“Miss Leo, maybe?”
“No, it was a man. He had a deep voice, and he was tall like you.”
Tall like me. Ha.
If I wasn’t starting to panic, I’d laugh at that because at six foot and three quarters, I’m the shortest of the four of us. But I guess that’s tall to a six year old.
Knowing whoever gave that toy to Carson is about my height is a step in the right direction, though. “You’re sure it wasn’t Mr. Norman, then? He’s kind of tall like me.”
Car shakes his head. “He wasn’t skinny like that. He was tall and big, and he wore lots of black clothes.” I open my mouth to ask about Luck again but the boy beats me to it. “And a black hood with sunglasses, and a thing covering his mouth. He even had gloves on.”
Fuck.
That is not good, it’s not good for about four million reasons but the two that are blinking neon red at the top of that list areLeo’s stalker broke into Pete’s place and stole the model GTOandthe fucker came here and gave it to Carson to make a point.
A sick and terrifying point.
The bastard wants us to know he’s everywhere, and I don’t fucking like it.
But I still need to play it cool for Carson because the worried expression he’s giving me has me feeling like a dickhead.
“Huh,” I hand him the blue sports car and nonchalantly pick up another one, spinning the wheels with my finger. “So, it was like some secret spy gave it to you?”
“I guess.”
“Do you remember anything else about him?”
Carson shrugs.
“Nothing at all?” I don’t want to pressure or scare him but if he remembers anything about the day he got that car it could be helpful for us. “You’re telling me a super smart, super cool kid like you can’t rememberanythingabout that sneaky spy who gave that to you?”
“No.” He giggles a little and sets the GTO down before he pauses. “His boots made a weird sound when he left and I laughed because I thought he farted.”
Forcing a chuckle because that didn’t really help, I ruffle Car’s hair and get to my feet. “Fart boots, got it. Have fun, kiddo, and say hi to your dad for me when you talk later.”
My heart is racing right now, pounding so fast and so hard I’m not sure I’ll successfully make it up the stairs without passing out, but the need to get to Leo’s place is strong. Strong and overwhelming, and that grows when I’m about halfway up and Carson calls for me.
“What’s up, dude?”
I watch him get to his feet and slowly walk to the bottom of the stairs, a little hesitance in his movements. “He said to tell Miss Leo that he’d be seeing her soon, and she better be ready to lose their game.”
Straight up fucking ice shoots down my spine but I just thank Carson, tell him I’ll pass on the message then wave before I turn and eat the steps two at a time.
“Fuck,” I grunt as I enter the code on Leo’s door for a second time, the keypad blinking red because it’swrong.
This isnotthe time.
I need to get in this goddamn apartment and I need to do it now.
Lucky is home, I know that much because Norm text and said he and Pete were grocery shopping, but our gentle giant is a big enough dick that he’ll ignore me so I canlearn how to do this myself.
Which he’ll regret when I break down this door and start to strangle him.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and try to calm down, gathering my wits so I can remember the goddamn numbers that’ll let me inside.
This system was clearly a necessity, I know it, I agree with it, especially now. And once Franc told us Alexander Collinsworth is a trust fund baby with a history of having death follow him around pretty closely, it sent Luck into overdrive.
None of us like the douchebag or the unwanted attention he’s still giving Leonor, but even without that, the guy’s a creep with a curse.
