Stepping out of the lobby, Fitch lit another cigarette.
He didn't usually smoke this much, but tonight he felt restless, like there was a storm brewing in his chest.
Once in his car, he gripped the steering wheel, and the sight of his fingertips reminded him of the sensation of accidentally
brushing against Zoey's lips earlier. The memory of that warm, moist touch lingered.
He reached for a pack of wet wipes in the center console, considering wiping his fingers clean, but then he paused and dropped the
pack back down.
Right on cue, his phone buzzed with a call from Tyler.
"Scrap the plans, man. I'm not in the mood for drinks tonight. Heard lan's in sdeep trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"lI rang up Beck. lan’s vanished, and Maja—she’s pregnant, right? She's staying at the Sanders’ place and resting up. Can you
believe those two still haven't gotten their act together?"
Leaning back in the driver's seat, Fitch contemplated Tyler's words. Even if Tyler said no drinks, he wasn't keen on going back
inside.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"Tyler, how about we jet off to North America?"
Tyler squinted his eyes, skeptical. "You sure you can leave? Don't the bigwigs keep a tight leash on you?"
The Haskins family was deeply entangled with the powers that be, making international travel a bureaucratic nightmare.
And with lan's recent wanted status, Fitch had narrowly avoided being blacklisted himself.
"lan got a commendation from Uncle Bernard. The warrant's been lifted. | can go after him in broad daylight now, no problem."
Lately, Tyler was getting antsy, too. "Cool. When do we leave?"
"Let's check out the flights for tonight."
"That soon? Fitch, who are you running from?"
Caught in his own evasion, Fitch felt a twinge of irritation.
"Just need to clear my head."
Tyler was fiddling with his hair; the sash of his bathrobe cloose as a woman's soft hands climbed up his back, encircling his
waist.
"Tyler, you're leaving?"
Without a glance at her, Tyler casually tossed a credit card from his wallet.
The woman's expression soured. "Did your little girlfriend check up on you? | heard you've been seeing, what's her name? No way,
she's not even hot. If Tyler liked her, she wouldn't still be a nobody."
Tyler turned and gently tapped her cheek with his hand.
"You talk too much. And for the record, I've got plenty of girlfriends; | don't know which one you're referring to. Take the money and
get out."
The woman's face flushed with embarrassment but she didn’t dare retort, just dressing herself silently.
Tyler resumed his conversation with Fitch.
Having overheard the exchange, Fitch couldn't help but sneer.
"Sooner or later, you'll end up dead in a woman's bed."
Tyler laughed, strolling to the window and resting his elbow on the sill; the mole on his nose added to his charm.
"Better to die in a woman's bed than to play cat and mouse like lan—or you, or Omar."
Balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder, he lit up a cigarette with both hands.
"One woman's a waste of time. Even the prettiest face gets old. | switch it up weekly—to keep things fresh."
Fitch fell silent, focusing instead on the upcoming flight schedules.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmMaja woke to the sound of two familiar voices—Tyler and Fitch.
They were grilling Beck, trying to find out if lan had turned up yet.
Lately, she'd been sleeping a lot, waking only to ask the squestion.
But thad passed, and lan was still missing.
Haunted by nightmares, she'd dream of the earth splitting open and swallowing lan whole.
In earthquakes, those claimed by the crevasses often never had their bodies recovered, adding to the tally of the missing.
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