Page 20 of Boss and Brat

She bumped him with her hip. “Better than Dad eating you alive.”

He snorted. “Too late.”

They moved down the aisle, the cart rattling over a loose tile. Sarah reached for another pack of ribs, then paused. “Hey,” she said, “why aren’t you staying at home?”

Ethan kept his eyes on the meat case. “Dad dumped me and my stuff in the old green barn.”

She froze, hand hovering over more steaks. “He what?”

“He didn’t want me in the house.”

Sarah’s jaw tightened. She didn’t argue. Didn’t defend him. Didn’t defend their father. She just grabbed the steaks and dropped them into the cart harder than necessary.

“Mom didn’t say anything,” she muttered.

“Dad told me not to talk to you or her.”

Her eyes flicked up, sharp and angry. “He doesn’t get to decide that.”

Ethan shrugged and pushed the cart toward the checkout. “He thinks he does.”

They unloaded the groceries onto the belt. Sarah helped bag everything, her movements quick and tight, like she was trying not to explode in the middle of the store.

Ethan reached the truck and set the grocery bags in the bed. Sarah hovered beside him, shifting her tote higher on her shoulder. The red passport holder peeked out again, bright against her shirt.

He touched her elbow. “Hey… I need you to go through Dad’s laptop. Find the file he has on me.”

Sarah’s fingers tightened around the strap of her tote. Not a freeze—more like a slow, careful grip, the way she held a pen when she was thinking through a translation. Her eyes flicked toward the parking lot entrance, checking for their father’s truck even though she knew he wasn’t coming.

“Ethan…” Her voice thinned, not from fear but calculation. She pressed her lips together, the way she did when conjugating something tricky in French. “Why?”

“He gave a copy to Higgins.”

“If he catches me, he’ll pull my trip. He’ll pull everything.”

“I know,” Ethan said. “But I need it.”

She looked down at her tote again, thumb-brushing the edge of her passport holder. Paris wasn’t just a trip for her—it was her escape, independence, the first thing she’d earned without their father’s fingerprints on it. Risking that wasn’t small.

She stepped closer for a hug. Not a dramatic hug—just a quick, firm press of her forehead to his shoulder, a gesture she’d done since they were kids. A quiet, private thing.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try. Only when he’s out. And if anything feels off, I’m stopping.”

Ethan nodded. His stomach twisted. He hadn’t meant to drag her into his mess. But he needed that file. Needed to know what Higgins had read about him.

She stepped back, wiping her eyes as if dust had gotten into them. “And, Ethan? Don’t let him make you feel like you’re nothing.”

He nodded, throat tight. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed his arm once more, then headed for her car, passport holder bouncing against her hip.

Ethan climbed into the driver’s seat and let out a long breath. The cab smelled of dust and old leather. For a second, he wished he could stay right there in that moment with his sister close and no rules breathing down his neck. He smirked, ready to start the engine—then paused. Something tugged at him. He unlocked his phone to check the time, thumb brushing over the screen—then froze.

Chapter Nine

Atracking app sat in the corner of a folder he never used. Not his. Not something he’d downloaded. The icon stared back at him like an open eye.

Heat shot through his chest, fast and violent. Carter had put a tracker on him. Just like his father. No warning. No conversation. No trust—just surveillance dressed up as responsibility.