The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,86

but worried it’d look suspicious. They were coming for the party, not us.

Camden finally stopped. “This is far enough.”

He gestured at a brightly lit diner with a sign that simply read Waffles. The inside looked like a typical sixties-era diner with red booths along the walls, a diner bar at the back, and cheap tables along the middle. A jukebox played music. I could see a collection of framed photos declaring them the best waffles in the city for the last three years. I wondered who had actually voted in that.

Katherine wrinkled her nose. “You expect me to go in there?”

“This is as good of a place to wait until I can get my driver out of that mess to pick us up,” Camden said. He yanked the door open and held it for her.

To my surprise, Katherine just walked right inside. I’d never seen her in a diner before. She didn’t do food with calories very often.

Whitley barreled after her. “I could go for some fucking hash browns. I’ve never met a potato that I didn’t like.”

Court grinned down at me. Not at all concerned that we’d just had to escape a police raid. “Fuck, I want a waffle.”

I shook my head at him as he ambled drunkenly into Waffles and joined Katherine and Whitley at a red plastic booth against the wall.

“Thank you,” I finally said to Camden now that I was coming down…a little at least from what had just happened.

He shrugged. “Don’t want any of my people to get caught there.”

“What about Fiona?” I asked, realizing for the first time he’d just abandoned her.

His eyes flicked to Katherine. “Like I said, my people.”

Then he walked inside. A small smile touched my features. Maybe Katherine wouldn’t realize what had happened until later, but I bet she would put it all together. That he’d immediately ditched Fiona. That Katherine was his people. His to take care of.

I wished that I could join them. Sit down in that seedy little diner and overdose on carbs with my friends after escaping something horrible. But my job wasn’t over. Other people needed to know about this.

I sighed and then pulled my phone out. I paused for a heartbeat, waiting for that text message from Sam. The one he’d promised hours ago. The one he’d never delivered.

It wasn’t there.

I ground my teeth as I pulled up English’s number and dialed. It’d be super fucking early in London. Like, six in the morning. But she was used to living weird hours as a celebrity publicist. She didn’t sleep like a normal human being. It wasn’t out of the norm to see her doing tai chi in the living room at four in the morning. Her brain was just wired differently.

The phone rang once and then went straight to voicemail. What the hell? I tried again. Same thing. Her phone must have been off. It was the only explanation. Except that English never turned her phone off. It was her job to have her phone on at all times. You never knew when you’d have to be ready to deal with something.

I glared at my phone. I needed English. She’d know what to do and how to handle this. But she wasn’t answering.

Then another thought hit me, and my stomach turned. What if Sam showed up at the party? Admittedly, it’d be weird for him to do so without first calling me. But maybe he’d forgotten about the invitation.

I knew that I was grasping at straws for reasons to call him. To find out what the fuck he was doing. But I didn’t want him to show up there. And if he was already in a cab, as unlikely as that seemed, then I’d rather him just head here.

Maybe I was rationalizing, but I sighed heavily and called him anyway. Damn the consequences.

34

Sam

I tapped my index finger against the side of my phone as the taxi veered precipitously through traffic. I was still trying to craft the text to Lark. What the hell should I say? It was one in the morning. She’d left hours ago. I should just say fuck it. It’d be easier to explain to her when I saw her. But still, I stared at my screen, wondering how not to sound like a total dick.

Then to my surprise, my phone started buzzing in my hand.

I answered on the first ring, “Lark?”

“Sam”—she sounded all business—“where are you?”

“I’m sorry about before.”

“I don’t care about that right now. Where are you? Are you