Jansen raises a hand, and I grimace. “No offense, but I’m not sure your new look is going to blend well here, Jay.” He’s wearing eyeliner. And black nail polish. Based on the kids and parents going in and out of this place, he’s going to stick out like a Campbell’s can in a Van Gogh.
“I’m probably out for the same reason,” RJ says, his face grim. I go to protest, but he shakes his head. “No. I’m going to stick out.”
I toss my keys to RJ. “Fine. I’ll go. But if he sees me, I’m not letting him just run out of here. Keep your phones handy.”
“Don’t get arrested,” Jansen says, grinning, following RJ back to the car. “I won’t bring Clara for conjugal visits if you do.”
I flip him off, and a woman squawks and covers her daughter’s eyes as they rush past us and into the building. Great. I’ve alreadyattracted attention.
The lobby opens to the fencing gym on the main floor and industrial metal stairs leading upstairs to a cross-fit gym. While RJ probably could have blended with the guys heading up the stairs, I’m definitely the best choice for the crowd of kids and parents. Besides Trips, I’m the bougiest bastard on our team. Everybody here is at least upper-middle class. And based on all the kids putting on and taking off their kits, we came between class times.
Across the way, the advanced class continues with their training, their swords whip-like as they maneuver across the floor.
The two students strike and parry, and even I can tell they’re good at this. The coach calls something out, the kids pull off their masks, and Mattie’s fire-red braid appears. I pull my phone out, weaving between groups of parents and kids, my only goal getting close enough for a clear picture. But I don’t see Bryce.
She moves to the sidelines, and I tuck myself half behind a nearby support column, holding my breath. She reaches for a water bottle, but I can’t see who’s handing it to her through the crowd. I step to the side of the pole, trying to get a better angle, leaning against the support like I’m supposed to be there. And then, a dad and his kids move toward the exit, and I get the view I needed, but desperately wished I wasn’t seeing.
Bryce’s hair is shorter, and he’s more built, but I still recognize him. Mattie looks up at him, a smirk on her lips as he says something to her. She laughs, and his smile grows wide.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were just like any other couple.
But I do know better. Much better.
So I snap picture after picture. One where their hands touch on the water bottle. One where he massages her forearm. One where she’s gazing up at him through her lashes, the heart eyes practically visible.
Sending the photos we got off his phone to the cops might not have the results we want, as we got them illegally. But offering these photos taken withmycamera, while legal, don’t show nearly as much.
I slip back through the crowd, wishing I could stay and do something, say something, but I know it’s impossible.
I don’t even know the girl.
According to RJ, she’s as stubborn as her brother, just as bullheaded, but with the snark of a teenage girl mixed into it. And she’s shut down their communication. We figure that means Clara and Trips caused some collateral damage giving us a chance to follow the blackmail to the storage units. In short, right now, we have no leverage to convince her to see Bryce with anything besides those damn heart eyes.
He’s painted a bullseye on himself, though. And we’re going to send as many arrows as we can at him.
He can’t dodge them all. The bastard can’t bethatslippery.
Chapter 44
Clara
The list stares at me, my guilt heavy like the gray sky outside. But there’s nothing I can do. It’s sent. It’s probably already being reviewed. The guys knew that. And even if they haven’t gotten my note yet, they wouldn’t send the list without my input.
So, what the hell happened that led them to include Bryce on what amounts to a hit list?
I’m pulled into the old man’s study before I can figure out how to word my text asking that exact question. Trips’ dad takes the phone back after congratulating me on the list, letting me know that Trips and I both get someone to stand with us at the wedding, so long as those someones aren’t Emma or Jansen.
I pass on Summer’s contact information, a little disappointed that I can’t get Emma through the door. The guys willhave to reach out to Trips before he chooses his guest. Too much has probably changed for him to pick blindly.
Our invite list amounts to two, plus my parents. Everybody else at my wedding will be there at the behest of the man pulling all our strings.
Late that night, in careful words, I explain to Trips what’s going on, our win coupled with my accidental guilt. But, like me, he has no choice but to trust that Bryce is on that list for a reason. He’s not as bothered by it as I am.
On Sunday, Summer gets ushered onto the estate, her dress fitting happening as soon as possible, the wedding date sneaking up on us. The hug she gives me is strong, genuine, and I almost cry. I stop myself, but her slightly pained grin says it all—she knows how fucked up this whole situation is, and she can see the toll it’s taking on me.
The dress fitting is the most fun I’ve had in months, though. Chatting, teasing, sipping on mocktails and eating expensive cheese with our fingers. It’s almost like I’m hanging out with an actual friend, not just someone I’ve worked with a handful of times.
If we get through this charade, we might get a chance at this friendship thing. And despite our rocky start, I think we could end up really good friends.
