Emma
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
That was the amount someone connected to Calvin Rusk had paid Mara’s husband before she died.
I watched Jake stare at his phone, and for the first time since meeting him, I saw something worse than anger on his face.
Hope.
Not the good kind. The desperate kind that makes you believe an answer might finally fix something that’s been broken for years.
“Jake?”
He barely heard me.
“I need to talk to Sophia.”
He started toward the clubhouse, but I caught his hand.
“Then we’ll talk to her.”
He looked down at me.
“Em—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence.”
His mouth twitched, although his eyes remained troubled.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“You were about to tell me to stay here.”
“Was considering it.”
“Well, consider something else.”
I sli
