“Damn, we really shoulda texted him first,” Layla said. “And now I forgot my phone.”
We’d all “forgotten” our phones. A lie-rent or another of Magnum’s minions had probably placed a tracker in Bonnie. But we knew for a fact our phones were being tracked. No point making things any easier for them than they already were.
The guard arched a single brow, likely wondering how many groups of supposed teenagers would willingly leave their phones behind.
I leaned forward next to Layla: “We like taking regular tech breaks. Staring at screens too long’ll mess with your head. They’ve proven it leads to addictive behavior and can even affect intelligence levels.”
The guard’s one brow remained arched.
“Can’t you just call him?” Brady asked. “Tell him his nieces and nephews are here to see him?”
At the “nieces and nephews,” the guard’s lone brow lowered to join its companion.
Hunt leaned across Brady. “We’d really appreciate it, man. I’m just … I’m real out of sorts. I mean, what would you do? Do I suggest an abortion to her? Is that a total douchebag move? Or do I quit school to support both of them?” Hunt gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do I marry her?” His voice caught at the suggestion.
Hunt was as likely to ask someone like this guard for advice as I was, which was to say, not even a little bit. But Hunt was rocking his part.
The guard winced at the prospect of dispensing life-altering advice to strangers, or maybe it was that he knew Magnum would rip his ass to shreds if he advised the wrong path that didn’t line up with this week’s scripted narrative. Regardless of the reason, the guard said, “Give me a sec,” and stepped back into the guardhouse.
Hunt said,
Griffin said.
I said, having already considered the topic.
Layla said.
Brady said.
Hunt said, before clarifying.
Layla and I said together.
Ordinarily, saying the same thing would have made at least one of us squeal out a laughing, “Twinsies!” As it was, neither of us cracked a smile.
Layla added.
Brady muttered as the soldier exited the guardhouse.
Brady tilted his head up toward him as he stood, legs hip-width apart, in front of his window.
“I can’t reach Mr. Chase. He’s probably sleeping. However, you are on his preapproved visitor list.”
Layla chimed in with a delighted half sneer.
“I’ve alerted the guards stationed at the house. Drive on up and they’ll let you in. But if Mr. Chase is asleep, don’t disturb him. He needs his rest.”
“Of course,” Brady said. “We wouldn’t want todisturbhis rest.”
Griffin warned.
A hand on the steering wheel, Hunt leaned over Brady again. “Thanks for the assist, man. Uncle Magnum always knows just what to do, no matter how rough the situation. He’s the best.”
Layla said into our silent chat.
Girl just wouldn’t shut up. It was how she was made.
