Page 83 of The Defender

I came to an abrupt halt. It was freezing outside, but that didn’t compare to the ice rushing through my veins.

This was my private cell. Only a handful of people had the number, and it wasn’t searchable anywhere online.

My birthday trip also wasn’t public knowledge. It was possible someone recognized me at the airport or in the restaurant and posted about it, but a quick Google search didn’t turn up anything about me being in Budapest.

Even if a random fan knew I was here, how the fuck did they get my number?

Me:Who is this?

I waited, my breaths forming small white puffs in the air.

But a reply never came.

CHAPTER 23

BROOKLYN

“Remind me again why I wore a dress and heels.” Carina shivered as we exited the restaurant and practically ran to the limo.

“Because we’re going to a club, and you look hot.” I wore a thick down coat that went past my knees, but every inch of exposed skin felt like ice.

“Right. Hot. Think of heat,” she chanted.

Luckily, the limo wasn’t parked too far from the exit. Vincent stood near the passenger side door, his gaze fixed on his phone. My steps slowed when I took in his white knuckles and the rigid set of his shoulders.

Something was wrong.

Carina disappeared into the car like the hounds of hell were at her heels. The sounds of my friends’ laughter and a warm blast of air beckoned from inside, but my feet remained rooted to the ground.

Vincent hadn’t noticed me yet. He was probably answering birthday texts, and I was overthinking things, but…

“Don’t tell me you’re googling yourself again,” I teased. It was a soft gauge to see what he was doing.

He glanced up, his mouth grim.

My smile disappeared.Something’s definitely wrong.

“Actually, I was, but not for the reason you think.” He hesitated, then said, “I got a weird text, and it’s freaking me out a bit.”

He handed me his phone. I skimmed the text in question, my skin pebbling with goosebumps as another gust of frigid air swept over me. “Maybe it’s a friend and they got a new number?” I suggested optimistically. Still, I couldn’t resist a scan of our surroundings in case someone was lurking in the shadows, watching us.

“Maybe.” Vincent didn’t sound convinced, and rightfully so. The unknown number and their lack of response to his follow-up were glaring red flags.

“Do you think it’s the same person who left the doll and photo?” I didn’t want to feed into his worries on his birthday, of all days, but I had to ask. It also hadn’t escaped my notice that I was the only person he’d told about the text. If the others knew, they wouldn’t be laughing in the limo.

The warmth I felt at this display of trust was tempered by burning anger. I didn’t hate a lot of people, but Ihatedwhoever was doing this to him. It took a special kind of twisted to mess with someone’s head, disappear, and pop back up weeks later to fuck with them some more. It was psychological torture at this point.

“I hope so. I can’t deal with two different people trying to mess with my head.” Vincent grimaced. “Not a lot of people know I’m in Budapest, and they texted right after I left the restaurant. The timing can’t be a coincidence.”

“It’s suspicious,” I admitted. “But it’s also dinnertime, so it could be a lucky guess. As for your location, some fans could’ve seen you and posted about it online.”

No matter my personal reservations, I wasn’t going to let him spiral on his birthday. This washisday, and we were in freaking Hungary. There was nothing we could do about the text tonight.

“You should forward that to Detective Smith, just in case,” I added. “The police might be able to trace the number.” Hopefully, the text was “actionable” enough for the detective to finally get off his ass and do his job.

“I will.” Vincent glanced at the driver. He waited outside the limo, smoke curling from his cigarette while he watched what sounded like a sports match on his phone. “Don’t tell the others about this, okay? Especially not Scarlett. I don’t want them to worry.”

“I won’t. I promise.”