid that?”

It’s only just occurring to me that instead of creating an elaborate catfishing plan and moping over the way my heart hurts, I probably should have nailed down an ironclad plan of attack when I faced him.

But I have him here, so what the hell do I want to know?

“Where’s Colin?”

“Colin?” Interest finally catches him, and I can’t place that look in his eyes. “Lost him, have you?”

“Not lost. He’s missing.”

“Aww, is he? Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” Yanni holds the drugs out to me, and like my momma always used to say, I’m tempted. Drugs are the devil, Perry. They tempt you, and they’ll turn you into another person. You have to say no because one day, you’ll be trying a harmless little bud, and the next, you’ll be selling your body for crack cocaine. I’m not totally sure this is what she meant, but when it comes to making a guy paranoid, she succeeded there. Still, Yanni looks totally fine after smoking this thing, and I could use some of the calmness he’s swimming in.

“I’d say yes, but I get the feeling my mom would come back from the grave to kill me if I did.”

He chuckles again. “It’s a little pot.”

“That’s where it starts though, isn’t it? A little pot, a little party favor, and then you’re face down in a toilet cubicle, drowning in your own vomit.”

He blinks at me slowly. “One of those puritan types, huh?”

“Not sure I know what that means, but we should go back to talking about Colin. You know, since I’m the one with a gun.”

Yanni sets his hand on his hip, very obviously nudging back his suit jacket and showing off the gun at his side. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, kid. Now, why don’t you get that thing out of my face, and we’ll talk like men?”

My gaze darts between the gun and his face a few times because Arlie didn’t train me for anything like this. What if I lower my gun and he draws like some western cowboy and shoots me point-blank? Feels risky, but then it also feels rude to keep pointing this thing at him if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“To be clear, you didn’t have anything to do with Colin disappearing?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“And you don’t want St. Clare dead?”

He gives me an odd look. “Why would I?”

“Because they opened a rival club?”

He lifts his hands in a shrug. “And why would I give a fuck about that? It’s a free country. I might have tried to delay the opening a bit, but I’ve seen clubs come and go over the years that another preppy one on the block doesn’t mean much to me.”

That … actually sounds like the truth, but bad guys are notoriously good liars, so this probably isn’t one of those situations where I can trust my gut.

“How do I believe you?” I ask, lowering Judy a fraction.

“That’s up to you. I didn’t come into your workplace and hold a gun to your head.”

“Fair point.”

“Besides, I know exactly who’s after him. He took a loan out with the wrong guy.”

For some reason, that’s what makes me believe him. Judy drops to my side. “Who is it?”

Yanni has another puff of his joint and takes his time letting his exhale out. “These new kids always think owning a nightclub will be easy money. Too bad for them.”

“ Who is it?”

“Carson Alexander. The kind of guy you want to stay clear of. You try with him what you tried with me, and they’ll be scraping parts of you out of the brickwork. ”

“And you think he’s got Colin?”

“Carson doesn’t let a hundred K go easily. If he’s got Colin, he’ll be long gone.”

“Then …”

Yanni doesn’t sound at all sympathetic. “You’ll never know. He’ll be the ghost that Carson is.” Yanni chuckles. “I tried to warn Colin. He got too big for his boots.”

“You tried to warn Colin?”

“Yep.”

“Why? If he’s gone, then this is an easy way to get rid of Saint Clare’s.”

Yanni sighs and scrubs the lit end of his joint against the bricks. “You’re not listening, little boy. I don’t give a shit about Saint Clare’s. Colin wanted to play the game though, and this is what he gets.”

“Because he borrowed some money?”

“You don’t want to owe someone like Carson. Colin should have kept to himself.”

I swallow, grip tightening on Judy, trying not to picture what the fuck Colin has gotten himself into and how much St. Clare actually knows. Is he really that blindly in the dark, or was this whole thing a lie? Did they send me here to get rid of me? Why? If Carson really is after St. Clare and Colin, then wouldn’t St. Clare want more people on his side?

“Let me throw a hypothetical at you,” I say, tucking Judy away. “If Colin made a deal with Carson that his brother didn’t know about, would Carson then go after the both of them? Or only Colin?”

“From what I know about him—and I’m no expert—he focuses on the person he has a contract with. If he’s having trouble finding Colin though … maybe. Unlikely, but maybe.”

Well, I now know a whole lot that I almost wish I didn’t. It sounds like the first step for me would be finding out how much St. Clare really knows. Colin is still withdrawing money to pay for these debts, so if he’s paying up, would Carson be after him at all? Did St. Clare just go along with all of Colin’s plans, or was he actively involved in them?

“Wouldn’t know where to find Carson, would you?” I ask.

Yanni eyes me. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Not sure I have a choice.”

“You have a very good choice. Get the fuck out of this mess. You don’t want it.”

“Sort of hard for me to do that when I was hired to kill a guy I’m now falling for and might have lied that the job was done when it wasn’t done, and so now I’m on the chopping block too.”

“Sounds like your own mess.”

“Little bit.”

“My advice? Run. Carson’s got a whole legion at his disposal. They do what he wants, when he wants it, no questions asked. You get messed up in this and you won’t see next week.”

“You’re overestimating my self-preservation skills.”

Yanni sighs. “Well, best of luck to you. Don’t come round here again. The more we meet, the nastier I become.”

“Noted.”

He’s about to step back inside when another question for him slips out.

“Before I got here … did Lars or St. Clare call you? And say … anything?”

“No.”

“Not even?—”

“Nothing. Even if they called me, I wouldn’t answer.”

This time when he heads inside, I let him go. So they didn’t try to trade me. That should make me feel better, shouldn’t it? The sense of betrayal should be leaving me. Any minute. At any point.

I scuff my sneakers against the dirty ground and lean back against the brick building.

I’ve finally gotten a lead.

Not a great lead, but it’s something.

If this guy is as bad as Yanni says he is, I need to get to St. Clare ASAP. We need to find Colin and take out the murder man and get everything back to normal.

Which would be a whole lot easier if I could trust St. Clare. What if he knows more than he’s told me? What if he knew exactly what his brother was up to the whole time? He was adamant that Colin didn’t do anything wrong, and I get wanting to protect your sibling, but … what am I talking about? I know St. Clare. Sort of. I know that he’s sweet and kind and loves his club and Lars and is lost without his brother. I know he has a big heart and is scared, and those aren’t easy things to fake.

But I don’t know a thing about Colin.

If I was able to learn so much about St. Clare in so short of a time, Colin would have known it too. He’d know his brother is a good guy who trusts him. Why would he have disappeared willingly if he knew someone as dangerous as Carson was after him? If I were in Colin’s position, I would have grabbed Margot and gotten as far from town as it’s possible to get. Disappearing and leaving her to it … never.

So what it comes down to is that either St. Clare is a liar and knows exactly what Colin is up to.

Or Colin made all these plans and ditched, leaving St. Clare to take the heat.

I’m not sure which option is worse.