Page 47 of XOXO, Little Butterfly (The Storyteller’s Bodyguard #2)

Birdie

Blake isn’t here.

I’ve been waiting at the gallery of Ponce de Leon Lighthouse for thirty minutes, and Blake hasn’t shown up.

Tristan has given me my phone earlier after asking him for the millionth time if he texted Blake the right location. I’ve checked the text myself and Blake’s answer. I’ll be there, little bird.

I try Blake’s phone for the third time. He never picks up. “Where the fuck are you?” I mutter. “He ditched me. Why would he come to negotiate anything with me when Shane is playing ball. He must have gone to Shane to finalize their fucking plan that will end me.”

“I intercepted the message, Birdie. It didn’t reach Abel.” Tristan clasps his hands together and rests them on the railing. His gaze scans the place right and left, up and down on repeat. “He’s just playing you, making you sweat.”

“Well, it’s working.” I pace frantically. “He’s on to us. He knows that I’m stalling with this meeting, that I’m only after the app.”

Tristan doesn’t speak, but I can feel an ‘I told you so’ forming on his face.

Clearly, I’ve underestimated my husband. “Unless…” My heart plummets to my feet. “What if Butterfly Man got to him first?”

“You mean Detective Douchebag?”

I roll my eyes.

“Your stalker didn’t get to your husband. Last time I checked, the detective was in the Vineyard when Abel was in Jacksonville.”

“You don’t know that. Jacob… I mean, Reid could have been anywhere when he called yesterday.”

“But I do. I had one of my men tailing him after the cameras caught him redhanded. Wish I’d done it sooner.

It’d have proven to you beyond doubt he was your stalker.

” He shakes his head with a grumble. “Anyway, as of this morning, the detective hasn’t left the island.

Relax. He hasn’t killed your husband yet. ”

For a second, I wish it was true. I wish Jacob was Butterfly Man, and for now, Blake was alive and I was safe from his revenge.

“And if the detective isn’t my stalker,” I gulp, “and Blake is dead… It’ll be hours before my whole life tumbles down on my head and I lose everything.”

“Hey, you’re not alone. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

No matter what happens, we’ll figure something out.

I promise.” He glances at his watch. “For all it’s worth, I don’t think he’s dead yet.

The stalker would have made a great deal out of it.

At the very least, he’d have let you know.

His final offering before he comes to collect what he thinks he’s earned. ”

A flicker of reassurance breezes into me. Tristan is right. Butterfly man said he’d save Blake for last. If he killed him, he wouldn’t be silent about it.

“Excuse me?” A man’s voice comes from behind.

I turn, and Tristan is a wall separating me from whoever has spoken.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man says, “is this lady with you Birdie Abel?”

“Who’s asking?” Tristan uses his authoritative voice with an extra dash of menace.

“I’m the lighthouse keeper. Someone gave me a message for her.”

My heart skitters. I jump from behind Tristan. “What message?”

The keeper, a man in his late forties, wearing a uniform and a cap, stretches his hand with an envelope.

I drop my gaze to the yellow envelope. There are no butterflies on it. Perhaps it’s not from Butterfly Man but from Blake. I reach to take it, but Tristan blocks me.

He pushes his suit jacket just enough to show the keeper his gun. “Who gave it to you?”

The keeper frowns at the weapon, raising a hand between him and Tristan.

“No one. I received a message on my phone from an unknown number yesterday. It said there was an envelope in the keeper’s room.

If I gave it to a lady called Birdie Abel today, I’d find five thousand dollars in a crypto wallet in my name.

It gave me instructions on how to access that wallet and a photo of the lady, too. ”

“Show me,” Tristan barks, attracting some eyes from the visitors toward us.

“Unfortunately, the message disappeared right after I managed to access the wallet.”

Tristan curses in Spanish. “Did you check your CCTV to see who put that envelope in your room?”

With a shrug, the keeper puckers his lips. “I did, but it was wiped out.” He pushes the envelope our way. “Just take it. I thought I’d make a quick buck here on something harmless, but it doesn’t look that way. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Put it on the ground and leave,” Tristan orders.

The keeper does as he’s told and scurries away.

Tristan mumbles something to Brandon into his mic about grilling the keeper and bends to take the envelope.

My breath trembles out. If this is from Butterfly Man, if he killed Blake, it’s game over. “Open it.”