Page 98 of Tricked By Jack

“To do what? This is making no sense, Shel.” I deliberately use the nickname, trying to get her to tell me everything instead of just random pieces I don’t know what to do with.

“Look, you’ve been a great friend, Eve. And I’ve tried to repay that.”

“What do you mean?”

A giggle escapes her. “I broke into Jack’s house while you were sleeping and brought you coffee. I even left little notes for you.”

I gasp. “That was you?”

We continue to talk, and she isn’t hesitant in sharing her plans, thoughts, or even feelings. It’s insane how open she is. And in my professional opinion, that can only mean one of two things. Either, she’s going to kill me or she considers me an ally.

“I’m glad things worked out this way,” Shelby admits when I stand and stretch. “Because of you, I can finally get my revenge on Jack. He’s about to face his second worst nightmare.”

My throat goes dry. “Second?”

Shelby’s smile is sharp, cruel and gleeful. “Losing Ruby was the first. He killed her, remember? You’re just next in line. And when I kill you in front of him like he did to me, he won’t survive it. I’ll make sure of it.”

While she talks, she moves about. Reaching into the sink for something I can’t see. I try to peer around her back, but it’s impossible.

“You’ll be helping me get my revenge,” she says gleefully. “I should thank you. You really are the perfect best friend.”

Despite telling myself over and over to play along, I can’t. “What did he do to you?” I shout, jumping to my feet.

I only manage two steps, then she spins around and quickly presses something to my mouth. My eyes widen as I try to slapher hand away, but she trips me and follows me to the ground, still with the… fabric pressed over my mouth.

“He killed my lover. He killed John Simmons.”

John… what the…

Fuck.

Everything slows down and my limbs feel heavy. My eyes… they… closing. Must stay… awake.

There’s a knock on the door. Or am I imagining it?

The Trickster

Nick stands at the head of the table, hands braced on polished wood, posture carved from discipline. He looks like the heir he was raised to be—controlled, untouchable, as if rage were a thing to be swallowed and buried, never worn on the surface.

Carolina watches from next to Nick, where she’s sitting. But she isn’t looking at her husband, her eyes are on me the way you watch a grenade whose pin’s already been pulled.

I only know it’s morning because the blinds in Nick’s office are cracked just enough for the sun to bleed through in pale stripes, but it doesn’t touch me. Nothing does.

I haven’t sat. I can’t. The chair in front of me bears the weight of my hands, knuckles bone-white, veins roped tight beneath the skin. If I let go, I’ll put them through a wall. Through a skull. Throughanythingthat isn’t her.

Eve.

Her name thrums under my skin, louder than blood, louder than breath. My wife. Fucking gone. And why? Because I trusted Shelby. It’s my fucking fault.

“You need to sit down,” Nick says at last. His voice is steel sharpened thin.

“The fuck I do.” I flip himoff and flick the knife in my palm, catching it easy as breath.

“We don’t know where she is yet.” His gaze cuts to Carolina, then back to me. “And with Ned vanishing, how do you know he isn’t at his sister’s side right now?”

“He isn’t,” I growl. Truthfully, I don’t fucking know if he is or isn’t. All I know is that he split after our trip to Aces Fly. And… I let him.

“If you just start tearing through the streets, you risk losing Eve for good,” Nick carries on.