Mike
I knew she was lying to me.
The moment I saw the way Ava avoided my calls, the way she stammered through our last call conversation, I knew she hadn’t stopped.
I sat in my car across from that dingy little café on the east side, the one that looked like it hadn’t seen a decent customer in a decade. My fingers drummed the steering wheel, heart pounding too loud in my ears.
I should’ve walked away. I should’ve let this be Ava’s mess.
But I couldn’t, not when it was Eloise who’d pay the price.
When Ava stepped out of the café, I almost convinced myself I was wrong. That maybe she was meeting an old friend or handling something harmless.
But then I saw him.
The same guy, the fixer, my investigator had revealed his face to me. Greasy hair, cheap suit, eyes that darted like a rat’s.
