They scrolled through pictures of her, usually in black wearing a discreet headset, standing beside world leaders, tech titans, and Hollywood stars.
“An event planner…” Selene sucked in a breath. “Oscar, what did she take from your parents’ house?”
They’d seen when they watched the security feed that Scarlet had had something in her hand when she’d emerged from the farmhouse, but that hadn’t been worth thinking about when their priority had been going on the run to escape the long arm of the Trinity Masters.
“Fuck. We’re idiots,” Oscar grumbled, rising quickly.
Luca stood as well. “I have the car keys to their rental.”
Together, they bolted out of Oscar’s house. It was the middle of the night, and not quite pitch black, thanks to the stars, but dark enough that Selene nearly tripped over a pile of copper wire. Langston had shit everywhere in the yard.
They rounded the corner of the front house and skidded to a stop at the car. Luca hit the button, the doors unlocked, and they each took a different one, yanking them open.
It was Oscar who found the framed pictures of his parents and grandparents in the back seat. “Look at this. She’s going to go after my parents and...well, my grandparents are dead, but…”
“There’s a knife also.” Luca held up the cake cutter. “Uh, a very pretty knife.”
Selene started to curse.
Oscar and Luca shared a glance and then closed the car doors and came to stand beside her. Selene slid her hands into her hair, made fists, and let loose with one long string of four-letter words.
“What?” Oscar demanded. “Why are you freaking out?”
“Impressive cursing,” Luca murmured.
“We tasered them,” she groaned. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Because they were going to—”
“Take us to our surprise wedding.”
“Yes, we know that, that’s the fucking problem, Selene. You and Luca are getting married.”
“Shut the fuck up and listen,” she snapped. “Do you have a wedding Pinterest board? No? Then you need to stop talking.”
“What is Pinterest?” Luca asked.
“Those aren’t just pictures of your parents and grandparents. It’s pictures of them on their wedding day. You display those at the reception. That’s not a knife, it’s a cake cutter.”
Oscar’s eyes had gone wide with shock and maybe a little bit of hope. Then he shook his head. Stubborn idiot. “No, Scarlet isn’t a wedding planner.”
“No, but she could plan a wedding, easy.”
“I didn’t get a letter.”
“Forget the damn letters. Why would the wedding planner need a picture of your parents and grandparents if you weren’t one of the grooms?”
Oscar shook his head. “If she’s going to marry you to Walt…”
“I thought your brother wasn’t a member?” Luca asked.
Selene punched Oscar in the shoulder. “Put that stuff back in the car. Luca, come on, we have some damage control to do.”
“Selene, we should run.” Oscar’s voice was low, urgent.
Selene sighed and touched his face. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. You, Luca, my brothers, Sylvie. That’s it.”
“Then tomorrow morning, you’re going to be on that plane with us. I need you to trust me on this. Our lives depend on it.”
Oscar nodded, leaning his head into her hand, his eyes closed.
After a moment, Luca cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should hurry to end their torture. If we think they are not the enemy...”
“Fuck it. Fine.” Oscar’s tone was resigned.
The minute they opened the door to Walt’s house, they heard it. The song. The floor shook with it, the walls vibrated.
Baby shark...
“How do you apologize for mistakenly torturing someone?” Luca asked.
Selene searched for an answer, but the song...Jesus. That song.
“Some sins can’t be forgiven,” Oscar said ominously.
Chapter Seven
Tate put a glass of orange juice on the small table in front of Scarlet, but she didn’t move. Her attention was glued on her tablet. Apparently half a day away from her devices meant she was now behind schedule with regards to prep for the wedding.
It had been the middle of the night when the music had turned off, and Tate hadn’t actually been asleep. The cessation of noise was a blessed relief and shocked him into full wakefulness. He’d been ready to take action—the priority to get them out of that room no matter the cost.
But hours had passed, with nothing happening. Until, near dawn, Oscar’s voice had crackled over the speaker. Tate and Oscar’s dark-of-night negotiation—Tate yelling the responses through the door—had led directly to their current situation.
Tate picked up the small juice glass and went back to the galley, asking the private jet’s stewardess for a straw. Now equipped, he went back to Scarlet, held the glass in front of her, and stuck the straw in her mouth. She drank without looking away from her tablet.
“No champagne?” she murmured. “I need a drink. A real drink.”
Roman, seated across the aisle from her on a couch rather than in one of the business-class-size airline seats, chuckled.
“Laugh it up,” she muttered. “I’m so far behind that when we get there...” She glanced up and raised her eyebrows.
Tate frowned at the threatening tone in her voice. What the hell did that mean?
Before he could ask, the curtain separating the front and back sections of the cabin was pushed aside. A very relaxed-looking Selene, wearing a robe, emerged.
The opportunity to ask her what she was working on and what she needed was gone. Now that the soon-to-be newlyweds were done with their pampering, they couldn’t speak freely.
“That was amazing,” she hummed.
Luca, wearing a matching robe, came out behind her. He leaned down and kissed Selene’s cheek. She led Luca to the couch, taking a seat beside her cousin.
“Enjoying yourself?” Roman asked mildly.
“I would like to apologize once again,” Luca said.
“I maintain that you should have just told us,” Selene said, but she glanced guiltily at Roman and Scarlet. Tate met her eyes and folded his arms, feet spread. It usually intimidated people, but she merely shrugged at him.
“Told you what?” Roman asked with a brow arched.
Selene had figured it out,
