Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“But you remembered.” I say.
“We dealt with things differently. Aspen and Garnet were pretty much the same person. Once I got rescued, I repressed a lot of the memories. Hell, I didn’t even recognize the SEAL Trident on your arm and back, Buck. And that was a memory from before my time on the island.”
“The human mind is a strange thing,” Luke says.
“It is,” I agree.
Which is one of the main reasons I’m so worried about Aspen. I don’t want her to go off halfcocked and do something she may regret.
“Have you checked in with the Wolfes lately?” Luke asks me.
Crap. “No, I haven’t. Getting hit on the head and spending time in the hospital kind of got in the way of that.”
“You should check in with them, Buck,” Aspen says. “They’ll want to know that we’re okay.”
“I will. Right now.”
I send Reid a quick text to let him know where we are and what we’re about to do.
Anything you need, he texts back.
Good.
It’s nice to have the financial backing.
“All right,” Luke says, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Give us the good news first,” I say.
“I found Taylor Wallace.”
“Okay. That’s good,” Aspen says. “We can talk to her.”
“The bad news is she refuses to talk to us.”
“Which means she must have something to hide,” I say.
“That would be my guess. I’m thinking we go see her anyway.”
“Is she here in town?”
“She actually lives in Reseda.”
“Reseda? Isn’t she an heiress?”
“Apparently not anymore. Daddy cut her off.”
“Why would he do that?” Aspen asks.
“That,” Luke says, “is what we need to find out.”
16
ASPEN
I’m armed.
I’m constantly aware of the pistol strapped to my side, under my T-shirt.
I’m actually wearing one of Buck’s T-shirts to hide the holster. All of mine are too tight.
Buck uses an ankle holster for his piece.
I can’t do that. Not in LA, when I’m wearing shorts. I don’t know how Buck exists wearing jeans all the time. I’m pretty sure we’re both breaking the California concealed carry laws, but I don’t give a shit.
Buck and I are on our way to see Taylor Wallace.
It’s Friday. I actually had to check my phone to see what day it was. Crazy stuff.
Taylor Wallace, heiress to Wallace Leathers.
What does she have to do with this? Something, clearly, or she wouldn’t refuse to speak to us. Taylor was sitting in the aisle seat across from me on the flight to Manhattan. If someone slipped something into my drink, she’s definitely a suspect.
Will she even be home? If her father truly did cut her off, she’s probably working.
She’s married, and her wife’s name is Margo Caprice. Maybe one of them will be home.
More likely not.
We drive up to the condominium complex. Taylor lives in a corner unit, and we park outside the front of it.
“What if she’s not home?” I ask.
“I brought supplies.”
I look in the back of the rental car. Sure enough, there’s Buck’s little black bag. Inside are his lockpicking tools and the blue nitrile gloves that we used at Gloria’s place.
God…
I really don’t want to walk in and find more dead people.
Or another dog to take care of.
I raise my hand and knock on the door. Then I stand out of the way, so if someone looks out for people, they see Buck, not me.
Nothing.
I knock again, and this time, the door cracks open.
“Yes?”
The voice.
Is it Taylor Wallace? I have no idea. I knew her so long ago, and we weren’t close.
“Hi,” Buck says. “I’m Buck Moreno. I’d like to talk to you about Aspen Davis.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
The woman closes the door, but quick as a flash, Buck’s Army boot slides between the door and the frame, blocking her from shutting it.
“We need to talk to you. It’s important.”
I come into view then. “Hello, Taylor.”
I say her name before I actually recognize her, but yes, it is her. Taylor Wallace. Her hair is dark now with blue tips where it used to be blond, and it’s shoulder length instead of long and tied back. But her light brown eyes penetrate me. Those eyes that I recognize. This is Taylor.
She raises her eyebrows. “Thank God you’re all right. We thought you were dead!”
I totally don’t buy the look of mock surprise on her face. “Yeah. Rumors of my death were premature.”
She’s definitely hiding something. Those years on the island did a lot for my intuition, and it’s not failing me now. Gloria swore Taylor wasn’t involved—that Taylor’s wasn’t one of the voices she heard in the locker room—but Gloria ended up dead.
“This is where you invite us in,” I say.
“I don’t have anything to say to either of you.”
“Your long-lost teammate shows up, someone who you thought was dead, and you have nothing to say? You just thanked God that I’m okay.”
“It’s not that. It’s my…my wife.”
“Is she home?”