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Head tilted, Katherine pulls something out of her purse. Her arm lifts, and with a mixture of a sneer and a smug smile, she takes a picture of me.
I press the gas pedal down, not paying attention that my signal has switched to red again. I go around her but cut off another car that was in the process of turning. The driver beeps at me, and I swerve just in time. Looking in the side mirror, I have a clear view of Rhys's ex. She moved all the way into the street—filming me.
"FUCK!" I hit the steering wheel. The burst of adrenaline is now accompanied by pounding in my ears.
"Did you just say the F-word, little sister?" my brother chuckles.
I totally forgot that he's on the line.
Forcing myself to calm my voice, I joke, "Can George make someone disappear for me?" Okay, maybe I’m a little serious.
"Why?" The humor is gone from his tone.
"I ran a red light, trying to get away from Katherine, and the bitch just took a video of me."
"You really know how to keep a low profile." Nate attempts to lighten the mood but achieves the opposite.
"Shut up." My eyes start to sting, and I blink.
"Want me to send her a virus?"
That makes me laugh, and my chest feels a little lighter. As much as I want to say yes, I reply, "She’ll find a way to blame that on me as well."
"It’s your call. Though, you could probably do it yourself with as good as you already are." Nate's praise distracts me from the Wicked Bitch, and the corners of my mouth turn up.
"I miss you, big brother." The words are out before I can think about it.
"I miss you, too, little sister." I can hear him smile as he returns the sentiment.
"I’m almost at the park. I’ll call you later, ‘kay?"
"Be careful. George is working on tracking down Turner. We need to figure out what he wants."
"I will."
Nate disconnects as I pull into the lot by the picnic area. I park next to the Defender and let the car idle as I watch Rhys sitting on one of the tables. He’s facing away with his feet planted on the bench below and his elbows resting on his thighs.
Getting out, I shove the phone into the back pocket of my black jeans. With everything going on today, I'm still wearing the clothes I had picked out for the press conference. A shiver runs through my body. It’s definitely too cold for what I’m wearing: a denim jacket over a thin tee.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I try to keep warm.
Rhys’s back is to me as I approach, and his voice startles me. "How did you find me?"
Climbing the picnic table, I take a seat next to him. "Nate."
I want to scoot close enough for our thighs to touch, but an invisible force won’t let me. It’s as if we’re two like poles of a set of magnets, repelling each other.
He huffs. "Of course." A little quieter, he adds, "And here I thought we still had the bond that always led us to one another."
What?
"What do you mean?" I ask, puzzled.
Rhys turns toward me. I can't read his expression, and my chest tightens.
"When we were little, I used to take off a lot. You would always find me. It became like a challenge. In the beginning, I would leave small clues for you to follow. Eventually, I stopped. No matter how far I ran or where I hid, you would come for me. It was like we were connected somehow."
I draw in a deep breath, but my chest only constricts further. "I don’t remember that." A lone tear runs down my cheek, and I close my eyes.
