Sloane squints at me. “What does that even mean? Never mind. Chuck, may I please have the diary?”
“Only person I’d give it to,” Chuck replies.
He marches Uncle Guido out of the museum, handing the diary off to Sloane on his way, leaving the two of us alone inside.
With Sloane still gripping my hand.
And my cock noticing.
She frowns as she looks at the book in her other hand. “This isn’t the diary.”
“What do you mean, this isn’t the diary?”
“This isn’t the same diary that Pop has. It’s not Pop’s Thorny Rock diary.”
I stare at the leather-bound book in her hand. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Pop’s cover is blue. This cover is brown. Pop’s cover has a sail burned into the leather on the top corner. This cover doesn’t. It’s not the same diary.” She unclasps her hand from mine so she can flip it open gingerly. “And those aren’t the same pages that I copied for you that I’ve spent the whole night looking at.”
Fuck.
So whose diary is it?
And where did it come from?
Gonna have to read this one too. See if the handwriting matches.
Fuck me.
Did someone else find the real treasure?
“Stay here,” I tell her.
“What? Why? Where are you going?”
“To check the rest of the museum.”
She blinks at me, then grabs my hand again. “How much more security do we need?”
Isn’t that the question?
Since she won’t let go, she comes with me as I sweep the building, making sure no one else is hiding out in any bathrooms or corners or in any hollow cases beneath any displays.
Chuck joins us, giving me a side-eye.
Yeah, yeah, I know.
Leave security to the security people.
Especially if Sloane insists on checking everything out too.
We all finally agree the museum is empty.
Chuck strategically parks himself with a view of both the front door and the entryway to the bathrooms.
Sloane and I head back to the workroom.
She’s still holding my hand.
