The Fixer

Henry came to stand next to me. “I understand Emilia hired you to keep Asher out of trouble in my absence.”

 

 

Emilia. Not Vivvie. Emilia. The knots in my stomach relaxed, just slightly.

 

“Emilia tried to hire me,” I corrected, forcing myself to respond to what he was saying instead of what he wasn’t. “She also tried to bribe me, and I’m pretty sure that threatening me into compliance might have eventually been on the table.”

 

Henry took his time with his reply, spacing his words apart, giving each its own weight. “Regardless, as it happens, I am no longer absent.” His green eyes narrowed slightly. “Whatever you’re doing with Asher, you can stop.”

 

Henry Marquette hadn’t wanted Ivy at his grandfather’s wake. He hadn’t wanted me around his little sister. And he didn’t want me fixing Asher.

 

“Hate to break it to you,” I replied, “but Asher’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions about who to hang out with and who’s a liability.”

 

At the word liability, Henry’s expression shifted slightly. He hadn’t expected me to see things from his perspective so clearly. “I know what your sister does, and I know the kind of destruction she leaves in her wake.” Henry’s voice was perfectly pleasant, but the glint in his eyes was anything but. “If you want to fashion yourself into some kind of high school fixer, fine. But stay away from Asher.”

 

I probably should have been insulted that Henry was so convinced that he needed to protect Asher from me, but given what Asher and I had planned for that afternoon, I couldn’t help wondering if he was right.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 25

 

Asher’s contact met us in one of the smaller computer labs. She seemed about as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Emilia gave her brother a look.

 

“Is this my kidding face?” Asher asked her.

 

Emilia glared at him. “It’s the only face you have.”

 

“And what a face it is,” Asher agreed jovially. “Now, about that memory card reconstruction . . .”

 

“Do I even want to know where you got a burner phone?” Emilia asked. Asher opened his mouth to reply. “Don’t answer that,” she told him before swinging her attention over to me.

 

“Can you do it?” I asked Emilia flatly.

 

“Can I?” she repeated. “Yes. Girls qualify as an underserved minority if you’re applying to a STEM field.” At my blank look, she rolled her eyes. “Science, technology, engineering, math? Have you even thought about college applications?” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer that, either. I could do this. That doesn’t mean I will.”

 

She folded her arms over her waist. “I told you I’d owe you if and only if you agreed to keep my brother out of trouble for just a few days. Let’s do a brief accounting, shall we?” She began ticking items off on her fingers. “In the time since he’s made your acquaintance, Asher has skipped school, committed grand theft auto, and threatened to rearrange John Thomas Wilcox’s face.”

 

I turned to look at Asher. He hadn’t threatened John Thomas in my presence. Asher shrugged and then turned back to his twin. “Tess did get me off the chapel roof,” he volunteered helpfully.

 

“For which she has my undying gratitude.” Emilia’s voice was dead dry. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us like to use our study period to actually study.”

 

She turned. Asher gestured at me to say something.

 

“I’ll owe you.” Those words grated, but they had the desired effect. Emilia turned back to face us.

 

“One favor, no questions asked, whenever and wherever I ask it of you.” Emilia gave me her sweetest smile and held out a delicate hand. “Deal?”

 

Gritting my teeth, I took her hand, feeling like I’d just signed on the devil’s dotted line. “Deal.”

 

 

 

Half an hour later, Emilia handed the phone back to me. “Voilà, and you’re welcome—in that order.”

 

I took the phone and pulled up the restored call log. All the ingoing and outgoing calls were linked to the same two numbers.

 

“Any way to tell who these numbers are registered to?” I asked.

 

“Unless the owner of that phone is a complete moron,” Emilia replied, “I’m guessing those numbers belong to other disposable cell phones.”

 

“One way to find out.” Asher plucked the phone from my grasp, and before I could stop him, he’d hit call. He switched the cell to speaker and set it on the counter.

 

This is a bad idea. I reached for the phone, just as a computerized voice filled the air. The number had been disconnected.

 

I shouldn’t have been surprised. If Vivvie’s dad had been smart, he would have destroyed this phone—not just thrown it away.

 

Emilia stood up and stretched slightly, like a gymnast preparing to tumble.

 

“Tess?” Asher nodded to the phone in my hand. “There’s still one more number.”

 

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