Dream Maker - Kristen Ashley Page 0,55

me. “Did you go through it?”

I shook my head.

He turned back to Mo.

“Well, Boone and I had the occasion to chat with a few of Snag’s girls last night,” Mo said.

Great.

Absolutely fabulous.

My brother’s crap meant Mo and Boone had to find then chat with prostitutes.

“Snag is in the wind,” Mo continued. “But one of his girls said one of his other girls had a john who had something she decided she wanted. Snag found out about it. He commandeered it. Word got out she stole it, and now she’s dead.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Though, before she was taken out, she shared Snag had it. Now he’s in the wind.”

“What is it?” Mag asked.

“That, I don’t know, the girl who shared all this didn’t know, and who’s looking for it, she also didn’t know,” Mo answered.

Great.

Absolutely freaking fabulous.

“So, maybe they found Snag, who led them to Evie, and they got it back and this is all done?” Mag suggested.

“Maybe,” Mo said ominously.

“You know more?” Mag asked.

“Dick,” Mo told him, shaking his bald head.

“So, we continue efforts to find Gumm at the same time wait and see if they make a move on Evan, or her brother, to know if whatever it is, is back where it belongs,” Mag deduced.

“Yeah, without any other leads, those are the plays we got,” Mo replied.

No one was happy with this, I could feel, including me.

But it was only me who sat there, paralyzed.

I didn’t know what to do or say or how this could possibly be worse than what it was before.

A woman was dead.

I felt Mag’s fingers give my knee a squeeze and heard him murmur, “Evie.”

I focused on him. “You guys have to stop.”

“We will when we know you’re safe,” he replied.

“A woman is dead.”

I watched Mag’s mouth grow tight.

“It was in the bag,” I said. “Everything that was in that bag when I got it was in it when it was taken. I’m done. I don’t know anything. I’m out.”

“There’s a scenario to that where you’re not out,” Mag noted.

My voice was rising when I cried, “How can that be? I’m not in that life!”

As it was clear I was becoming more freaked, Mag repositioned to stand between my knees, where he now had both hands with fingers squeezing reassuringly.

“Baby, hang tight, yeah? You’re in a good place. You’re covered,” he assured.

I forced myself to breathe steadily and stared at him.

He watched me do this before he continued.

“If who got it is not who it was taken from, you were in the chain of possession, and they won’t care you’re not in the life.”

“I didn’t know I even had it, whatever it is.”

“They don’t know that.”

“Well, Mick can get the word out to tell them that,” I snapped.

After which, Mag looked over his shoulder at Mo.

I did too, and saw Mo wore an expression that was more terrifying than his usual Resting Terrifying Face.

“He won’t,” I whispered, and Mag turned back to me. “Mick won’t. He’s occupied covering his own ass, which means conceivably throwing me under the bus, if needs be.”

“Evie,” he said softly.

It was that softness. His voice, deep with a lovely timbre normally, going soft, it was like his voice box had been touched by the hand of God.

And his face, staring at me with tenderness and understanding.

And his friends, coming over to give him shit but this after two had been out last night trying to sort my problems and one was going to spend his day off covering my ass.

It was all that.

All that which finally made me lose it.

“Welcome to my world, baby,” I stated snidely, and watched Mag’s expression go alert and his head twitch while doing it. “Last night you got a dose of the honey sweetness of my mom. The night before you got to spend quality time with the stand-up guy my brother is. It’s too bad I have to strip tonight. I could take you round to meet my dad. You could get high with him, his favorite pastime. So much so, I don’t think I’ve spent a minute with him my entire life where he wasn’t at least half-baked. Or we could find my sister, who’s probably wrestling on film in a vat of pudding to up her followers. But that’s okay. You can come watch me slither around all oiled up to earn tips for giving assholes hard-ons.”

“Evan,” he whispered.

“I’m trash,” I stated.

His face got hard. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“I am.” I leaned his way. “I’m fucking trash.”

He

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