Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(28)

And then, I laugh.

It’s an incredulous sound, desperate as it rips out of me, but a laugh nonetheless. Callie’s hand comes up to her mouth, eyes watering as she swings her gaze from me, and Liam drags a hand down over his face.

My father is the only one who doesn’t move. I’m not sure if he’s even breathing.

Frankly, I’m not sure I am either.

“Please, tell me what’s funny about this.” My father crosses his arms, cocking an eyebrow while jutting a hip out.

It’s a power move I’ve seen him use to put the fear of God into clients but now all it does is make me angrier.

“Obviously, I didn’t do it.” When I swallow, it’s like a handful of hot coals sliding down my throat. “She’s lying.”

Why, I have no fucking idea, but the notion incinerates any good feelings I had about our time together, or our connection, replacing them with fiery resentment.

Maybe she wasn’t as honest as you thought.

Nausea curdles in my gut like spoiled milk, and I hunch over, resisting the urge to vomit.

“Well, the truth hardly matters in cases like this, as we all know. Our next steps are going to be about damage control and finding out a way to spin the claims as the bumbling narratives of a deranged fan until the investigation finishes. Luckily, this is the only photographic evidence anyone has come forth with yet, placing you two together.”

Shaking my head, I try to clear the fog clouding around my brain. “Why don’t we just find her and make her confess? You’ve done it before.”

Jaw set, my father exhales, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Because, son, she forged her charity papers. The name she used, the address—all of it’s fake, and no one can seem to track her down.”

“What are you saying?” Callie asks, fingers trembling.

She doesn’t look at me, and the lack of acknowledgment stings. Like she’s already writing me off in her mind, convinced I’m capable of something so disgusting.

“I’m saying, this girl may as well be a ghost.”





13





Everyone’s staring when our plane touches down in King’s Trace, and even though I’ve grown accustomed to a certain level of scrutiny within this seedy small town, there’s something extra about the way it unfolds today.

Heads turn, deliberate in their attempts to get a glimpse of me. Eyes narrow, tracking me as I grab my suitcase from baggage claim, and the whispers follow down the corridor to where my brother stands, looking more grumpy than usual.

Arms crossed over his chest, Boyd looks as though he’s been sent to collect a debt with his crisp navy suit and the hard set of his jaw. There’s a ferocity in his gaze that I haven’t seen since before I moved in with him, and that, coupled with the spectators around us, has my hair standing up on end.

The cartoonish redhead beside my brother, however, alleviates some of that stress. A bright smile stretches across Fiona’s face, and she bounces on her heels as I near them, clasping her hands together.

Immediately, she pulls me in for a hug, wrapping her arms around my neck. She smells like bubblegum and flowers, and I soak in it for a moment, letting her warmth partially erase the memory of the last twenty-four hours.

Mellie and Aurora were packed and checked out by the time I woke up this morning, and I couldn’t find them in the crowd among our other classmates or chaperones. I’d ended up catching the shuttle back with one of the school administrators, having to listen to her drone on about how amazing the free night had been for her and a few other staff members.

I’m not sure what it says about me that I’m envious of middle-aged poker at a luxury burlesque show, especially considering who I’d spent most of my night with.

But I’ve been trying not to think about that.

“You’re back!” Pulling away, Fiona grips my biceps and gives me a little shake.

“Uh, yeah.” I laugh. “Surprisingly, I managed not to get beheaded in a dirty subway.” My eyes find Boyd’s. “Looks like someone owes me an apology.”

Fiona makes a face, scanning me from head to toe. “I’m just glad to see you’re mostly okay.”

“Mostly?” My eyebrows draw in. “What does that—”

“We need to leave.” Boyd’s voice interrupts, completely devoid of emotion.

I glance at him, rolling my eyes. “You make it sound like there are people after us.”

He doesn’t respond. Just stares, not blinking for a full sixty seconds. Shifting, I steal a look at Fiona, who’s twisting a piece of pink bubblegum around one of her manicured fingers.

“What’s going on?”

“Haven’t you seen—”

“Fiona.” Boyd’s using his dad voice, and I’m not even sure if he’s aware of it. “Not here.”

She worries her bottom lip, big brown eyes shining up at him. It looks like she wants to protest, push him on his insistence, but she seems to decide against it.

Looping her arm through mine, she tugs me along ahead of him, leaving my suitcase for Boyd to roll.

As we walk, I avoid looking at any other patrons, focusing instead on the tile directly in front of my path. “Did Boyd get broodier since yesterday, somehow?”