Broken Trust: A Dark High School Romance(45)

Of all people, it was Catherine herself that came to my rescue.

“Graeme, dear, I told you I’d introduce you to Riley myself,” she cooed, sliding her slim arm around her brother’s waist to give him a hug.

Graeme gave me another calculating look before turning that fake smile on his sister—my birth mother. “Ah, but I spotted her over here and I just couldn’t help myself.” He leaned down and kissed Catherine on the cheek in a way that gave me the creeps. It was too intimate for a brotherly kiss, and I wrinkled my nose as I looked away.

“I’m sure you couldn’t,” Catherine muttered with a touch of sarcasm. “Come, Senator Green was just telling me all about a fascinating new bill that is about to be presented to Congress.”

She made to lead Graeme away, but he paused and turned back to the five of us.

“Lovely to meet you, niece,” he told me with that crocodile smile. “I look forward to seeing the five of you at the vote. It’s about time some new voices were heard.”

With that confusing gem, he let Catherine lead him away, and she shot us a pointed look over her shoulder. This was our opportunity. She—and the other Delta leaders—would be keeping both Senator Green and Graeme Huntley busy, so we could steal that sex tape.

“Show time,” Evan whispered, and I bit my tongue on the questions Graeme had just raised. We had a task to perform, and I for one had no interest in seeing the consequences if we failed.





18





It pretty quickly became clear why I’d been brought along on this mission, despite my severe lack of experience or training compared to the guys. As we made our way through the corridors of City Hall, the guys stopped to “show me a painting” every time we ran into another guest, or security. Apparently it was public knowledge that Catherine Deboise’s long lost daughter had never attended a function like this before so I was their smoke screen for being outside of the main party area.

Playing tourist, so to speak.

Evan and Jasper peeled off from us at different points, lurking as the surveillance detail while Beck, Dylan and I continued on to the senator’s office.

“Uh, isn’t his office going to be locked?” I pointed out as the three of us hurried down a dark corridor. This area was strictly off limits to the party—we’d even had to step over a rope with a “no access” sign—so all the lights were turned off.

Beck shot me a half smile, and Dylan just pressed a finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet as he crouched in front of Senator Green’s office door and pulled a folded leather pouch from his jacket pocket.

“Get out,” I whispered. “You know how to pick locks? What is this, fucking Ocean’s Eleven?”

Both boys just smirked at me, and I rolled my eyes as Dylan turned the door handle and held the door open for Beck and me to enter. Damn boys and their egos. They were probably already mentally deciding who was Clooney and who was Pitt.

“Okay, uh, anyone else seeing a problem here?” I hissed, peering around the dark room. “Your dads said the recordings were in a hidden room behind the bookshelf, right?”

“Ah,” Beck grunted, seeing what I was talking about. “Yes. So very specific, as usual.”

The office was huge, and three of the four walls were floor to ceiling bookcases. We could rule out the ones either side of the door, because it was just hallway behind those. But how in the hell would we find this fucking hidden room behind what must be thousands of books?

“Better move quick,” Dylan suggested so helpfully. “These people have a flair for the dramatic, so it’ll be a pull book entry. Start pulling books.” He headed over to the shelves on the left and started tilting books out of the shelf and back again.

“Seriously?” I hissed to Beck, and he just shrugged.

“Got a better idea?” he asked. It was probably rhetorical, but I actually did have a better idea. Typical fucking males, not using their brains to work out the problem.

Looking around the dark room, I tried to work out where Senator Green would most likely do his fucking. Couch or desk? Desk was pretty clichéd and a quick glance over his meticulously neat papers and pens, I discarded that idea. He didn’t seem like the type who would mess up his desk by mauling a chick all over it, so it had to be the couch.

I crossed the room to the couch in question and sat down on it—trying really hard not to think about whether he cleaned it often or not.

“Butterfly,” Beck hissed. “What are you doing? We need all hands on deck here.”

I rolled my eyes—not that he could see—and ignored him as I looked around the office. From where I sat, what would be the best camera angle? Well, for starters, it certainly wouldn’t be on the side the couch was nearest.

“It’s that side,” I whispered to Dylan, who was working his way through the books beside the couch. He raised his brows at me, but quickly caught on and moved to Beck’s side of the room.

I got up and went to join them, but didn’t bother pulling books like they were. Instead, I was hunting for any sign of a camera.

“I can’t see shit,” I muttered as I ran my fingers over the spines of books, searching for something out of place. “Give me your phone.” I held my hand out to Beck, and he handed over his iPhone. I ignored the fact that it was still warm from his pocket, and used the screen light to help see the bookshelves.