I storm to the office and slam the door behind me. After throwing myself into the plush leather seat, I reach for my laptop and fire it up. The screen comes to life. Too restless to sit there and wait for it to complete its process, I pick up my cell phone and unlock it to call Zack.
If Calista won’t take the danger seriously, then I have no choice but to prove it to her.
“El Capitan,” the hacker greets, his voice chipper. “What can I do for you?”
“I want an update on Calista’s case.”
“First of all, I couldn’t find any dirt on her father. If he had any shady deals, they’ve been buried so deep that I won’t be able to locate them without a clue or place to start. Secondly, the package that was sent to Miss Green was rerouted several times before it ended up with the final courier. Whoever sent it didn’t want anyone to know its origins.”
I blow out a breath. “Damn it!”
“I feel you. I even contacted Sebastian to have a ‘friendly chat’ with the delivery guy and he didn’t know anything about the box or where it came from. He’s a dead end.”
“What about the note inside?”
Zack grumbles. “For the record, ‘Will wett ink ken?’ is a stupid riddle.”
“Did it stump you?”
“Not exactly. I started with the phrase itself. ‘Ken’ is commonly used in Scotland as ‘to know.’ Will wet ink know? Know what? That’s the question. Duh. I researched various uses for ink, the different types of materials used for it throughout history, and even went as far as to test the ink used on the note itself.”
“And nothing?”
“Right,” he mumbles, his frustration leaking into his voice. “Then I took each word and weighed them individually. ‘Wett’ is spelled incorrectly, and I believe it’s on purpose, which led me to rearranging the letters to form words and phrases. Turns out to be bullshit. I mean, did they really send a lullaby as a death threat?”
I tense in my chair, ready to end the call as my instincts urge me to return to Calista. All I can think about is her life in danger, yet hearing Zack discuss it has my insides churning with fear and rage. I force my muscles to relax until I’m reclining in the seat.
Zack continues on, oblivious to my turmoil. “‘Will wett ink ken’ spells out ‘Twinkle Twinkle.’ It was written by Jane Taylor, who was born in 1783 and died in 1824. Don’t worry, general, I looked into the dates, and nothing. Anyway, the lyrics stem from a 19th century poem that’s most likely another dead end. I—”
“Wait!” My shout startles Zack into silence, while my thoughts churn loudly inside my head like bombs detonating. “Twinkle twinkle, little star,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as a realization hits me. It solidifies when I picture the pill in my work desk, the one with a starburst in the center. “The date-rape drug has a star on it.”
“Hot damn,” Zack says. “I’ll go back over the list of pharmaceutical companies with this information in mind. This gives me a better timeline of when this drug compound hit the streets.” He pauses and then breaks through my musings with a small cough when I remain quiet. “I’ll get right on this, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Talk to you soon.”
I hang up the phone, staring into the distance. Whoever sent that note to Calista hasn’t only confirmed my suspicion that the cases are connected. This person made sure I fucking know it. And that they’re responsible for the delivery.
Along with my mother’s death.
Given the fact that they specifically sent it to Calista tells me they want me to know she’s gotten their attention. This is more than a scare tactic, it’s a warning.
My decision to bring her here, literally kicking and protesting, was the right call. I’ve always known in my gut that my choices concerning Calista’s safety were extreme, maybe even irrational at times, but now? I’m completely justified.
I lock my phone’s screen, toss it on the desk, and get to my feet. My thoughts about Calista propel me forward, to be by her side. I need to hold her, even if it’s only for a moment.
My steps echo in the hallway, the heels of my shoes tapping out a cadence that’s almost militant. I certainly feel like I’m at war. Not only with this unknown threat, but with the Calista herself.
I approach the master bedroom and grab the handle to open the door. The room is dimly lit, with the glow of a seashell lamp casting a warm, inviting light. My gaze immediately finds Calista standing just inside the bathroom, a light blue towel wrapped around her body. Her hair is damp from the shower, and there are droplets of water scattered over her chest because of it. When she turns to face me, they sparkle like diamonds, drawing my gaze to her breasts.
Lips parting on a gasp, she takes a step back. “What’s wrong?”
“Hey,” I say, softening my voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to check and make sure you’re all right.”
Her eyes turn to molten gold, piercing me where I stand. I resist the need to grab her and pull her into my arms. God, just the sight of her…
She straightens her shoulders and holds my stare, a mixture of wariness and curiosity. “I appreciate that, but I’m fine.”
We lapse into silence, me studying Calista and her judging me. I rake a hand through my hair, trying to rid myself of the terror that grips me whenever I think of her being hurt.
“I just finished talking to the person I hired to decipher the note,” I say. “They confirmed it’s a death threat, not just a warning.”
The flush from the hot shower leaves her cheeks. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “It translates to ‘star,’ which is the symbol on the pills that my mother took when she overdosed.”
“Hayden…” She swallows, and the fluttering of her throat draws my attention. She’s delicate, so fragile. “Now what?”
“Zack is going to keep searching for answers.”
“Why would someone want to hurt me?”
“If I knew, I would’ve already dealt with them.” I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms to keep from snatching her to me. “That doesn’t mean I won’t. Until then…”
She averts her gaze. “Until then, we’ll stay here.”
“Callie—”
“I know why you’re doing this, but it doesn’t make it right.”
“Right or wrong, I can’t lose you.”
She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Only you can make love dysfunctional.”
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” My voice carries threads of my desperation for her, but I can’t find the energy to care.
She clutches the towel tighter, her fingers digging into the fluffy material as she shakes her head, still looking down. I walk right up to her, slide my hand around the back of her neck and force her to look me in the eyes as I bare my soul to her.
“All I see is you. All I want is you. When I’m not with you, I can’t think. You’ve fucking wrecked me, but I don’t care. Not if it means I get to have you.”
Her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate, revealing the fear, anger, and confusion. Underneath it all is a spark of desire. I want to fan it until it’s a flame that burns brightly, evolving into an inferno. She wants this as much as I do, regardless of how much she tries to resist.
“Hayden…” She raises her hands to rest her palms on my chest. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Don’t fight this. Don’t fight us.”
