She shakes her head, so I grab her chin and force her face up, right next to mine. “This is not your fault. Say it.”
She hiccups a sob, then nods. “This is not my fault.”
“Good.” I lean back against the bench, pull her so her head is nestled between my neck and my shoulder. She’s so young. So young.
“I’m only two years younger than you. You can trust me, you know.”
I laugh. I trust no one and no one trusts me. Not even James. I know he hides things from me, but I let him, because it’s the only way to make things work.
“There was another name the woman thought. I didn’t tell them.”
“What?” I whisper, my stomach clenching with that roller-coaster anticipation of falling. Bad. This is bad.
“Annie.”
No. No no no no. NO NO NO NO. ANNIE IS DEAD. ANNIE IS DEAD. ANNIE IS DEAD I KILLED HER I KILLED HER I KILLED HER SHE’S DEAD.
Pixie sits up and looks at me, trying to smile, but holding her head like it’s in pain. “It’s okay. I met her a couple months ago. She’s okay, Fia. No one knows. She asked me to keep an eye out for you.”
My thoughts are frozen with shock. Pixie met Annie. And she’s never let it slip. “Because Annie is dead. No one knows because she is dead.” I watch Pixie, every sense trained on her for her reaction.
She nods, slowly, solemnly. “Yes. I know. Annie is dead.”
“And she stays dead.” Or I’ll kill you. I will, I will. You wouldn’t be the first person I killed to protect her. Or even the second.
Her shoulders fall and she looks hurt. “You don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t. We’re friends. Aren’t we?” She stands and stumbles away from me.
I swear under my breath. How can I keep her quiet? She can’t know about Annie. That isn’t safe. I have to keep Annie safe.
Whatever it takes.
I chase after her, grabbing her arm, my beer bottle still clutched in my other hand. “Listen, Pixie, I’m sorry. You have to understand—”
“Run,” she says.
“What?”
“Run! They’re thinking your name! All of them! Too many of them!”
I look up, around the room, dark and filled with bodies, packed with them. And then I realize that the fear I felt, still feel, the warning, had nothing to do with Pixie. I have no weapons on me, and I lost my security tail on the way here as a matter of habit.
“He wants you unharmed,” Pixie whispers, her lips against my ear. I have my arm around her waist as I steer her toward the main exit. Our best bet is a crowd. They’ve already seen us, so sneaking out the back would only work to their advantage. “Do you know someone named Rafael?”
I clench my jaw against the flood of memories. Rafael on a beach in Greece. Rafael’s lips on mine in my first kiss. Rafael’s hands all over me. Rafael’s unknown score to settle with James. This is bad.
Then again, I still owe him for that kiss. I smash the bottom off my bottle to leave a jagged edge.
Time to meet an old friend.
ANNIE
Nine Weeks Before
I SLAM THE DOOR, SLUMPING IN THE PASSENGER SEAT while Cole loads the grocery bags.
When he gets in, he doesn’t start the car. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you think?” I fold my arms, scowling.