He chuckles, shaking his head at me, as a deep black car pulls up to our door.
“There’s our ride, then. You ready?”
I fuss with my mascara, frowning at my appearance. “I don’t know about my hair, I think I?—”
He rolls his eyes and takes my hand. “Let’s go, lass. You lookfine.”
Islan and Paisley are in the back of the car. Both shoot daggers with their eyes at Mac when he gets in the car. There are two other men in the front of the car.
“Hello, girls,” Mac says. “Don’t you look lovely.”
Paisley rolls her eyes and Islan flips him off.
“Christ,” he mutters. “This will be a fuckin’ blast, eh?”
“Did you have anything to do with what happened last night?” Islan asks, glaring at him.
“Not sure what you mean,” he says.
She rolls her eyes and releases a shuddering breath. “Listen. You knowexactlywhat I mean, Mac.”
“Do I?” He’s getting that stony look I know pretty well by now. “Why don’t you fill us in?”
“WithAisla,” she says. Paisley looks away, her eyes looking out the window. I don’t miss the way her fingers twist in her lap, or the way she shifts uncomfortably.
“You know better than to ask questions,” he begins, but Islan cuts him off.
“Oh, comeoffit, Mac,Jesus.”
He grunts at her, working his jaw before replying. He looks to the front, but they don’t make a move.
“One of the staff was caught spying on us.”
“How do you know that?” Islan asks, frowning.
“Caught her with a notebook, all sorts of private information in it and some other things that didn’t make sense. That’s why I had you go to Paisley’s room.”
Islan nods.
“We had someone else to deal with, so I put her in a holding room while I sorted things out, and when I came back to question her, she’d escaped.”
Islan’s eyes widen. “Oh, no,” she says with mock concern, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “How awful. What if she tells all?”
Mac shakes his head. “You think this is fun and games, do you?”
“Of course not, but I’ll have you know that I was close with Aisla, and I hate how you treated her.”
“No one threatens the safety of the Clan,” he says soberly. “No one.”
“You say that, and yet you’re the one who?—”
Her gaze comes to mine, and she quickly looks away. She doesn’t finish her sentence. I wonder what she’s thinking. Do they suspect I have ulterior motives?
I wish I could assure them, but I don’t even know what to say or how.
“It’s a lovely day, though, isn’t it?” Paisley asks. She worries her lip, looking out the window.
“Aye,” I say, grateful for the subject change. But Islan isn’t finished.
