You're Next (Devil's Backbone, #3)

by Tate James

“Speak of the devil,” he drawled as Ashley’s best friend stormed in with a scowl set across her face. “Do come in, Carly, make yourself at home.” “Shut up, Bass,” she snapped. Then at Carter’s glare, she sucked a sharp inhale and paled noticeably. “Um, shit. I mean, sorry. Hi. Can I come in, please?”

That acknowledgment made me feel ill every time it entered my head. That I’d somehow fabricated his murder in my mind? It was fucked-up. As I hurried away from Dr. Evil and her wheelchair-bound patient, I caught her greeting carried on the breeze. “Good morning, Abby. How are you doing today?” I stumbled. Abby? Holy fuck. No.

He arched a brow, gesturing my cards again. “Ne m'oblige pas à jouer avec ces autres salopards. La moitié d’entre eux ne connaissent même pas leur propre nom.”