“Of course.” Cormack’s jaw clenches in a surprising show of anger. “I’ll wait here, give you some privacy.”
“I’ll just be a second.” I stumble to a nearby bench overlooking the water, sliding my finger over the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”
“West, where the fuck are you?” a voice barks before the word has even left my mouth. “You’re not home.Again. I thought I told you to stay put.”
“Nate?” My breath huffs out — I see it steam the air in front of my face, but I don’t feel at all cold. Strange. “Is that you?”
He pauses. “You don’t have my number in your phone?”
“Lila deleted it last year.” I sigh. “Told me it was time to let go.”
Wherefore art thou, verbal filter? Why hast thou abandoned me?
There’s another stony silence, longer this time. If I were sober, I’d worry what it meant.
“Are you drunk?” he asks abruptly, something strange and gravelly in his voice.
“What? No.” I shake my head, perplexed when it takes my vision a moment to catch up to the movement. There’s a three second delay between my eyes and my brain. “Ugh,” I moan, feeling disoriented. “Okay, maybe I’m a little drunk. But I swear I only had a glass of wine…”
“West.” Suddenly, there’s steel in Nate’s tone. And, if I’m not mistaken, concern. “I’m coming to get you. Tell me where you are.”
“You can’t come. I’m on a date.”
“Fuck. You’re out with him, aren’t you?”
“I shouldn’t be on the phone.” My words have begun to run together. Everything is lagging, smearing around the edges. “It’s impolite.”
“I don’t give a fuck about polite, West. Listen to me, he’s not who he says he is—”
I snort. “Andyouare?”
“He’s dangerous!” Nate snaps. I hear the sound of an engine turning over through the phone. “Run. Get away from him. Right now.”
“Cormack isn’t dangerous,” I say, giggling. I don’t know why I’m giggling — I’m not a giggler. But I can’t seem to stop the hysterical noises as they bubble up from my throat.
There’s a small part of my brain — a part I can’t seem to access — that’s screaming at me to listen to Nate. The rest of my mind feels empty, dark. Like a switch has been flipped off, my neurons blinking out like a light.
“Tell me where you are. Please, just— fuck, West!”
I must be drunk because I’m surely imagining things. That’s notpanicin Nate’s voice. He’s a super badass mercenary. He doesn’t feel panic.
I sense movement in my peripheral. My head turns and, after a second, my eyes catch up. Cormack is standing there, frowning at me. His green-blue eyes are flat. When he speaks, that charming Irish accent I love so much has disappeared entirely, replaced by the flat, rough tones of a native Bostonian.
“Give me the fucking phone.”
Gimme tha fahkin’ phone.
“What?” I breathe.
Nate’s shouting something through the speaker, but I can’t make out his words. I’m frozen as Cormack reaches for me, one hand closing over my arm in a tight hold, the other pulling the cell from my weakened fingers.
I try to move, but my limbs aren’t cooperating. Try to fight, but I have no strength. Try to scream, but I have no voice.
There’s only darkness, spreading like a cancer through my mind, reducing my vision until the blurs of color fade to black.
The last thing I remember before Cormack tosses my phone into the ocean and everything slides out of focus is the sound of Nate’s voice, tinny and distant, barking one word through the speaker.
“Phoebe!”