Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(52)

“No.” I picked up my bag and draped it over my shoulder. “I’m just going to go out.”

Tink leaned over the back of the couch. “I can go with you.”

I raised an eyebrow as I picked up my keys.

“Not like this. I haven’t gotten around to buying a shirt yet, but I can make myself small and you can put me in your purse,” he offered.

“I am not putting you in my purse.”

Tink folded his extremely well-muscled arms over an extremely well-defined chest. “It could work. I can help you look for Ren.”

I walked to the door. “Maybe next time.” I stopped, thinking of something I should’ve done a long time ago. “Order a new phone from Amazon for me, one that comes with an answering machine.”

Tink wrinkled his nose. “Why? I don’t use the house phone.”

I exhaled noisily through my nose. “I know, but I can call it and leave you messages. Like if I’m running late or if there’s a problem.”

“Oh.” His gaze roamed to the ceiling. “Good idea. I bet I can one-hour that shiz. Let me see.” He started toward the kitchen, and I couldn’t, God help me, couldn’t help but notice how low his jeans hung and that he really had a—oh God, no! I blinked tightly as Tink itched at his scalp. “I just realized I’ve never used the home phone to call you before. I could have kept tabs on you. How have I not thought of that?”

“Guess my luck with that just wore off,” I muttered. “Order it, please.”

I left before Tink could convince me to bring him with me, which wouldn’t be hard, because there was a part of me that kind of wanted to stash him in my purse. With the way things were going down, he was a good ace to have up my sleeve.

I caught an Uber into the Quarter and got dropped off on Decatur. I walked past Cafe Du Monde and crossed the street, entering the park.

It was early enough that it was relatively quiet as I made my way down the pathway. Frost covered the grass, and if it were a couple of degrees cooler, my breath would be leaving little puffy mists.

I really needed a better game plan than busting up on random doorsteps. I could go back to headquarters and pour over the intel that we did have on best possible places. If I could find a fae that wouldn’t kill itself immediately, I could possibly find the prince—find Drake.

I stopped in front of the statue of Jackson and folded my arms around my waist. Maybe that was why I was out here. Maybe, deep down, I came to this park because I’d seen the prince here before. Tink was right. Being out here, hoping to lure the prince out, was stupid, but if Ren was missing, it had something to do with him.

If anything happened to him, I could never forgive myself. I hadn’t even really forgiven myself over what had happened to Shaun yet, and that seriously had been my fault. I’d made a horrible series of choices that inevitably led to his death, along with my adoptive parents, Holly and Adrian.

I looked up at the statue of Jackson, exhaling roughly. I knew that I hadn’t done anything on purpose other than getting close to Ren, but God, I didn’t want to go through this again. I didn’t want to—

“Ivy.”

My heart stopped in my chest. I recognized that voice. I knew that voice. Half-afraid it was my imagination, I turned around slowly. My breath caught in my throat, and emotion exploded in me like a Roman candle.

Ren stood behind me.





Chapter Eighteen


“Ren,” I whispered, staring up at him, almost not believing he was standing there. Suddenly I was tossed back in time, to the first time I’d seen him.

I’d lay bleeding on the steps of the headquarters from a nifty little gunshot wound, and I’d thought I was seeing things. He’d reminded me of one of the angels painted on the ceilings of old churches. It sounded ridiculous, but the classic hard line of his jaw and those chiseled features had been almost perfectly pieced together. Even the mess of curly waves was like the painted angels I’d always been fascinated with. I’d seen a ton of hot guys before, especially since moving to New Orleans. Sometimes the city was a melting pot of hotness, but Ren could hold his own compared to a fae, and that was saying something.

He reminded me of that now, standing before me like an avenging angel.

My heart pounded so fast that I felt sick, and I spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Where have you been?”

Ren stepped closer, so that he was standing under the shadow of Jackson with me. “I’ve been around.”

“David has been trying to call you. I’ve called. I thought . . .” I took a deep breath, willing my heart to slow down, but nervous energy had taken over. Standing in front of him now that he knew I was the halfling was seriously overwhelming. “I thought at first you just disappeared because of what I told you about myself. And then I feared that the prince had taken you—oh God, I haven’t even told you about all of that.” I winced. “I was going to tell you. I swear, but you left after I told you about me being the halfling, and I didn’t get the chance to tell you everything.”

“Ivy—”

“I saw the prince twice. He was actually here, just outside the park, the first time I left the apartment, and he showed up when I chased Val.” I rushed on, needing to get it all out before he uttered another word. “He was the one who killed Val, Ren. He knocked her right off the rooftop like she was nothing but a discarded . . .” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Like a piece of trash. Then you came to see me, and I’d planned on telling you the truth earlier in the evening before Henry interrupted us. I couldn’t go another second without you knowing, so I told you and then you disappeared—”