Page 40 of Play With Me
Anders steps up to my side. “Interesting choice of words.”
Luca’s eyes snap to him, a sneer turning his features monstrous. “Is it? Because I thought your job was to protect her, not fuck her. Fake it, not actually do it. Yet, you just put on a show and ensured no one could bother you while you did it. You’re not worried about catching the killer. You’re more focused on what’s between her legs,” he lashes out before turning his attention back to me. “Andyou? How could you fuck him after all this shit he keeps saying about you? Is that who you want to be with? Someone who keeps putting you down? Making a mockery of you and the club?” His words are venomous, meant to question Anders’ ability to do his job while reminding me of what the man I just let play my body like a violin thinks about me.
A lump forms in my throat. My sinuses start to burn. Anders’ hand on the small of my back startles me, spurring me to move around Luca so I can head back to my office and process everything that just happened in solitude.
“Carmela…” I hear Anders call out to me, but his voice is cut off by Luca saying something I can’t make out as I get further away from them. I’m vaguely aware they are following me, arguing the entire way through the Desires hall and into the Grand Room. Jace shoots me a sympathetic look as I pass the bar and enter the hall that leads to my office.
The door is already open, which is weird because I always remember to shut it when I leave. The sound of the two men arguing grows louder as I stay in the hall and slowly push the door wider, but their voices fade when I see what’s on my desk.
A single decaying red rose with its signature black ribbon swirled around the thorns lies on an all too familiar red envelope.
Terror pierces through my veins, turning my blood to ice as the breath catches in my throat.
“What is it?” Anders’ voice cuts through the fog that’s taken over my mind as he appears next to me. I turn to look at him just as he looks into the room and sees the letter. “Shit.”
He touches my waist briefly, gently moving past me to grab the letter. Whoever is sending them never leaves prints, but he still uses the edge of his shirt to hold the envelope as he fishes the letter out with his thumb and index finger after putting tape on the pads. He reads it silently before his brows scrunch together, and he looks up at me. “It’s another nursery rhyme,” he states in a confused tone. “What’s with the nursery rhymes?”
Anders lays the letter on the desk and motions for me to read it before his eyes flicker to Luca, who is now taking up the entire doorway. “How the fuck do these keep getting in here without anyone seeing who’s dropping them off?” he asks him.
“I’ll go down to the security room and see ifanyone was caught on camera,” Luca says gruffly before disappearing down the hall.
Without taking my eyes off the letter, I slowly venture further into my office and use the sleeve of Anders’ jacket to pull it to the edge of my desk.
Rock a bye baby on the Jersey Shore. Everyone knows its mother’s a whore. When this all ends, will Jersey be safe? Better go check on your biggest mistake.
“What the fuck does it mean, Carmela? What’s with the nursery rhymes? What’s in Jersey?” Anders’ questions are muffled by the sound of my blood rushing through my ears.
“I don’t know.” My voice is small.
“Bullshit! You’re visibly terrified. Why, Cara?” He sounds angry, like this letter explains everything, and I’m holding it back from him. I may not be telling him the truth, but I still have no fucking clue why I’m receiving these threats.
“I don’t know,” I repeat, voice a little stronger this time.
Anders and I have spent too much time together at this point, though. “I can tell you’re lying.” His voice softens. “Why are you lying to me?”
Taking a deep breath, I harden my eyes as they meet his, my voice steely when I answer him. “I don’t know.”
He doesn’t ask me whether I’m just repeating myself or admitting I don’t know why I’m lying to him.
Anders
She’s fucking lying.
I hate that after everything, Carmela still isn’t trusting me with the whole truth. Between her and Mick, I don’t know how they expect me to do my fucking job when they won’t give me all the facts.
There’s a reason for the nursery rhymes. Carmela’s face gives her away. She’s terrified. Shaken down to her marrow.
Something either clicked for her when she read the letter, or this particular message finally rattled her enough to seriously scare her.
Cara crosses the room without another word, grabbing her phone from the discarded bag on her sofa before going into the bathroom. She shuts the door with a soft click. My footsteps are light as I approach the door and stick my ear to it, trying tohear if she’s calling someone or just checking messages while she changes.
Her voice is muffled, but I can still make out what she’s saying. “Hey, Len. I’m sorry, I know it’s late. Is there any chance you can run to Jersey for me?”
Jersey.
Carmela is hiding something in Jersey. The nursery rhymes would make sense if she had a kid, but she doesn’t.
Does she?