I miss you. Want to hang out soon?

Violet would, of course. The girl was infatuated with Nat, wanted to date her, wanted to build something with her. And now, Nat wanted that, too. She would unblock the younger girl from her phone. When she responded, Nat would arrange to see her, to kiss her, to make love to her. In the end, it would be a disaster. Violet would be crushed; Celeste would be pained. But Gabe would be totally and utterly destroyed. And bringing him down was all that mattered now.

44

Smooth Jazz

Jesus Christ. The bitch was even crazier than Gabe had thought. At his rendezvous at the zoo, he’d told the man to handle the situation in the next week or so. But her outburst, her threats, her obvious mental illness changed everything. Natalie had to be disposed of now, before she had a chance to talk to Violet, before she could contact Celeste. When he’d put several blocks between himself and the outraged girl, he dug his cell from his pocket.

“Take care of it,” he growled into the phone. “Tonight. I’ll give you an extra five grand.”

He hadn’t wanted to pay more, but the matter needed to be expedited. And the guy, the handler, was a professional; money was his language. The man was going to break into Natalie’s apartment and be waiting when the girl came home. She was small and weak. She’d probably be drunk (she was always drunk lately). The man would take her out easily, take her phone, her laptop, and any other evidence of Gabe’s existence. Another break-in gone wrong. And that would be the end. Gabe would likely never even hear about it.

He couldn’t go home to his apartment or downtown to his office. He couldn’t go anywhere where Natalie might find him. When he’d spotted her standing by his pool with his daughter, he had felt panic and fear. But this was different—more visceral, even mortal. She had threatened to kill him, and he believed she would. The girl was a deranged alcoholic consumed by rage. If she got her hands on a weapon, she would murder him in a second.

After a few more blocks, his heart rate began to slow, and his head began to clear. He’d been overwrought, panicking. Natalie wasn’t going to try to murder him. She didn’t have a gun or a knife. And she was just a kid. An angry, obsessive kid, but that was because she loved him, because she wanted him back. Killing him would negate the possibility of a reunion. Sticking out his arm, he hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take him to his apartment uptown. As he sat in the back, he checked his phone. There was a text from his wife.

Have you heard from Violet? She’s not answering my texts.

Of course, he hadn’t. Despite his recent efforts, his daughter was still cool and distant with him. She wouldn’t reach out in her time of romantic turmoil. He wrote back to his wife.