Infamous: the page-turning thriller from New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël

“You’re not a doctor, you know.” She winced as Paul went about surveying her ankle.

“Not by profession, but I’ve tended far worse.”

She shrugged, but what she really wanted to do was scream. She wasn’t kidding about being mad. Most days it was the only thing that fueled her. But she wasn’t mad at Paul, or at least not entirely.

“Ow!” She leaned forward and swiped at his hand.

He pulled away. “You know what they say about sprains. . . .”

“That they’re worse than a clean break.”

He nodded. “Definitely true in your case. Though at least some of the swelling is starting to subside.”

“How soon can I return to my Spin Cycle class?”

Paul lowered his glasses onto his nose and stared at her from over the thin metal rims. “Don’t push it. It’s not safe for you out there.”

Her lips dragged to a frown. “I can’t take much more of this,” she said. “Tell me you’ve at least narrowed it down to a few suspects.”

Wordlessly, Paul crossed the room and returned with a stack of magazines for her to read while he went about rewrapping her leg. She’d prefer the use of a phone or a tablet, but Paul had banned anything that could be easily hacked or traced back to them. On a good day, Paul was paranoid, but lately he’d taken it to a whole new level. His palpable unease did nothing to quell her own gnawing fears.

She flipped through the stack. Her face was on every cover, alongside pictures of Layla, Tommy, Aster, and Ryan. It was as though they’d become as famous as her.

Also like her, they were locked up now too.

Madison traced her finger across Ryan’s mug shot. There was a time when she’d considered him a suspect, but the idea didn’t stick. At one point, she’d mentally accused all of them. Thoughts were the only things she had to keep from going insane. But now that she was free, she realized none of those thoughts held any weight.

Though Paul was right about revenge. The elaborate retribution fantasies she’d plotted in her head were pretty much the only thing that had gotten her through. Well, that and her refusal to find herself on the losing end of whatever messed-up game she’d been cast in.

She pushed the magazines aside. She was in no mood to read them. “Do they still think it’s you?”

Paul finished wrapping her ankle, then reached for her hand and inspected the pinkie finger she’d broken a few weeks earlier that he’d had to reset. “What do you mean—suspect or victim?”

“I suppose one will overrule the other, but have they identified the body?”

“They’ve determined it’s not you.” He let go of her hand and grabbed two pillows to prop under her ankle.

“Just a matter of time before they learn it’s not you either. So who is it then?” She watched him carefully. The body had been found on Paul’s property.

“Why would you think I’d know?”

She continued to stare.

“You honestly think I’m dumb enough to bury a body on my own property?”

He made a good point. “What about Ira Redman?”

“Alive and kicking, last I checked.”

“No, I mean as a suspect.”

Without missing a beat, Paul said, “He’s on the list.”

Madison wondered if he’d realized the irony of his words. Ira ran the hottest clubs in town, where everyone vied for a spot on the list, and now Ira had earned a spot on Paul’s list. She looked at Paul’s bland expression and determined the joke was lost on him.

“Okay, so if we don’t know who, then how about why? Why would someone go to the trouble of setting up Ryan, Aster, Layla, and Tommy, and how is it connected to me? Who have I wronged who would do such a thing?”

The words echoed between them as Paul shot her a patient look.

“Fine.” She huffed. “So I’ve made a few enemies along the way.” She cast a sideways glance at Paul. As usual his expression was impossible to decipher. “But clearly it’s either someone from my past, or someone who knows about my past as well as my connection to you. Against all odds they managed to uncover a picture of me as a kid. Same pic they sent you. Also, the walls of my first cell were papered with that image. There’s only one person I can think of, but that’s impossible, right? I mean, it couldn’t possibly be—”

Before she could finish, Paul pressed a cool hand to her forehead and said, “Don’t go getting yourself wound up now, okay? I’m handling it.”

Madison shrank beneath his touch. It was the most she’d spoken at once in a very long while, and it left her feeling exhausted and spent.

Thanks to her injuries and overall traumatized state, Paul had kept her on a steady stream of pain pills that left her heavily sedated. Most of the time it felt like her brain had turned to mush. Madison was just starting to realize the huge toll that had taken. “I don’t understand what this is all about,” she finally said, her voice little more than a whisper. “What do they want from me?”

Paul shot her a sobering look. “It’s about destroying you and everything you’ve worked so hard to build.”

Madison was jolted by his words. It was the first time he’d said anything like that. Or at least that she could recall. She rubbed her eyes, forced herself to think, to try to capture remnants of past conversations they’d had. But from the moment that bullet whizzed past her face and into that creep’s head, everything had been a muted, blood-spattered, medicated blur. And yet she was sure this was the first time Paul had ever said such a thing.

Did Paul actually know more than he was letting on?

Had he been holding out on her all along?

“But who would do that?” She spoke slowly, as though carefully handpicking each word. When really, she just wanted to prolong the conversation so she could better observe him. “Who would be so jealous and spiteful and bent on revenge?” She tried to see Paul without bias, as though it was the first time they’d met.

Was he involved?

Was there a clue she might’ve missed?

When he trained his focus on her, she immediately shifted her gaze toward the far side of the room. She couldn’t risk him capturing even a twinge of doubt on her face.

The silence stretched between them, broken when he said, “That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He rose to his feet and pushed the plate toward her. “Now eat.” His tone was paternal, but Madison was on edge. “We need to leave soon. It’s just a matter of time before someone stops by, and we can’t afford to leave any trace of us behind.”

Dutifully, Madison picked at her food as Paul expertly wiped down the room. She spied the gasoline can he’d left near the door. He’d probably use it to douse the place, then light a match and drive away. They’d watch the flames from the rearview mirror as he took her to one of the many safe houses he kept.

It was the same MO he’d used when he burned down her childhood home. It was only now she was beginning to think maybe that hadn’t worked out quite as well as he’d led her to believe.

“Where are you taking me?” She watched through lowered lids as he approached with yet another pain pill and a tall glass of water. Briefly, she considered trying to refuse, but she was in no position to fight. For the time being at least, it was better to play along.

Paul stood over her, watching as she placed the pill on her tongue and pretended to wash it down. “The less you know, the better,” he said.

Satisfied, he carried the glass to the sink and washed it clean of prints. After drying it in a way that left it glistening and smudge free, he smashed it hard against the wall and stared as it shattered into tiny, glittering bits.

With his back turned, Madison spit the pill onto her palm and mashed it between her fingers until it morphed into a thin, grainy paste she wiped onto the sheets. She was surprised it had taken her so long to question Paul’s motives. Especially considering how hard it was for her to trust anyone. She’d learned from a young age that when it came right down to it, she had only herself to rely on. And yet, for the better part of her life, she’d depended on Paul with no questions asked. But now she couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a mistake.

There was something off about him. Something he was purposely holding back. While she couldn’t quite put her finger on it—the drugs had left her brain too cloudy for that—Madison had always relied on her instincts, and at that moment, every cell in her body was telling her it was time to take back control of her life.