Mara is frantic when we walk into her tiny studio apartment. She shoves a box full of Sutton’s things right into my arms.


    “It’s not like her to have left without an exnation!” Mara cries. “She was supposed to meet me at the smoothie bar. The barista said that she walked out half an hour before I arrived without her smoothie.”


    “Did he say anything else?”


    Mara’s not really looking at me. Her eyes keep darting to the little box that I’m rummaging through.


    “It was her favorite, too. Chocte avocado. She loves it. She wouldn’t have left it behind unless it was an emergency.”


    Artem casts me a look. I’m pretty sure if the situation weren’t so serious, he’d be fighting backughter. It’s a testament to how much he cares for Sutton that he manages to keep his expression suitably uneasy.


    “The barista said that some guy came over and sat with her. It was Drew; I just know it was. That bastard’s been hounding her for months!” She twists around, her eyesnding on me as though she’s just realized she’s not alone. “She was only in contact with him because of her sister, you know? There was nothing else going on between Sutton and Drew. She hated the bastard.”


    “You would say that,” I murmur, gazing at the odd collection of things Sutton left behind. Among the junk are the keys to the car I’d gifted her.


    “I’m saying it because it’s true!” snaps Mara. “Sutton doesn’t have a deceptive bone in her body.”


    “Then why wouldn’t she tell me that she was still in contact with Drew?”


    “Uh, maybe because she knew you would freak out? Which you did?!”


    Artem clears his throat and steps forward. “That’s neither here nor there at the moment, Mara. We need to find out where Sutton went. Do you have any idea where to find her?”


    “Hello? Were you not listening?” she yells. “Smoothie bar! Stalker ex-boyfriend! No exnations! I have no idea where Sutton might…” She trails off. “Except… maybe… her sister…” Her eyes focus on me. “She might have contacted her sister.”


    I get to my feet. “Her passport is gone. It’s the only thing of value she’s taken.”


    “So she might be in Vegas, then?” Mara wonders out loud.


    “You sound unsure,” Artem points out.


    “Only because Drew started working for Sydney’s boyfriend again. I doubt she’d go to Vegas knowing that Drew is back on Paul’s payroll.”


    “But maybe she’s going there to ask for help,” I surmise. “I need to talk to her sister. I assume you have her number?”


    Mara squints at me in suspicion. “What do you n on doing when you find Sutton?”


    I pull out my phone. “Sutton and I may be over, but that doesn’t mean I want her at the mercy of that dumbfuck ex of hers. He may be an idiot, but he’s a dangerous idiot. And there’s nothing quite as deadly.”


    Mara’s bottom lip quivers. “Why the hell didn’t she tell me where she was going? I could have helped. I could have lent her some money!”


    “As far as I can tell, she didn’t want to involve you any more than she already had,” Artem offers. “But she did want me to check on you, make sure you were alright.”


    “She’s got the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.” Mara’s eyes water for a moment before her jaw hardens. “But for all that, she also has the lowest self-esteem. Thanks to all the ungrateful schmucks she ends up choosing.”


    She meets me square in the eye. No points for subtlety.


    I grind my teeth. “Sydney’s number?”


    Mara nods, the quiver back in her lips. “Fine, I’ll give it to you. But only if you use your powers for good and not evil.”


    She doesn’t wait for me to agree before she pulls up Sydney’s number and thrusts her phone at me.


    I jot it down quickly and give Mara a nod as I make for the door.


    “I’ll let you know if we manage to find her.”


    She grasps my arm before I can walk out. “Please,” she begs, imploring me with her wide eyes. “Find her.”


    “I will.”


    Whatever she sees in my eyes seems to calm her, because she takes a deep breath, her shoulders rxing as she lets go of me.


    As Artem and I head back down to the Escde, I decide to call Sydney immediately.


    “Now?” Artem balks.


    “Why not? We don’t have time to waste.”


    “You really think she’s gonna talk to you?”


    “We’re running out of options. And I’m certain Sutton will have contacted her sister. They were always there for each other as kids. There’s no reason to believe anything has changed.”


    I dial, and Sydney picks up just as I slide into the passenger’s seat. “… Hello?”


    Her voice is eerily like Sutton’s. The familiarity sends an ache coursing through me that I’m not prepared for.


    Like something has settled under my skin and I can’t fucking rip it out.


    “Sydney.”


    “Speaking,” she replies formally, her voice bing instantly reserved. “Who are you?”


    “I’m Oleg Pavlov.”


    There’s a beat of silence. “No fucking way. What do you want?”


    I toss Artem a nce. “I’m guessing Sutton contacted you already?”


    “If she did, it’s none of your business. Not anymore, anyway.”


    “She might be in trouble, Sydney.”


    “Of course she’s in trouble, you gigantic douche bag!” she yells so loudly that I have to hold the receiver away from my ear. “You broke up with her and kicked her out of the house!”


    “There were… extenuating circumstances.”


    “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hang up on you right now.”


    “Because, believe it or not, I want to make sure your sister is okay.”


    “Don’t worry about Sutton. She’s a survivor. Us Palmer women have had to be. Especially since we have a habit of attracting assholes. I thought Sutton had avoided the curse, but apparently not.”


    “Where is she?” I ask.


    “She’s leaving Florida, thanks to you,” Sydney replies snottily.


    “What?” Artem spasms in his seat and the Escde wobbles on the road for a second. “Where is she going?”


    “I have no idea. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Now, kindly fuck off and never call me again.”


    The call ends. I stare at the receiver as though it just tried to take a bite out of me.


    “Jesus, that sister of hers is a live wire,” Artem muses. “Guess it runs in the family.”


    “Blyat’,” I say. “Looks like we’re going to have to find her on our own.”


    “That is if she’s still in the state.”


    “She is.”


    Artem throws me a skeptical nce. “How can you be sure?”


    The truth is, I have no clue why I’m so sure.


    It’s more… a feeling.


    The certainty that Sutton is still in Palm Beach, closer than I think.


    “She doesn’t have enough money to get out of the state. There’s no way Sydney was able to get her the money that fast, either. Which means she’s going to be lying low somewhere in the city. We just have to figure out where.”


    “Did she mention any ce sentimental?” Artem asks. “A park she’s fond of? For what it’s worth, maybe we should check out the airp?—”


    My phone cuts Artem off with a sharp ring. I can’t believe my eyes when I see the caller ID.


    “Drew Anton.”


    “My God.” Artem’s jaw drops. “Fucker’s got a pair of balls on him.”


    “He’ll be parted from them soon enough,” I promise as I transfer the call to speaker phone and answer it. “Hello?”


    “I’m guessing this is the great and mighty Oleg Pavlov?”


    “And I’m guessing this is the pathetic and moronic Drew Anton.”


    Heughs bitterly. “If you know who I am, then you know what I am to Sutton.”


    I’m willing to bet that the only reason he’s so free with her name is because he’s far, far away from me. “The cancer she can’t get rid of?”


    “She was ying a role, man. She may have talked shit about me, but I am her person. She confides in me, trusts me, loves me. You were just a fucking job. However she was with you was fake.”


    “Trust me,” I growl, low and menacing. “There are some things no woman can fake.” His breath catches. Then I hear a furious groan from his end of the line. Before he can rebut, I keep talking. “Why the hell are you calling me?”


    “We’ve got something very valuable that you’re gonna want.”


    “There’s nothing you have that I want. If that’s all?—”


    “No!” he yells, the catch in his throat betraying his desperation. “Trust me, this is something you’re definitely going to want.”


    “You’re full of shit, Anton.”


    I’m about to end this waste of time call when he shouts, “She’s pregnant!”


    I freeze. Artem does, too. His eyes snap to me but I’m focused on the call, the voice on the other line that’s giving me news she should have given me herself.


    “What?”


    He lets out a cackle ofughter. “She didn’t tell you, did she? Well, she told me. The kid’s yours and—for a price—I can tell you exactly where she is.”


    “For a price, huh?” I snarl, fist pressed knuckles-down into the seat.


    “That’s right. One mill?—”


    “One thing before you name your price.”


    “Yeah?”


    “Fuck you.”


    I hang up. Artem is giving me a look. “He just called to goad you,” he says.


    “I’m aware—which is why I didn’t rise to the bait. Fucker can crawl up his own ass and die before I give him so much as the lint from my fucking pocket.”


    “Right, but… do you think that the thing he said about Sutton is true?” Artem asks tentatively.


    My heart is thudding unevenly, telling me that maybe this one piece of information, I can trust.


    Or maybe I’m just hoping I can trust it.


    No. It’ll be easier for everyone if it’s not true.


    That’s what I should be hoping for.


    “Make a call to Vegas,” I growl. “If Anton thinks he can fuck with me without any consequences, he’s got another thinging.”


    “Holy shit,” Artem exims, ignoring me in favor of his phone.


    “What now?”


    Artem lifts his eyes to mine. “Ilya texted. He just picked up some pings from Sutton’s phone.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “She’s at the boatyard.”