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She lifts the post note off the back of the chair.
I squeeze my lips in between my teeth. “What if that was connected to a bomb or something?” I snap out.
“Explain how that would be possible.” She lifts the paper, looking at me with a delirious expression.
My eyes pinch as I pluck the paper from her fingers. Multiple footsteps and the voice from Ronan come from behind us.
“Anything is possible,” I say, bringing the paper to my view.
Then her head cocks, realizing something. “And did you call me Wicked?”
I flip over the letter. “Yeah. You call me Cinderella.” I shrug.
She nods, curling her lip down. “Well, shit, I actually like it.”
By then, Ronan and Boone are up to us. “What’s that?” Ronan comes near me, his tall frame hovering next to me. I’m already feeling the warmth in this big ass coat, and now the presence of Ronan so close only makes it hotter.
Ignoring the proximity of him, I finally get a good look at the paper. My brows only furrow deeper, causing an unsettling twist in my stomach.
You’re Invited
347 Walnut Lane, Croydon, London
Casino Twinkling Night Masquerade Ball
December 10 @ 7pm
-Your Best Guy Vic
“This has to be a joke.” I flip the paper to the side, turning to face Ronan fully. Wicked takes the paper from my hand, studying it closer. Boone tilts his head slightly, examining it.
“Best guy?” Mal asks, more with offense.
“Really? Is that all you got from it?” I squint my eyes, pinching my face in annoyance.
Ronan crosses his arm over his chest and the other raised to his chin as he rubs it. His eyes steady on the ground with deep thought.
“It’s a trap,” Boone speaks, his voice nearly startling me. It’s a gift to hear the man talk because he never does.
Ronan takes the letter, examining it again. “Unless it’s his way of luring me out. This means he doesn’t know who we are.” He points at the paper. “We can use this to our advantage.”
I shake my head, placing my hand in the pockets of the coat to keep my hands from turning into popsicles. I still love the winter, even if it makes me feel like ice. “How?”
He shakes the note. “He has no clue how we look; we can go to this party and invade them from the inside out.”
“You think he won’t notice the man he tortured?” I point out. The thought of walking right into the hands of a clown stirs me the wrong way.
“It is a masquerade ball,” Wicked adds, plucking the thin paper from Ronan and wiggling it.
“Yes, exactly,” Ronan dulls, snatching it back. “Hewon’tnotice.”
“And if he does.” I glide it from Ronan’s fingers, holding it between my pointer and middle finger.
Ronan smoothly grazes his fingers over his beard, thinking it over. “Let’s get to the compound and think it over. This air is freezing my brain.”
By the timewe head back to the compound, it’s past midnight. My eyes are drowsy from keeping them open the whole two-hour drive. I refuse to let Ronan, of all people, watch me sleep. He already stirs me in a direction I never thought I would be, but to let him see me asleep? I don’t even know how I look in that state. Maybe I sleep with my mouth spread open, or maybe I snore and don’t even know it.
We all sit at a round table that’s in the tech area. The air is warm and cozy now, making my body relaxed and even more tired.