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“Taken care of.”
I don’t like his tone. I don’t like anything about the situation at all. It’s eleven at night, Willow was dragged out of the trailer—out of her bed, most likely—and I can’t even see her.
Fists tight, I attempt to control my anger. Willow might be the one with our grandmother’s red hair, but I inherited the temper. I know losing it isn’t going to help me with these assholes. They’d love a reason to lock me up right next to my mother. The west side kids have always been trash in the eyes of the law enforcers.
“After you,” the policeman says, opening the door to a gray, sterile office that looks like an interrogation room from shitty TV show.
“I’m not going anywhere until I know where my sister is.”
“On her way to catch her flight to New York.”
I recognize that voice. It’s not the kind of voice you can forget. It’s low and as smooth as chocolate.I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place it at first.
Frowning, I step toward the direction of the voice, into the room. Then I stop dead.I can’t quite understand what I’m seeing: six foot one of tanned, lean muscles, silky golden-brown waves, molten amber eyes, and a pouty mouth.
Camden Hunt, prince of Thorn Falls.
In the past, I wouldn’t ever have been allowed within ten yards of His Majesty, but since Erica landed one of his best friends, I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him upclose a couple of times. He even danced with me once at the wedding. I told him I couldn’t waltz. He asked if I could shut the hell up and follow.I should have wanted to kick him for that, but to my confusion, I liked it. His domineering assurance and wicked grin can really make a girl stupid.
What the hell is he doing here? It makes no sense.
More importantly… “What did you just say?”
He can’t have claimed my sister’s flying to New York, because that’s just ridiculous. She’s never taken a plane anywhere.
“And here I thought you were supposed to be smart.” He pushes up from the wall against which he’d been leaning and takes one step toward me. “I said Willow’s going to the airport. By the time she lands, I’ll text her social worker the address where she’s to be delivered. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford of Fifth Avenue feel quite lonely now that their wonderful two point three children have flown the nest. They’ll spoil her rotten. Or I could send her to the Martins. Trust me when I tell you that they make your parents look like angels.”
My eyes widen. He can’t mean it, right? “Are you threatening my sister?”
“Of course not. I’m threatening you.” Camden tilts his head invitingly. “Sit.”
ChapterFour
Morgan Brown is adorable, with that pretty, gaping mouth and her wide, thunderstruck eyes. I have to stop myself from laughing. Poor little lamb.Her face is so open, easily read. I learned to keep my feelings to myself by the time I could spell my name, lest they be used against me, and here she is, plainly displaying her thoughts with every shift in her features.
Right now, her face screams "what the fuck," though she's too stunned to say the words out loud. Ishouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am.If there is a hell, I'm definitely on my way straight to its deepest circles. Having to fuck with the girl to protect some of my peers is one thing; enjoying it as much as I am is another.
I slide my phone across the metallic table separating us, screen facing her. Her eyes narrow and her jaw tightens when she sees the message on display: her own email to Aryan.
Her brows knit in a little frown. "I didn't send that to you." She makes it sound like a question. It never occurred to her that anyone other than Aryan might see it.
Sweet summer child.
Aryan has a gift for getting himself in trouble. He learned to let his daddy clean up his messes a long time ago. If she'd come to me for answers, she would have dealt with a different beast.
The thought comes of its own volition and I dismiss it immediately. Of course she wouldn't have even thought ofme. We've barely interacted. A few words, one forgettable dance. There's no logical reason why I should have crossed her mind at any point. Still, it would have made her life—and mine—much easier.I would have made her pay for the threat, of course, but I wouldn't have dragged the matter to a board of powerful men willing to snap her neck to guarantee her silence.
She chose Aryan because he's the one who dated Lola. During their four or five weeks together, he took her everywhere around town, picking her up from her trailer park in his fancy, recognizable ride, shortsighted as he is. Then she disappeared. Following that, Lola sent letters to her friends and family. Morgan must have received one. She may have thought it was a forgery, or written under duress.
If only she knew.
"Sit."
Morgan's eyes flare with unrestrained anger. I make a mental note. She doesn't like to do as she's told.
"I don't think so. Answer my question. Why do you have that email?" Before I can say a word, she changes tack. "Actually, I don't care. Why is Willow going to New York? Even if she needed to be placed into foster care, it should be here, in California."
Adorable. The trailer princess has a backbone, and some pride, though she's unbearably ingenuous.
