Seven
“She won’t come over.” Lex smirked into his whiskey, pushing down the ice cubes with his finger. “She’s one of the elite—stalks the bars for rich old guys, hoping for a hit and a marriage.” He lifted the glass and slurped his drink. “High-dollar, believe me.”
Phil squinted and picked up his pen, not looking at Lex. Hardly looking at the note he’d just signed. He didn’t need to. Fold it and slip it in the envelope. He’d already addressed it and stamped it. Didn’t even need to look up the address. He stashed it into his pocket to be mailed later.
He wished he could be there to see Katty’s face when she figured out who had sent the note. He could just imagine. She’d go all crazy with fear just like she probably had when she found the bike. He knew that face of hers. He’d caused much
