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His sister flushes. “No. But… well, shit.” She stares at me a beat, then turns and rushes down a hall. She comes back a moment holding a very familiar book in her hand.
My heart skips.
“I’m reading your book,” she says sheepishly. “It’s fucking addictive.”
“Holy shit.” Camden laughs.
“Shut up, Cam,” Grace snaps. Back to me, her smile is more tentative. “Could you sign this?”
“Of course!” It’s surreal, but I take the well-loved paperback from her and wait while she finds a pen. I flip through the pages,and it takes another moment to register that I actually haven’t held a copy of my book in a while.
I bought myself copies when it first came out, gave them away, and then… moved.
I’ve been distracted, I guess. Go figure.
“So, the reason for lying low—is it dangerous?” She hands me a pen.
I scrawl my name on the title page, finishing with a little heart, and hand it back to her. Camden watches with a bemused smile, although he doesn’t answer her question. And I can’t, because I have no idea what the hell is happening.
“Well?” She faces her brother.
“I think someone was coming to take Aurora,” he says. “Or at the very least, hurt her and frame it on Joel.”
“Haverhill?” She squints. “Does he live in this building?”
“Yes.” He waves her words away. “Don’t go looking for trouble, Gracie. He nearly got Aurora killed.”
“And you think Luke would have someone come for methere?” I question.
“Your husband upped the security at your building. It was to make it more difficult for someone to get up to your floor.”
“How do you know that?”
He rolls his eyes. “Knox mentioned it during practice.”
“Of course he did.” I frown. “Okay, so, he didn’t think he could get to me there undetected. But here?”
“Our elevators are shit,” Grace interjects. “And as far as I know, there aren’t any cameras.”
Right. Even I got in with no problem—and Camden must’ve, too.
“You prevented a kidnapping in the middle of the night,” Grace says, patting her brother on the head. “Good boy.”
“Knock it off.” He swats at her. “It was a lucky break.”
“Lucky is right.”
“And a little bit of eavesdropping,” he admits. “I cloned Luke’s phone last week.”
That would’ve been good to know. I scowl at him, which he also ignores. He pulls the phone out—his or the clone, I have no idea—and scrolls through it. Then shoots off a text.
“What did you just do?”
“Texted your phone.”
I pat my pockets, but my phone doesn’t go off. I check it just in case, finding the screen empty of notifications.
“Yourotherphone.”
