But he wasn’t sure how to buy himself a little more time.

Clearing his throat, he answered. “Hello?”

“Ephraim.” Pastor sounded annoyed. “Where are you?”

“I told you that I’m sick.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Shit. Pastor had gone all cool and snobby. “I went to Regina’s. I told you that.”

“Yes, I know. I also know that I called this morning and was told that Regina could not come to the phone. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to a police officer.”

“It must have been Dusty, Regina’s assistant. She has that way about her.”

Pastor’s chuckle sent an unpleasant shiver down Ephraim’s spine. “I might have believed you had the speaker not identified herself as Officer Wong from Santa Rosa PD. She asked who I was and I hung up.”

New dread sat like lead in Ephraim’s gut. What if the cops could trace the call? What if they found Eden? “I’m sure that DJ’s set up your phone to be untraceable.” He hoped.

“He assures me that he has. I’m going to ask you one more time. Where are you, Ephraim?”

“San Francisco.” The lie came out smoothly. “Regina’s place was closed when I got there last night. Now I know why. I went to a place in San Fran that stocks my type.”

“Right,” Pastor said, and for once Ephraim couldn’t read his tone. “When will you return? Your sabbatical has run its course.”

“Considering I’ve been sick as a dog for part of it, that’s not really fair. I’m going to take a few days to get my body better, and then I’ll be back.”

“Bring me back some Frankenwaffle,” Pastor said, very mildly, then hung up.

“Shit, shit, shit.” That last part had sounded downright menacing. Ephraim’s hands had finally stopped shaking, but now they were shaking again as he typed Frankenwaffle into a Google search.

Sacramento. The waffle place was in Sacramento and there were no other locations.

He knows. He knows where I am. How did he know? Motherfucking hell.

He stared at his phone, realization dawning, and the dread in his gut grew even heavier. “Fucking hell.” He tried to pop the little SIM card from his phone, but his hands were shaking too hard—with fear and dread and cold fury. How dare they? How dare they keep tabs on him like this?

I am going to kill DJ Belmont.

He managed to yank the SIM card free, then got out of the car and placed the phone beneath his tire. A few passes under the tire left the phone crushed and useless. He snapped the SIM card in half, then dropped the pieces in the leftover travel mug he’d taken from Granny’s house. There wasn’t a lot of coffee left, but enough to damage the card eventually. He’d toss the mug and the card into the first dumpster he passed.

Motherfucking little prick. DJ had gone too far. Again. But this time he wouldn’t let him win.

Ephraim needed to get back to Eden, to stop the greedy bastard before he completely poisoned Pastor against him. DJ wanted it all. He wanted the power, the money. He wanted control of everyone and everything around Eden, and he’d toss Ephraim to the fucking wolves without a blink.