"I'll explain when you get back."
"If anything happens to that girl, whoever's responsible will pay." He said nothing, which told me all I needed to know. Namely, that my stupid, irresponsible twin brothers were involved in this mess.
I planned to eviscerate the pair of them, but first, we needed to track down our runaway princess before she got herself killed. Because if anything happened to Verity, my ass was on the line. Thea wouldn't hesitate to murder me if her sister ended up dead while in my care.
The fact I cared very much about Verity's safety was something I chose not to dwell on. There wasn't time. Not with her in danger.
"Call the driver," I told Connor while debating whether to call Milo. If anyone could find Verity, it was him. However, contacting Milo would alert Thea that something was wrong.
Dammit!
Did I really have a choice, though?
Decision made, I hit call.
35
Verity
Sweat trickled down my back as I stepped out of the cab. The driver muttered something derogatory when he saw my meager tip, but I was short on cash, and he'd been a surly asshole from the moment I jumped in his car.
Bunking in a crappy hostel wasn't my idea of fun, but hostel beds were cheap, and it would give me time to find paid work. Kate, the girl who worked at a hotel nearby, might not be here any longer; we hadn’t spoken in a while. The only reason I knew she'd found a job here was her posts on Instagram. And since I'd tossed my phone, I couldn't check it for updates.
Saoirse and Aoife were the only real friends I had, and I didn't even have them anymore. Aoife would take Saoirse's side when she found out about me and the twins. As an outsider, that was how it worked. Family first.
I picked up my bag and walked up to the reception, my nose wrinkling at the stench of weed drifting in from the terrace. A couple of girls wearing bikinis stumbled through a sliding glass door, and from the sound of splashing and pop music, the outdoor pool lay in that direction.
"Ciao, bella." The guy on the front desk gifted me a lazy smile as he lounged on his stool, an iPhone open on the Tinder app.
"Ciao. I need a bed for a few nights."
"You can share mine," he drawled while shamelessly checking me out. One of the bikini girls sauntered over and leaned over the desk. His eyes snapped from me to her tits almost immediately. I almost rolled my eyes at his blatant flirting, but decided it wasn't worth the effort.
"Thanks, but I prefer to sleep alone."
"Luigi, when do you finish work?" the blonde whined while twirling a lock of hair around her finger. I winced at how sunburned her shoulders were.
"In an hour,cara. Then we party!" He turned to grin at me. "Fancy joining us,bellissima?"
"No, thanks." Not to be deterred, the lovely Luigi sat forward, treating me to a glimpse of his too-tight shorts. It was obvious the idiot thought he had something going on I'd want, but unfortunately for him, Ronan and Conal had ruined me for all other men. "Long trip. Tired. So, is there a bed free?"
Luigi huffed dramatically but tapped on his keyboard for a moment. "It's fifteen Euros a night. Payable in advance."
I handed him enough cash for three nights. If I could find a job in that time, I'd look for somewhere else to stay. Noisy hostels weren't my jam.
"Bed seven, room five. Up the stairs, last door on the left."
I took the keycard and trudged upstairs as the music from the pool area ramped up by several decibels. It was going to be an interminable three days.
"Got any experience?" The fat guy behind the bar polished a glass and stared at my tits. This was the tenth place I'd tried inthe last two days, and I was rapidly losing hope. Nobody wanted to hire casual staff now the high season had ended.
If I'd arrived two months ago, jobs would have been readily available, but not now.
This shitty club was one of the few places still looking for staff, or so Luigi had told me. Once he realized I wasn't interested in blowing him, he'd backed off.
"I've worked in bars for the last two years," I told the man while wishing I'd worn something looser. "I can make cocktails and serve food." My cocktail making skills were abysmal, but I could manage some of the simpler ones.
"OK, fine, the job's yours. Can you start tonight?" Hmm, maybe he didn't actually care how well I could do the job. He must be desperate.
