“Hello, friends,” she says. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been hearing these absurd rumors about Thorn Beathach, the owner of Malice Media, kidnapping Alana Beaumont, the lowest-ranking person at Aquarius Social. I mean, come on. We all know Thorn is a sexy billionaire who could get any woman he wants; any man as well. You’re telling me that he went out of his way to kidnap insipid Alana Beaumont? Please. This is a fantasy of hers, which I guess we can all understand, but to go public with it?”
She rolls her eyes. “I called the police station and there is absolutely no report of a kidnapping, so come on, let’s cancel her silliness. We have better things to do, right?” She leans closer to the camera. “Besides, I caught wind that Malice might be in a bit of a bind. Have you heard anything? If so, post your memories right away so we can share them. I can assure you, we’re offering our assistance to him.” She clicks off.
“That’s interesting,” I say.
“What a bitch,” Rosalie snaps.
That’s Stacia’s default setting, so I don’t get too upset by it. “Yeah, but it’s interesting. Have you checked the other platforms?”
Ella swallows more ice cream before answering. “There’s nothing on Aquarius, which you would probably already know about, but on Hologrid Hub, there are a few low-level influencers who have picked up the question about Malice. To be honest, I can’t tell who originated it, whether it was one of the Rendale sisters or somebody in the Sokolov family, but the rumors are out there.”
Rosalie kicks back. She’s wearing dark jeans and a red sweater, and she crosses her ankles on the card table. “Sometimes a rumor is all it takes for stock to tank. This could be a move.”
I fidget with my spoon. “So somebody’s trying to take Thorn down via rumor? What does that have to do with the garnets?”
“Hell if I know,” Ella says. “You’re right, though. The only thing that makes sense, if we believe he’s telling the truth—and that’s a big old if—is that for some reason the garnets he traded for you are more important than what he has planned for you.”
Rosalie sighs and reaches for her discarded carton of Chunky Monkey, which is still half full. “Do you think we’re going to have to kill him?”
I blink. “I thought we already dealt with that. None of us are killers.”
“Yeah, but we may have to change that to protect you from him.”
Deep down a voice I won’t acknowledge promises that there is no protection from Thorn. My body is sore in places that still thrum, and every time I shift my weight, my clit aches. Damn him.
Ella drops a piece of cookie dough on her jeans and uses a napkin to wipe them clean. Her phone dings, and she reaches for her laptop, her eyes flicking as she reads. “We have another murder in town.”
I finish my ice cream. “Murder?”
“Yeah. Look-alike to you. Brunette, yellow dress, aquamarine necklace. Face smashed in beyond recognition,” she reads out loud.
Rosalie leans toward her. “That’s not a coincidence I like.”
I bite my lip. “Me either. You’ve set up a notification for similar murders?”
“Obviously,” Ella says, still staring at her screen. “I didn’t want to alarm you, but I did look into the murder of the young woman who the news hinted was you the other day. Her name was Lisa Alson, and she was a twenty-two-year-old waitress at the Crux Bar.”
“No connection to me?” I ask.
“None.” Ella shoves the spoon into the carton and sets it aside. “However, hers is the third death in two years with the same MO. Now there’s a fourth victim. Young women, multiple injuries, raped, smashed-in face found outside of popular bars. Many we’ve visited, by the way.”
Rosalie stiffens. “Same characteristics for the victims?”
Ella swipes at the stain on her jeans. “Not sure. They were young brunettes, but that’s as far as it goes. The other two known vics were a doctor and a computer programmer. The police are looking at the cases separately and together, and so far, they don’t have anything. There’s nothing on this newest victim. Yet.”
So the murders appear to be a coincidence. Except for the aquamarine necklace. That’s my signature. Of course, with six million followers on our site, I’m often copied. Especially when it comes to clothing and accessories.
Rosalie stops with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What if it’s Thorn? I mean, he’s obsessed, right? He can’t have you so he’s killing lookalikes?”
That doesn’t sound like him. I don’t think. Maybe. How well do I really know him? “I’m not sure,” I say lamely.
“So there’s no record of him obsessing about someone, and . . . I don’t know, maybe authorities later finding her body in a moat somewhere?” Rosalie drawls, her eyes sparking.
“No,” Ella says. “Of course there’s no mention of him killing anybody, which . . .” She lets her voice trail off.
I nod and shove another spoonful in my mouth. There’s no question in my mind that Thorn Beathach has killed more than once. My phone vibrates and pulls my gaze. Reading the text, my heart flutters in my chest, the rhythm frenetic.
THORN: It’s good to know that you’re behaving yourself. Good girl for not posting.
My head jerks up and irritation swims through my bloodstream. I pick the phone up and immediately text back.
ME: I haven’t had time. I’ve been too busy reassembling my dress.
THORN: Get used to it.
“Is that him?” Rosalie asks.
“Oh yeah, it is.” I walk over to the big screen. “Ella, give me a nondescript background, would you?”
She types and a lovely watercolor of a lake takes up the entire screen. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Absolutely.” I know I’m making a mistake, but in my tired and sore state, I just don’t care. He goaded me—calling me a good girl in that condescending tone. I’m nobody’s good girl. He should know better. I flick on the video app of Aquarius Social and apply a light filter because I’m sure I have huge bags under my eyes. The green light starts to flicker. I smile.
“Hi, friends. Sorry about the delay. I’ve been rather busy. However, as you know, I still have a story to tell. So Thorn Beathach is sexier than any of you can imagine. He’s about six foot six, solid muscle, and I’m going to be truthful here, he kisses like a god. And his hands. Just wait until I tell you about those broad, sexy, talented hands.” I then look away as if somebody’s coming. “Oh, I have to go. Make sure you explode-star this and share it with your friends if you really want to hear more about Thorn’s supernatural anatomy. If you do, I’ll be back in several hours. Now, get some sleep, y’all.” I click off.
Rosalie chuckles. “Are you sure you want to poke the beast?”
“It’s too late,” Ella murmurs. “I think she just did.”