He stands and slides his hands into his pockets. “I’ll take you home, then.”
They walk off and I don’t follow. There’s no need, because at this point I know that Blair isn’t going to let him kiss her, not after he lied like that.
The best thing for me to do—the only thing, really—is to lean back on the bench, stretch my arms over the back of it and bask in this small victory.
That’s one point for Devlin and negative points for Storm.
Maybe, just maybe I can turn this whole thing around.
I’m beginning to relax when a message comes over my phone. It’s from Hands. He’s probably asking when I’ll be back. But when I open the message, my heart stops.
There’s a picture of Hands beside a broken kitchen window. There’s a long cut down his thumb, and blood is gushing fromthe wound. The words, SOMEONE TRIED TO BREAK IN, are printed below the picture.
Before I can even think, I magic myself away, praying that I reach my friend in time.
21
As I was walking off with Storm, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Devlin look at his phone and then vanish. Instinctively I know something is wrong.
As soon as Storm drops me off at my house, I rush over to Devlin’s, racing to his front door.
Have I fallen and hit my head? Why am I so worked up?
Because there is no reason why Devlin would have left in such a hurry unless something is wrong.
“Devlin,” I call, entering the house.
“The kitchen,” he answers.
Relief immediately floods my body like a shot of adrenaline. He’s here. But that relief vanishes when I enter the room and see Hands. A bandage has been placed under his thumb and Hands is shaking—both of them.
Fear lodges itself in my throat, and it takes all my focus to arm wrestle it back down. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Devlin rises from a chair and moves to the sink. “Hands is okay. Someone broke in while we were on your date.”
“What?” Hands starts moving furiously. “I think it’s saying something,” I tell Devlin.
He finishes drying his hands and glances over his shoulder, watching Hands before he looks at me. “Someone broke in. Hands fought them off. The would-be thief wore black, so he didn’t get a look at them.”
“But who? Why?”
He levels his golden-green eyes on me. “Don’t know. I sent the video footage to my security team.”
I scrunch my face in confusion. “First of all—you have a security team? And secondly, what about the police?”
He tips his head and shrugs. “In answer to your second question, the police have already been here. To your first question—my security keeps an eye on the house and travels with me when I need them to. The house has many wards on it, so I don’t need them here most of the time. But whoever did this broke every single ward, which means they’re experienced. It also means that from now on, at least while you’re here, someone will watch the house.” He wags a finger at me. “I’ll give you three guesses as to who’s behind this, and the first two don’t count.”
“It’s not Storm,” I reply, sounding doubtful even to myself.
“Who else has the most to gain from my inventions?” Devlin counters.
“Storm,” I mutter. “But it could be that someone just wanted money—gold, loot, jewels. You’re rich. You could have all of those stashed here somewhere.”
I pause for a moment before dropping my purse onto the floor and sliding into a seat across from Hands. “Are you okay?” Hands does a little thing that’s supposed to be a nod—I think. “Is there anything that I can do?”
He brushes one hand with the fingers of the other, and I get it—it wants a massage. So I give Hands a little semi-massage, making sure to rub between the fingers and knuckles. When I’m done, Hands is lying flat on the table, completely relaxed.
This whole time, Devlin’s been watching from the sink, glowering. “Hands, if you’re feeling better, why don’t you get some rest?”
