Page 68 of A Game of Deception

I eased onto the shoulder, hazard lights flashing, and pulled up Cory’s name. My chest felt tight as I hit call. Two rings, and then his voice came through

“Xander. Is everything alright?” No surprise, no preamble. Just immediate concern. That was Cory.

“Not really,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “I’m in some trouble, Cory. I need a favor. A big one.”

“Whatever it is, you’ve got it,” he replied instantly. “Where are you? What do you need?”

The immediate, unquestioning support almost broke me. I explained everything—Morrison, his slip about “original notes,” our belief that they contained the truth.

“So you need someone to access police records in Palo Alto without alerting Hank Swanson,” Cory summarized when I finished.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “I know it’s a lot to ask?—”

“It’s done,” Cory said, cutting me off. “You’re my brother, Xander. I’ve been waiting for you to finally let us in on this.”

The simple statement crushed me. All this time...

“Thank you, Cory. This means... everything.”

“You got it,” his voice was quiet but certain. “I’ll start looking into it right away. And Xander? Be careful. I remember Hank Swanson. He won’t go down easy.”

My gaze flicked to Tara. She didn’t know the details of the call, but she caught enough of Cory’s warning in my expression to tense, her knuckles whitening against her knees.

“We’ll watch our backs.”

“Good. I’ll call soon.” And with that, he hung up.

I lowered the phone, relief and a renewed sense of hope.

Tara angled toward me. “So? How did it go?”

“He’s in,” I said, sliding the phone back into the console. “Cory’s got us covered.”

I merged back onto the highway, and just as a fragile calm began to settle in the car, Tara’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, and her entire body went rigid.

“What is it?” I asked, catching the color drain from her face.

Her jaw tightened. “It’s from my father.” Her voice was clipped as she read aloud: “Family dinner at the house tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

It wasn’t a request; it was a summons. A clear power play.

“I can go with you,” I offered, keeping my eyes on the road.

Tara swiped the screen, closing the text messages, her expression hardening with a new, steely resolve. She shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice firm. “That’s what he’d expect. He’s testing me.” She met my gaze, a strategist already planning her next move. “We can’t show our hand yet. I’ll handle him.”

She was right. This was a game of chess, and we couldn’t afford a single misstep.

18

TARA

The emeraldgreen dress tempted me from its hanger. That dress was reserved for Xander. I shoved it deeper into my closet, my fingers lingering on the silky fabric. I wished I could wear it but this wasn’t a night for Xander’s favorite color.

Tonight was about armor, not seduction.

I pulled out a sleek navy shift dress instead. The kind of outfit that says, “I’m here because obligation demands it, not because I want to be.” Perfect for a dinner with my father that we both knew was really an interrogation.

My phone buzzed on the dresser. A text from Xander.