My mouth falls open. “What?”
“David’s dead,” Quinn states. “He was shot, and they think Travis did it.”
What. The. Hell.
Last night we were having a party, Quinn’s situation put on hold so we could celebrate Evie’s birthday. Less than a day later, David is dead, Quinn is in the hospital, and Travis is behind bars. Who’s running this damn show? The Thunderbirds? My brothers have clearly fucked up somewhere along the line for this to happen.
“Well, did he do it?” I ask, because I can’t blame Travis if he did. The only way to stop a man like David is to put him in the ground. It’s a harsh way of thinking, but that’s the cold reality.
“No!”
Quinn explains that she’s yet to give her statement. Travis is stuck behind bars until they’re given the full background of the situation. It leads us to the question of the hour—who shot David?
First we need to arrange for my brother’s release. That means springing Quinn from the hospital and taking her to where he’s being held. After handling the paperwork, we’re outside within the hour. Quinn and I wait by the entrance while Evie gets the car and brings it around.
“Mac,” Quinn croaks and clears her throat. “I’ve just realised I left my phone on the counter where we signed the release papers. Would you mind ducking in to get it for me?”
I roll my eyes at her forgetfulness. After commanding her to stay put, I go inside to look for it, but it’s nowhere to be found.
When I walk back outside, Quinn is nowhere to be found either. Evie is standing alone by the car waiting for us. “Where’s Quinn?”
“I don’t know,” she replies. “I thought she was with you?”
“Did you see her at all?”
Evie shakes her head. “No?”
My gut twists. Something isn’t right. I jog away from the entrance and scan the parking lot that stretches out in front of us. “Quinn?” I yell, looking left and right. Oh my god, she’s vanished right beneath our noses. My brothers will have my head on a platter. My lips pinch tight as I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. I start with Travis. It’s possible Quinn’s information about his incarceration is faulty, and if she’s gone, he should be the first to know.
Travis answers. “Yeah?”
Relief hits me. “Trav, thank god. Quinn said you’d been arrested.”
His chuckle is low and amused. “Christ, she isn’t worried is she? It’s all been sorted out. I’m on my way to the hospital now. Are you there?”
My brother’s response has fear snaking up my spine. If Quinn isn’t with him, and David is bound for the morgue, then something very, very bad is at play. “I am, but there’s a problem. A really big, horrible problem.”
“What?” he barks.
My eyes do another scan of the hospital entrance and front parking lot. It gives me nothing. “Quinn’s gone.”
There’s a pause then, “What the fuck, Mac?”
“Don’t shout at me!” I shout as I jog back to Evie. I left her alone for one minute, but apparently that minute was enough for all holy hell to break loose. “I already know I fucked up. Oh god.”
Travis orders us home to the duplex and hangs up on me. Frustration rattles my bones as we park in the driveway. They expect me to keep them in the loop when shit goes down yet I’m always kept out of it. Are we supposed to just sit on our hands and wait now? Balls to that.
It grates me to ring Jared, but I do. He doesn’t answer. I try Mitch. He doesn’t answer either. Evie sinks to the edge of the couch, biting her nails as I pace back and forth along the living room rug. “You’ll wear a hole in it,” she says.
I couldn’t care less. I’m too busy working out our next plan of attack. I pause and look at her. “Those guys who want the money have to be the ones who have Quinn, but who the fuck are they?”
She gives me a blank look.
“Did Quinn mention anything to you?”
Evie shakes her head.
“Okay.” I put my hands on my hips, my brain working overtime. “Well, David owed shitloads and considering the way they’re trying to collect their money, they can’t be good guys, right?”
“I guess.”
I begin to pace again. “So the loaned money can only come from some kind of criminal activity, like a crime group. Probably one that traffics drugs. I mean, that’s where the big money is, isn’t it?”
Evie shrugs like she doesn’t have a clue.
“Great sounding board you are,” I snap, pausing to face her.
“Don’t get pissy, Macface,” she snaps back. “I’m just as upset as you about this situation, but what are we supposed to do?”
“I don’t know!” I throw my hands up in the air. “But I do know that sitting around doing nothing isn’t going to help anyone.”
Evie huffs.
I crack my knuckles in annoyance. “If I had access to resources, I’d have this situation dealt with before you could blink.”
“What kind of resources? You mean like Google?”
An idea hits. “Yes!” I point a finger at her. “Now you’re starting to think like a badass consultant.”
“I am?”
“Yes. Now go get me a packet of salt and vinegar chips from the pantry. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
Her mouth falls open. “How can you be hungry at a time like this? Especially considering we just had burgers not long ago.”
“Don’t give me smack talk, Sandwich,” I bark as I head for the study at the back of the house. After taking a seat at my desk, I roll my chair toward my laptop and flip open the lid. It would be handy if Google gave me a detailed list of organised crime groups in Sydney that run drug trafficking rings, along with their address and contact information, but that’s not going to happen.
It’s entirely possible that my brother’s firm has a list though. All I need to do is hack into their system.
Evie wanders in with my packet of chips. The bag is open and she’s stuffing them in her mouth.
“I thought you weren’t hungry after burgers.”
She shrugs. “I could still eat.”
I snatch the packet. Reaching in, I pull out a chip and crunch, chewing slowly, as I stare at the blank screen of my laptop.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to work out how to hack Jamieson and Valentine Consulting’s computer system.”
She snatches the chip packet back. “Why don’t you just ring Tim?”
Tim is their receptionist slash assistant. He’s short with a slim stature, dark hair, and rich brown eyes fringed by thick, sooty lashes. He’s also the office gossip. He knows everything that happens in that office before it even happens. I’ve made it my business to become his friend accordingly, but it’s an antagonistically mutual relationship.
I pick up the phone and dial. Tim answers on the third ring and rattles off his long greeting.
“It’s me,” I reply.
“Who’s me?”
“Fuck off, Tim. Shit’s going down and I need information.”
“I’m sorry,” he sing-songs. “I think you have the wrong number.”
“Tim,” I growl, knowing he’s swinging around in his fancy office chair at this very moment, playing with the styling of his hair to make sure each strand sits just so. It’s how Tim conducts all his phone chats.
He sighs a long lilting sigh that still manages to sound peeved. “Mac, if I give you any information, I’ll get fired.”
“Come on, Tim. Don’t be a little bitch.”
“Screw you, Mac,” he hisses into the phone.
The line goes dead.
I re-dial.
Tim answers, once again rattling off his long greeting.
“Quinn’s life is hanging in the balance,” I bark into the phone. “What if something horrible happens because you didn’t pass on the information we needed? What then, Tim? Huh?”
His tone is incredulous. “You think you’re the one that’s going to s
ave the day?”
“Well, I can’t sit around twiddling my goddamn fingers.”
Tim huffs. “Let me see what I can find out.”
He hangs up before I can ask for the list of Sydney crime syndicates.
“Mac?”
Our heads swivel to the door. Jake is standing there shirtless, wearing worn, faded jeans. “Did you just say something about Quinn’s life hanging in the balance? What’s going on?”
Evie’s expression is grim when she answers for me. “Quinn’s been kidnapped.”
“What the hell?” he bursts out angrily. “When?”
She fills him in, starting from the beginning and ending with the now. Her loose lips give him every detail of my involvement.
Jake turns an accusatory glare my way, and I lift my chin, defiant in the face of his anger. “Evie, sweetheart,” he utters softly, never taking his eyes from mine, “I think I hear your phone ringing out in the kitchen.”
She cocks an ear. “No. I don’t think it’s—”
“It must have just stopped.”
“I’ll go check. It might be Jared,” Evie says, hope colouring her words despite the release of a tired sigh. She pushes up off the chair from the other desk in our study. Quinn’s desk. My heart thuds with fear, each beat more powerful with every minute that ticks by without word. I’ve been able to lock it down until now, focused solely on what I can do to help, which keeps me determined and calm, but Jake is here now and that’s all it takes for my control to flounder.
He speaks, his voice gritty like sandpaper. “Every time.”
“Every time?”
He walks over to my desk and leans his backside against the edge. “Every time something like this happens, you just shut me out. I know we’re trying to find our way back to the way we used to be, but it’s not working. We’re not the same people we used to be. You used to be tough, Mac, but you were also sweet. But I don’t know where the sweetness went. You’re harder now. More driven, maybe, and more reckless. Your constant need to get caught up in any dangerous situation that comes your way is relentless. I know your brothers are out there doing what they can for Quinn, but so are the authorities. Let them do their job, Princess,” he pleads softly. “Please?”
I stare hard into Jake’s eyes, my chest burning with anger. Does he not know me at all? “I can’t sit here and do nothing,” I snap. “I’m a Valentine. It’s not in my nature.”
My phone rings. A quick glance shows Tim’s name on the screen.
Jake gives me a look when I go to answer.
“I have to get this.”
He pushes away from the desk. His fists curl and the veins in his arms bulge as he steps away. A few deep breaths later, he turns. “Forget it,” he says over the sound of my ringing phone. “This is not the time for that particular conversation anyway.”
My heart feels heavy. For the first time I begin to question myself and the future I’ve mapped out in my head. Is it going to cost me in the long run? Are marriage and kids really so bad? Sometimes I let myself picture our tiny baby lying naked in Jake’s big, tattooed arms, just to see how it makes me feel. If I’m honest with myself, the image makes me melt faster than butter on toast. So why do I deny myself? Why do I have this need to prove myself all the damn time?
The questions flit through my mind in the span of seconds, and in half that time I push them away without answers. We’re all feeling vulnerable right now, worried sick for Quinn’s safety. Now is not the time to question my life choices.
So instead of going after Jake, I choose the easier option. I pick up my phone and answer Tim’s call.
MAC
The scent of flowers is strong as I drag my feet down the aisle, bouquet in hand. My dress is pale pink with a strapless bodice, but the flowing skirt is made with a shit tonne of layers and ruffles. The weight is the equivalent of an elephant. I’m literally wearing an elephant. At least, that’s how it feels.
I lift my chin and smile at all in attendance. Sweat breaks across my brow with each determined step. Did I mention the dress is also hot? The fires of Hell rage beneath these skirts. I have to give Evie credit for the selection. The contraption is incredibly beautiful, but I can’t wait to get it off. Preferably with scissors.
Gritting my teeth, I shift my gaze to Jared. He’s faring no better. His face is green, and he looks ready to puke. I’m not sure why. Nerves? Cold feet? Either way, if I’m suffering, it’s good to know he is too. Beside him stands Travis and Mitch, both looking more handsome than they have a right to and far more relaxed than their younger sibling.
My mother dashes away a tear as I sweep past her. She’d been with us just moments earlier, rushing to her seat last minute. These past eight months have kept her caught up in wedding preparations. There’s nothing she won’t do and no lengths she won’t go to ensure her baby boy receives the wedding of a lifetime.
Sweeping off to the left, my eyes shift to Quinn. She’s glowing today. It’s definitely a post-sex glow. She thought sharing the details while we were having our makeup applied this morning would be entertaining. She actually thought that. Evie couldn’t be left out, of course, and included comments about Jared in comparison. It was all I could do to keep my breakfast down. Hearing about my brothers’ sexual shenanigans is up there with other such fun activities like setting my goddamn pubes on fire.
I have to remind myself that we’re lucky she’s here at all. Tim’s phone call confirmed what I’d already determined. Quinn had been taken by the Zampetti crime group, a human trafficking operation so slick no one can get near them. These were the people David owed money to, but they hadn’t kidnapped Quinn for the reason we’d all assumed.
The Zampettis had a mole in their midst. A federal agent with the Australian Police. And they knew it. What they’d so brilliantly deduced before any of us could was that the undercover agent had a daughter and her name was Quinn. This was big news, even to Quinn, who’d never known her father.
His name is Seth McKinnon, and it turns out he knows a lot. So much, in fact, that the Zampettis’ plan was to use Quinn to extract all of it.
Tim barely paused for breath during the entire recount. He ended the conversation by informing me that when the Zampettis transferred her and Seth from the house they were stashed in, Quinn had managed to run the car off the road and slam it into a tree, thus making her own escape.
Quinn hadn’t needed my help. She hadn’t needed anyone’s help. She’d saved herself. Travis could’ve done with some help, though. Not trusting that Seth was who he said he was—an undercover agent—my brother had punched him in the face. It wasn’t until after Seth lay unconscious on the ground that Travis found out the family connection. My brother had literally punched his girlfriend’s father. In. The. Face.
If it’s possible to die from laughing too hard, I wouldn’t be standing here today, yet here I am with my face turned toward the end of the aisle as we wait for the maid of honour to make an appearance.
Travis drank a lot that night. I had too, because in the aftermath of that day, Jake left. Whatever particular conversation he wanted to have hadn’t happened. I cancelled the band’s commitments for two weeks because we needed a break, and he’d subsequently packed a bag and disappeared. Where he went, I don’t know. Jake never answered my calls or returned my messages. He simply reappeared two weeks later and that was that.
His actions have made it clear he’s done. So I let it go. I let us go. And it hurts. But I have no choice. Jake wants too much. For him it’s all or nothing. I can’t give him my all right now, so it has to be nothing.
My eyes shift to where he sits with the band, dressed in a black suit, his black tie secured in an impeccable Windsor knot. They’re positioned in the front row, representing the bride’s side of the family. His is the only head that isn’t turned toward the church entrance. He’s watching me instead. His eyes lower, lingering on my tits, before rising again.
The heat level beneath my skirts soar higher. We’ve
been snapping at each other for months, and my nerves are frayed. I don’t know how to be nothing around Jake. Clearly, he doesn’t know how to be nothing around me either.
Thankfully, there’s a commotion at the entrance. The maid of honour has arrived. Wearing a suit similar to my brothers, except with a pink tie to match the colour of the bridesmaid dresses, Henry makes his way up the aisle. Evie has forced him to carry a bouquet. There had been a huge fight over that, but to Henry’s credit, he appears unfazed as he walks toward us, managing to move a lot quicker than we’d done in our ridiculous dresses. Still, he’s moving too quickly. His pace is out of step to the music.
“It’s hot in here,” he mutters when he reaches his place by my side.
“Hot?” I snort. “Be thankful Evie didn’t put you in this dress. Being strapped to the roof of a burning building would be cooler than this.”
Henry rolls his eyes at my complaint. “At least you don’t have to wear a tie. Feels like I’m slowly being choked to death.”
“I’d rather choke to death than burn alive,” I retort.
“I’d rather—”
“Shush,” I hiss. Evie has made her appearance, her arm tucked inside Coby’s. Their father is an absent one. Never having liked the responsibility of children, he left when Evie was young. She has us now so there’s no looking back.
My hands rest on Elijah’s shoulders. His rest lightly on my hips. We’re at the wedding reception and moving about the dance floor to Ella Henderson singing “Yours.” He’s talking to me, but I’m not paying attention to a single word he says. My gaze is busy searching the room for Jake. I don’t have to look too hard. He’s making his way between twirling couples, shoulders tense as he heads straight for us.
Elijah pauses when he reaches us, forcing me to stop alongside him.
“May I cut in?” he asks Elijah, his eyes on me.
My dance partner takes a gracious step back and my hands fall from his shoulders. “She’s all yours, Romero,” he says with a light clap on Jake’s back before striding away.