“Young man, you shouldn’t be on your phone right now,” the nurse scolds, her eyebrows forming a deep V. “You’re in serious shape.”
I tune her out and tap the notification, eager to see the coordinates. Shock ricochets down my spine when I triangulate the location.
And it’s…
“Here,” I breathe.
“What?” The nurse stops. “Here? What’s here?”
Dazed, I rip the IV out of my arm and hop off the cot.
“Sir, you can’t do that. You need to have an X-ray. Sir!”
Her voice gets fainter as I walk and then jog and then run to the elevator. My finger stabs the button until the doors slide apart.
Jinx is here.
This makes no sense. It has to be a joke.
But the coordinates are clear.
The anonymous poster who’s been wreaking havoc in Redwood Prep, in my brothers’ life, inmylife… is inside this building.
Chapter Six
J
I watch Bailey “run into” Shawn in the stairwell. The hospital surveillance system isn’t equipped with speakers, but it’s simple enough to access Shawn’s mike through his phone.
“I lost my grandmother’s necklace, and I can’t find it.” Bailey is wailing and pointing at the elevator. “Can you help me?”
Shawn looks uneasily at the elevator and then at Bailey.
“Come on, Shawn,” I mumble to the camera. “Get in the elevator.”
He hesitates a few more seconds. His claustrophobia must be awful if Bailey’s flirting isn’t enough to get him in there.
“Please?”Bailey throws herself at Shawn and clings to him, making sure her body flattens against his chest. “I would be sooo grateful.”
She bats her eyelashes.
Wow. The money I transferred to Bailey’s account was decent, but notthisdecent. I get the feeling her flirting is organic. Poor thing. She’s blinded by Shawn’s beautiful face and chiseled body. She has no idea that he’s a prick who beats his wife.
Sliding her hand down his shoulder to his arm, Bailey whispers so low that Shawn’s phone barely catches it.“I’d do anything.”
The word “anything” is paired with her guiding Shawn’s hand onto her butt where he squeezes it tightly.
I’m watching their risqué little show from my computer, and Iknowthat Shawn’s a goner. His shoulders—that had been tense the moment Bailey suggested he get on the elevator—loosen, and he sways toward her, bringing his face close to hers.
“Okay,” he says hoarsely.
One corner of my lips tilts up, and I relax against the back of my chair in victory.
It’s done.
He’s not going to question why this random, beautiful woman is suddenly throwing herself at him. He’s not going to think about his wife, with her fractured ribs and bruised eyes and her hospital bag, waiting to go home. He’s not even going to weigh the cost of getting in a small, enclosed box when he suffers from claustrophobia.
Nothing else matters but getting between Bailey’s long, toned legs as fast as possible.
