Wild Sky 2 (12 page)

“Do your creepy thing,” Calvin urged us again.

I snapped at him. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

He was unfazed. “I’ll call it your glorious, fantabulous magical whoo-hah, if you want. But use it, ASAP, to check Milo’s memory, so we can be sure she’s not in there right now, shooting up.”

“She could be doing that, regardless of whether she got Destiny from the man in black,” I pointed out, still rather snittishly.

“Calvin’s idea is actually a good one. It’s possible I missed something,” Milo said quietly, and I braced for him to touch my shoulder, but he didn’t.

Instead, I turned back around, and he was just sitting there with his hand out, too-politely waiting for me to be the one to make the connection.

So I buried my frustration, tucking my anxiety in beside it—and tried to make my mind as peaceful and calm as possible.

Still thoughts. Still thoughts.

When I touched Milo’s hand, I could tell that he was doing the same thing—prepping and bracing for the contact with a couple of soothing
Still thoughts
. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so sad. Except it was confusing, too, because I immediately felt the warmth of his love.
That
hadn’t changed.

But he was all business, leading me directly to the “box” for this particular memory. I felt the sensation of him lifting the lid, and I fell into the visual swirl of his recall.

A man. Dark suit. Leaning under the shiny silver convertible, making a displeased face at Rochelle’s gum, but then sliding the envelope of cash into his jacket pocket. As he quickly walked back to his car, got in, and drove away.

From where Milo had been sitting on that bus-stop bench across the street, he’d seen it all. He played it again for me, this time in slo-mo, and no, the man’s hand had been empty when he’d reached for the envelope, and he’d dropped nothing as he moved back to his own car.

I froze the image—Milo had gotten a clear look at the car’s plates—which had been artfully smeared with mud and grime that completely covered the numbers and letters. And
that
meant we had no way to track Man-in-Black.

As soon as Milo could tell that the memory had registered for me, he sat back, breaking away from my touch and leaving me in the dark.

But he loved me. Didn’t he? That was love I could feel from him, wasn’t it? Lord, I was overthinking all of this. Maybe Milo was just tired. God knew
I
was exhausted…

As I sat there and stewed, Milo recapped for Cal everything that we’d seen.

“What are we missing?” Cal asked. “Maybe he’s her bookie. Or…maybe he’s her ex and she’s paying alimony—no, I’m not feeling that one. I dunno, guys. Bottom line is that Rochelle is into some sketchy shit, and the Jilly issue is looking not so great. Maybe the money is some kinda payoff. She killed Jilly, and Man-in-Black disposed of the body…?”

“Maybe she owes him a ton of money,” I said, thinking aloud, “for hits of Destiny that she’s already used. So she’s paying him back in installments, but…that still doesn’t make sense, because she’s an addict and if she has any money at all, she’d use it to buy more Destiny. Except she’s not strung out, she’s not desperate, and I have
no
clue what’s going on.”

“She’s getting the drug from somewhere,” Cal pointed out. “According to Garrett, she’s getting younger.”

“Today she looked like she was twenty-five,” Milo said. “Tops.” Adding, “Car. Approaching.”

And we all ducked down again in our seats.

“Please let it be Dana, and please let her bring lunch,” Cal chanted. “Please let it be Dana, please let it be Dana…”

Chapter
Eight

It was Dana.

And miraculously she’d brought lunch.

But she’d also been laughing at something Garrett said as they parked behind us and got out of Garrett’s father’s sports car, and the look of dismay on Cal’s face when he heard her was one I’ll always remember.

“Is she actually having
fun
with him?” he asked me, sotto voce.

“No,” I told him. “She’s not. She wouldn’t.” But I wasn’t sure. Dana was…Dana.

We all got out of Calvin’s car to greet them, and then we hunkered down at the side of the road for a little picnic of deli sandwiches and lemonade.

Cal didn’t fall on the food as eagerly as I’d expected him to. His appetite was apparently gone.

Milo and I dug in though, as Dana explained what she and Garrett had been up to for most of the day.

“We got flowers,” she told us, gesturing toward Garrett’s car. We could see them in the back. “Lots of ’em. Three huge floral arrangements. The cards are signed from G’s dad.
To Ro-ro. Yours forever, Dickie
. Anyway, they’re so huge, G’s gonna need his besties”—she pointed to Milo and Calvin—“to help him lug them up to her house. The three of you will bring them inside for her.”

“Wait,” I said. “You want Milo, Calvin, and Garrett to go inside the home of a potential Destiny user to deliver flowers…?”

“Not just flowers,” Dana said. “We also bought Daddy’s crazy girlfriend a nice array of wireless micro-mics and Minicams, so we don’t have to sit out here and wonder what’s going on inside her lair. Once G gets those flowers inside, we’ll have front-row seats to the Rochelle Show.”

Calvin winced—just a little—every time Dana called Garrett “G.” “And you’re sure Rochelle won’t find them?” he asked. “These miniature cameras and mics?”

“She’s not very tech-savvy,” Garrett said through a full mouth. “I thought it was worth a try. Besides, if she finds ’em, she’ll think it’s my dad spying on her.” He laughed. “She’ll probably think it’s sweet. Proof that Daddy still cares.”

“And this took
all
those hours,” Cal said, trying to sound casual and failing. “A trip to the florist’s and then to the Big Box media center?”

“We spent about two hours at my place,” Garrett told him with a grin. “Your girl wore me out.”

“Oh?” Cal said and his nonchalance was epically faux.

Dana and Garrett both laughed. “I told you he’d be jealous,” Garrett said to Dana.

“You won that bet, G,” Dana said before turning to Cal. “Calvin. Baby. Garrett knows that you’re my one and only.” She widened her eyes a little as if to say,
Play along
. No doubt—to keep Garrett from relentlessly proposing marriage (with plans for a midair wedding night)—she’d reinforced the pretense that she and Calvin were a Thing.

“We went shopping in G’s attic, looking for pawnables that wouldn’t be missed when Daddy comes home. We need cash. So we got us some. Project Jilly can’t be bankrolled entirely on a credit card.”

“Although buying that wireless surveillance combo-pack put a solid dent in my plastic allowance,” Garrett informed us through a full mouth.

“What’s your surveillance operating system?” Cal asked, and while Garrett shrugged, Dana got up and fetched a tablet from the front seat of the sports car. She and Cal were soon deep into the tech of it all, heads together as they leaned over the screen.

Garrett picked up the binoculars and trained them on Rochelle’s house.

I looked up to find Milo watching me. “Sorry about before,” he said.

“I’m not sure what’s going on,” I confessed quietly. I wanted to take his hand, but I didn’t dare. Instead, I rewrapped the second half of my turkey sandwich. Like Cal, I’d lost my appetite. “Are we okay?”

“Yes,” he said. “We are. I love you—please don’t doubt that. I’m just…I’m dealing with some…stuff. Hard stuff. Harder than I thought. And…I need a little space.”

I love you, but I need some space.
Milo didn’t need to be inside my head to realize that I wasn’t reassured by that at all.

“Sky—” he started.

I interrupted. “I can imagine how…weird it must be to know every little thing I’m thinking and feeling, and I want you to know that I’m learning how to control that. I am. I see what you do, with those…kind of…mental boxes—”

This time he cut me off. “Don’t you dare!” He was loud enough that Calvin and Dana looked up from the tablet.

“Let’s never fight,” Dana told Cal. “Shnookums.”

“Never,” Cal promised. “Pookie.”

Milo took my hand and pulled me to my feet as he stood up. Our connection snapped on, and I felt his embarrassment and frustration as he pulled me away from the others, back behind Garrett’s flower-filled car. But once again he let me go almost right away. “This isn’t about you,” he told me. “I love being inside your head. I don’t want you to change anything. It’s me. It’s all me.”

I wanted to believe him. “Maybe I can help with…whatever it is…?”

“Yeah,” he said again, but he shook his head no. “Eventually, yes. I’m sure of that. But right now, I just need…”

“Space,” I finished for him as my heart sank. Still, I tried to understand. “I’m here when you want to talk.”

Milo nodded. “I know that.”

“It’s time to do this,” Dana called. “Guys? Miles, we need you.”

“Rochelle’s dangerous. Be careful in there,” I whispered.

Milo nodded again, but I was hyperaware that he didn’t kiss me. “I always am.”

————

“She’s a Destiny user!”

Dana and I blurted the words simultaneously as we sat in Garrett’s car, hunched over the surveillance tablet.

I felt my heartbeat quicken as I realized that, with just one glimpse of Rochelle on a tiny little tablet screen, I’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that the woman was addicted to Destiny.

“Abso-effin’-lutely,” Dana agreed.

I focused, ignoring the urge to shudder as I watched the real-time play-by-play through the hidden cameras of the flower arrangements that Garrett, Milo, and Cal were carrying as they stood on Rochelle’s doorstep.

All three bouquets contained Minicams, but Cal’s definitely had the best view at the moment. Through his lens, we saw Rochelle as though we were gazing up at her.

Rochelle.

With her dewy, flawlessly tanned skin, lush blond hair, and petite stature, she was without a doubt the most absolutely drop-dead, stunningly, perfectly gorgeous woman I’d ever seen in my life.

And, more importantly, she was terrifying.

I’d never seen someone exude
mean
without saying a single word. But Rochelle was just that.

Scary mean.

Soulless, as far as I was concerned.

“What do
you
want?” Rochelle growled, her steely blue eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her ample chest.

She was dressed in an outfit that belonged on a tennis pro. And Rochelle’s physique matched that of an athlete’s, minus excess muscle and plus enormous boobs. Her bleach-white pleated skirt complemented her figure-hugging pink polo shirt. None of the buttons on the shirt were being used. There was a lot of cleavage, even from this angle.

For a moment, no one said a word. It was almost like all three guys needed a beat or two to digest the epic view that was Rochelle. Meanwhile, her question lingered in the air like an odor—a question that had clearly been directed toward Garrett, who finally came into view as Calvin stealthily swiveled his wheelchair to his left.

“Special delivery!” Garrett exclaimed as he shifted the weight of the grotesquely huge bouquet in his arms. “
Heh. Heh-heh.
” His trademark nervous laugh was something I had, unfortunately, grown accustomed to hearing over the past few days. “Flowers! From my dad!”

Rochelle looked suspicious and none too pleased.

I couldn’t see Milo, but I knew he was standing on Cal’s other side, holding a similarly gargantuan floral arrangement. His voice rang out clearly though. “Sorry to bother you like this, ma’am,” Milo said in his sweet, southern twang, “but your husband? He must really love you. There must be two hundred dollars of flowers here.”

There were exactly two hundred dollars of flowers there—and it was good instinct on Milo’s part to point that out. Things like that would matter to Rochelle.

As I watched, the woman’s head snapped to her left to hone in on Milo. Calvin obligingly swiveled his chair again, and Milo’s profile came into view. But I was still able to clearly see Rochelle’s face from both Garrett’s and Milo’s cameras as she proceeded to give my boyfriend a full-on up-down check-out-the-hot-boy look.

In an instant, Rochelle’s entire demeanor flipped from cold to hot. She smiled. “Oh, that’s hysterical!” Her tinkling laughter was enough to send goose bumps up my arms. “Rick’s not my husband, silly! I’m
definitely
too young to get married. Come in,” she added and stepped backward, her hand still on the open front door in order to allow the three boys into the house.

Garrett led the way, with Milo right behind him. And through Cal’s camera lens, I watched Rochelle unabashedly admire my boyfriend’s ass as he strode into the foyer.

“Whoa, look at her eye-fah—” Dana stopped herself, no doubt because of the grim expression on my face.

Yes, I’d noticed the hideous and dangerous Destiny addict
eye-fahing
my boyfriend, thanks.

Then, to add insult to injury, Rochelle made a short sniffing sound before waving Cal inside impatiently—as though he were hired help rather than one of Garrett’s friends. She could see that Cal’s chair was getting hung up on the door’s threshold, but she didn’t move to help.

“Total bitch!” Dana hissed.

I nodded vehemently. “She is the
ugliest
. Beautiful person. I’ve ever. Seen.”

“Well put, Cupcake.” It was the closest thing to a compliment that I’d received from Dana in a very long time. I looked up at her for a second to acknowledge it. “Focus!” she barked at me as she stabbed furiously at the tablet screen with her finger.

Well,
that
had been nice for the zero-point-four seconds it had lasted.

The screen we were watching was split in three, each panel offering us a view from Milo’s, Cal’s, and Garrett’s perspectives as they lugged the heavy bouquets inside. Milo and Garrett were both moving too fast, and the images from their cameras were dizzying.

Cal’s point of view was better, but even his was a little bumpy for a second until he finally made it inside. Then things smoothed out and the front hallway was visible. It opened up into a cavernous-looking living room, complete with a collection of ugly, expensive-looking marble sculptures, ruby-colored leather couches, and a domed ceiling decorated with a gold-encrusted mural reminiscent of Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Meanwhile, Rochelle had clearly contributed to the already—ahem—tasteful decor, with enormous framed photographs of her own face hanging on every wall.