Page 392 of The Romance Adventure

Our oldest brother steps in and says, “We’re not traveling down this road.”

“The question is, what is this road?” Ryan asks.

“Chip left us a quest in his will, not her,” Royal grinds out.

Eyes on the twins, in a low tone, he says, “Brothers.” It’s a warning shot.

He and I have never had one of those late nights where we swap war stories—granted, I wasn’t in a war, but I’ve been in the field a long time and have taken a few bullets. Thankfully, he and I have never gone head-to-head either, but if there’s anything a professional knows, it’s to avoid conflict if possible.

I give him a nod, grateful.

Eyes on Jolie, more like a laser beam death stare, Magnus says, “Jolie, let it go.” It’s not a suggestion or a casual statement. No, it’s an order.

Everyone falls completely quiet. No scratching of skin, shifting of fabric, or long exhales.

It’s just eight hearts pumping hard, probably all of us wondering if we’re going to walk out of here still as a family.

Turning to them, I say, “On behalf of my wife, I apologize. As it stands, it looks like we’re both seeking the same treasure.” Turning to Jolie, I gesture between us.

“Why’d she betray us?” Isla whispers.

With my brothers and the others at my back, I say, “It’s us and you. We can be at odds. Or we can work together.”

“But how can we if we can’t trust her?” Harley asks.

Lips forming a thin line, I say, “I have faith she’ll make the right choice.”

“Family over fortune,” Lally mutters.

But I don’t think that’s what this is about.

“It’s up to you, Jolie. Can we trust you? Or should we escort you out of here?”

“She’s not staying,” Ryan says.

Jolie fixes her gaze on me. “If I leave, officials will be waiting for me at the exit to these grounds, and they will take me into custody.”

“What is she talking about?” Royal asks.

“I think she’s a pirate,” Isla says.

“Yeah, her costume was way too good on Halloween,” Harley adds.

“Modern pirates don’t dress like that, guys.” Lally looks at Jolie and me carefully.

“What officials?” Ryan asks.

“Official officials,” I say.

The twins’ foreheads furrow and never have they looked so much alike.

“Jolie is on a job. I am too, though not this one,” I say, revealing as little as possible.

“Is she an art thief? If you take one look at my murals, lady...” Isla narrows her eyes.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Harley whispers.

“You can speculate all you want, but I can’t tell you or I’d have to⁠—”