It was after four p.m. when they pulled into Hollywood. Pixie’s silence worried him, yet he understood. He couldn’t begin to imagine the thoughts that must be racing through her head. For years she’d lived with the guilt of killing another person, only to find out he was still alive. It had taken her stepfather blackmailing her to find the truth.
He followed the road the satellite navigation suggested onto a tree-lined street. The houses were nothing fancy, but the neighborhood seemed quiet. Dred took a deep breath. He’d spent the second half of the drive trying to convince himself that finishing off what Pixie had started when she stabbed Brewster was a bad thing. The predatory asshole needed the kind of lesson a sixteen-year-old girl wasn’t capable of giving. What would he do if he found out the guy had kids? Could he in all good conscience drive away, and leave children there with him because reporting him might cause problems for Pixie?
Dred parked a few houses down and looked at Pixie. “Ready?”
The color was coming back to her cheeks. “I am. I spent the whole drive figuring out what to say, and the truth is, I don’t need to say anything. All I need is to confirm he’s alive, and go.”
Dred tipped her chin. “I love you, Sarah-Jane Travers.”
“I love you too, Theodred Zander.”
They left the car and walked to Brewster’s house. Pixie rang the doorbell and waited.
She heard a squeal from inside, followed by male laughter, which got progressively louder.
The door swung open. “Hello,” Brewster said with a huge smile on his face. He looked from Dred to Pixie. “Oh shit.” The grin faded, and Brewster stepped onto the steps and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Brewster,” she said calmly.
Brewster looked back toward the house and cursed again. “Look, Sarah-Jane, please. I don’t know what you want. But I’m sorry. I’ve changed. I swear it. I just got married, and she has no idea about . . .”
She let the silence hang painfully between them.
“You can’t even finish that sentence, can you?” Pixie asked, finally.
In the event they ever needed proof that Brewster was alive, Dred whipped out his phone and took a picture.
“You disgust me.” Pixie turned to walk down the steps.
“I’m sorry. What are you going to do? Are you going to tell the cops? Are you going—”
The sting of his knuckles hitting Brewster’s jaw gave Dred more pleasure than he could ever imagine. Once Brewster was down on the porch, Dred kicked him hard in the stomach. “You useless piece of shit,” he snarled. “I swear to fucking God, if I find out you ever have kids, I’ll come ’round and kill you myself.”
Without so much as a glance back, Dred hurried across the lawn to Pixie who was nearly at the car.
“Dred,” she said as he approached her.
“Yeah, Snowflake.”
“Take me home.”
*
Pixie leaned against Dred as the elevator doors closed. A weight had been lifted off her, but her body was drained from carrying it all those years. Finally home, all she wanted to do was grab a shower, hang out with Dred and Petal, who were staying with her rather than at a suite at the W, and have a relaxing evening.
She’d pressed the button for the floor to her apartment and watched the numbers begin to climb. When it reached fifteen, Dred quickly hit eighteen, two floors beneath Lia’s.
“Don’t be getting any kinky elevator-sex-games ideas, I’m too tired,” she said with a grin.
“Elevator sex. Huh. Never done that one. But no. I might have done something else instead.”
“What’s that?” she asked, as the doors opened on eighteen.
“You’ll see,” he said, taking her hand. He led her to the corner suite and knocked on the door.
Lia opened it. “Perfect timing,” she said with a beaming smile.
Pixie stepped inside the most beautiful apartment. Decorated in mostly white and gray, it was finished with splashes of purple. Being on the corner, the huge wraparound balcony provided spectacular views over Biscayne Bay. It was a massive open-plan space, with a large living area, a dining table that could easily seat twelve, a professional-grade kitchen, and a secondary seating area set up as a library.
“What is this?” she asked as Jordan appeared from a hallway beyond the living room. He carried a baby monitor in his hand.
“I’m going to head out,” Jordan said. “She’s down for the count. See you in the morning.”
“I’ll join you,” added Lia. “You know where I am, Pix.”
They both left, leaving Pixie feeling very confused.
“This is home,” Dred said, wrapping his arms around her. “Or at least I hope it is. For you, me, and Petal. The lease is for six months.”
“Wait. What. I don’t understand.”
“We decided to come finish the album here, so I can help you take care of all this stuff with Arnie. At first we thought we’d come for a couple of weeks, but the more we talked about it, the more we liked the idea of recording the whole album here. And that got me to thinking. I’ve never had my own space, and I am guessing you haven’t either.”