“Brody, come on?—”
“I’m not doing this.” I plow ahead, past the Mediterranean-style pool and old sycamore encircled with daisies, and march toward the glass doors.
She’s got a lot of nerve.
As I reach for the door handle, a hand grips my forearm with surprising strength. Shoving past me, Trinity glares before plastering on a bright smile for the pink-polo wearing, middle-aged man behind the desk.
I guess she wants to be in charge. Fine. As long as we gain possession of the drive, I don’t care.
“Kenny?” She extends her hand. “Hi, I’m Trinity Gallagher. I’ll be moving into?—”
“205-A. Trinity, it’s so nice to meet you in person.” Kenny rises and shakes her hand, his eyes crinkling like a happy grandfather’s. His accent isn’t as thick as I expected, but he’s still got some Texas twang.
His gaze drifts to me, his brown eyes widening as he checks me over.
Not the first guy to size me up and decide to proceed with caution.
Trinity loops her arm through mine, which draws Kenny’s attention. “This is my boyfriend, Brody. He drove and will be doing all the heavy lifting.”
She gives my forearm a squeeze. Guess we’re playing the boyfriend game after all.
I plant a closed-lipped smile on my face, determined to suffer through niceties for now so I can get my revenge later.
“I can see that.” Kenny relaxes, the easy grin returning to his face. “You’re not due to move in for another three days, so the apartment’s not quite ready yet, but I can take you over to see it if you want. They’re just finishing up the paint, I think.”
“Oh, no. I don’t want to be a bother.” Trinity waves a hand toward the doorway behind Kenny. “I was actually just hoping you might have a package for me. I had it delivered here, yesterday maybe.”
“You know what, I believe I do. Hold on one second, hon.”
Kenny disappears through the door, and Trinity and I exchange a quick look of relief.
The man returns with a small brown package covered inhandle with carestickers. Your average delivery through the postal service.
Could be candy or photos, but instead it’s decades worth of dirt on the Gallaghers. A grenade in a cardboard box.
Trinity opens her palm, but I grab the parcel with a sharp grin.
“I got it, babe. I’m the muscle, right?”
Kenny laughs. “I think he’s a keeper.”
“Yeah. Definitely.” Trinity’s lips tighten at the corners as she tugs on my arm. “We should get out of your hair. Thanks, Kenny. See you in a few days.”
Outside, Trinity spins around and glares. “You almost blew our cover. You need to watch that resting enforcer face.”
“Whatever. We got it, didn’t we?” I shake the box, and the rattle soothes the ragged edge in my chest. “Now what?”
Trinity exhales. “I need to call Finn and?—”
“Shit.” I grasp her arm and yank her behind the van, out of sight of the main road.
She stumbles, scraping her elbow on the passenger mirror. “What the hell?”
Four black Escalades, windows tinted darker than coal, turn down the street toward the apartment complex.
I point through the windshield. “We’ve got company.”
They must have discovered Trinity’s lease here. There’s no other way they tracked us down.
