Page 74 of Less

“Who?”

“Matthew Carter,” Noel replies.

“That cheesy, rich fuck?” Madoc asks.

“Yeah. Amanda had a private engagement at his Hollywood estate,” I murmur.

“Didn’t we ban him from Leandra’s last show?” Pax asks.

“Fuck yeah, we did. Asshole stalked my wife for the better part of six months before I threatened him with more than a fucking lawsuit,” he growls—and it sounds how I feel—animalistic, inhuman, raw.

I know exactly how he feels.

“So what happened to him after you, uh, gave him some life advice?” Noel asks with a twitch of his lips.

“Don't know,” Madoc says. “He simply stopped coming to her shows, which was a very good idea since he very much wanted to keep his ability to breathe.”

My hands clench into fists.

“So he has prior experience stalking and getting creepy? It's him then, right? That motherfucker!”

“Easy, man,” Ego says.

“Yeah, we need to corroborate where he was, with whom, and if he had the brains to do this,” Kai says.

Noel studies me carefully.

“Look, we don't know for sure, Less.”

I really fucking hate that answer.

“But this?” he continues quietly. “This demands that we know for sure before moving.”

Before moving.

Meaning before ending someone.

Meaning before Remy Falco accidentally gives the go ahead.

Meaning before Noel falls off his leash.

And more importantly—meaning before I do.

I step into the hall and look through the open doorway to her room.

Amanda is still asleep.

Safe.

Beautiful.

Alive.

And I swear to God—whoever did this?

Whoever almost took her from me?

They're going to regret it more than they could possibly know.