Page 21 of Savage Surrender

“You’re right. One handsome idiot and you.”

He huffs and lowers the crate lid. He takes his time straightening, though. Bianca’s death grip left him walking carefully, a fact he has somehow turned into a personal triumph.

“I’m still pissed you got to kiss her,” he says.

“On the temple. It was practically a handshake.”

It wasn’t. Her hair was damp, and she smelled like her and us, and she let me touch her. Maybe two seconds but still. I’m pathetic. I don’t care.

Owen looks at me, genuinely irritated. “I don’t understand how my dick is bruised and you kiss her and... you get no punishment for that.”

“Some of us have charm. Others threaten to tie her to a bed before breakfast.”

“She likes that.”

“She nearly tore your dick off.”

His mouth twitches. The bastard is gloating. I should have expected this. She buried a shiv in his thigh the first time we saw her again, and he spent the rest of the day acting like she’d given him an engagement ring.

“My dick must like the violence,” he says. “I’ve been hard ever since.”

Of course he has.

“Getting mauled isn’t the same as being forgiven.”

“As soon as we have some privacy, I’ll beg for her forgiveness relentlessly.”

Get in line, buddy.

Tristan sits cross-legged on the destroyed common-room floor, his father-issued work laptop on one knee and a legal pad open on the other. Weller stands at the window with one arm tucked close to his ribs, watching the lawn.

“Tell me something good.” I drop the basket.

“The west camera swings wide when it pans toward the garage,” Tristan says without looking up. “There’s a window at the end of the second-floor hall that belongs to no one for one full rotation. It’s narrow, but it’s there for the taking.”

“We found some things we might be able to use in that storage room at the end of the hall. Fireworks, rope, an ass ton of sheets.”

Weller turns. “The tunnels are welded shut. I double-checked. A blind spot and a distraction are more than we had this morning.”

“Mason has access to everything,” Tristan says, sounding deliriously pleased. “Every ledger, document, photo, recording. Every piece of dirt and blackmail they have. As soon as we’re clear, we’re releasing all of it. They’re dead men walking.”

“We need to be far away from them or else we’ll be the dead ones,” I say.

“It will be open season,” Weller says. His voice remains level, but he’s enjoying this. Weller, enjoying anything. “Once the material is public, they stop being untouchable and become targets. It will keep them occupied while we run.”

“I would feel better about the plan if I could get ahold of my mom.”

Tristan looks at the screen again and opens a messaging app. “Mason has a private investigator he trusts looking for your mom. Michael and Rex are still at boarding school, and Mason has eyes on them. The contact numbers we have may not be current.”

“What about Emma?” Owen asks.

“She’s with your mother at her mother’s family villa in Lake Como. Mason verified the location.” Tristan’s fingers pause over the phone. “She’s out of Vincent’s house. She isn’t out of his control. He still controls their money, and he’s still arranging a pack for her.”

Owen says nothing, but his scent sharpens.

“My mother and the twins are at the vacation house in Saint-Tropez,” Tristan continues. “Weller’s mother is on her family’s yacht. The only person we haven’t put eyes on is your mom. We’ll find her, Freddie.”

Mom doesn’t disappear. She sleeps with the ringer all the way up because what if one of you boys needs me?