Chapter 1 - The Door
Marcus’s porch light was on. Of course it was. The guy never turned the damn thing off.
I didn’t knock. I kicked the door hard enough that the frame cracked. Wood splintered. The deadbolt held for half a second, then gave.
Marcus stood in the hallway in a white T-shirt and jeans, phone in one hand, eyes wide.
“Jake? What the hell—”
I was on him before he finished the sentence. My fist caught his jaw. He staggered back into the wall. Picture frames crashed to the floor.
“You killed her.”
He wiped blood from his lip. “What are you talking about?”
“Elena. She’s dead. On the road. And she’s wearing your fucking ring.”
The color drained from his face so fast it looked like someone pulled a plug. For one second he just stared. Then he tried to run.
I grabbed the back of his shirt and slammed him into the kitchen island. Glass shattered. A knife block tipped over. Blades skittered across the tile.
“Talk,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like mine. “Right now.”
Marcus’s eyes flicked to the knives, then back to me. Rain dripped from my hair onto his floor. Somewhere in the house a clock ticked too loud.
“Jake… listen to me—”
I picked up the biggest knife and pressed the tip against his throat.
“I’m done listening. Start talking or I end this right here.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed against the steel. Outside, a car slowed on the street. Headlights swept the front windows.
Marcus whispered, “It’s not what you think.”
The car stopped. A door opened.
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