Besides, I’d rather not watch my sister ogleanyguy.
Maeve raises a brow at him. “What’s going on?”
He gives a little shake of his head but says nothing more.
“I can tell when something’s bothering you.” She leans her head against his shoulder.
Check, please.
Kellin sighs. “I just got a call from Finn.”
Muscles tighten in my core.
“Everything all right?” Maeve sips more of her wine.
“Trinity, Finn’s baby sister, is missing.” Kellin’s eyes darken like he’s picturing murder. He probably is. “He talked to her in the morning, but then he also tried to get ahold of her after theceremony and couldn’t reach her. He spoke with her security detail, and apparently she gave them the day off. When they went to the campus to check, they couldn’t find any sign of her.”
Maeve’s gaze snaps to mine.
Fuck. Caught.
“This sounds like a personal family matter. I should get going.” I rise without waiting for a reply or my steak, hoping like hell the hasty exit doesn’t arouse Kellin’s suspicions.
Worry simmers in Maeve’s big eyes. “Brody?—”
“I’ll grab a phone and call you later.”
With a quick wave, I haul ass out of the restaurant.
Can this day get any worse?
Now that Kellin knows Trinity’s missing, he’ll figure out the culprit soon enough. And when that happens, all hell will break loose.
I need to grab Trinity and get out of here. Immediately.
Before this mission falls apart even more.
Chapter 10
Trinity
Screw him.
I can’t believe I kissed him. I can’t believe he kissed me.
Even if I find his strength and rugged voice sexy as hell, I hate him.
The seduction game didn’t work, and I’d rather not embarrass myself by trying again.
Because I hate him.
I yank on my left leg, but it’s still cuffed to the bedside table. I need to free myself. Quickly. Who knows where Brody went or how long he’ll be there?
I reach for the alarm clock and lift my leg as high as I can. Then, summoning all the helpless fear and rage I’ve accumulated over this day, I smash the digital clock against the wood.
Over and over, I slam the device into the bedside table until plastic and metal begin to fracture. Once the clock’s in sufficient fragments, I sift through the sharp-edged rubble for a shard that’s about the right size and length to pick the lock.
I fidget with the metal, threading the shard through the keyhole. Lock-picking is a childhood activity I associate with Finn and Dad. After what happened with Angelica, they did a lotto get me through the trauma. Nothing helped, but still. They tried to train me in self-defense so I could gain my confidence back. And Finn taught me lock-picking so that I’d never be trapped by a pair of handcuffs.
