Page 199 of Broken Bonds

“Yeah. I’ve seen them. And no, not letting you read them. You don’t need to. You can’t log in, anyway, because I asked them to change your password. It needs to look like you’re logging in from the places where the posts appear to originate.”

I take his phone, swipe down to refresh it, and there are an additional 32 followers I didn’t have only a moment ago.

Then I browse the new pictures, all styled with deliberately sexy poses, like one arm across my chest with my other elbow propped on that hand and my free hand holding my chin while wearing a sexy smirk, the tip of the Eiffel Tower just barely visible in the background; a mirror selfie where my face is visible from the nose up, showing off a “new haircut” while my aviator shades and the mirror clearly reflect signs in Italian; one taken on a beach, from the point of view of holding the camera pointed down my chest and showing my bare abs, my mustard yellow swim trunks, and in the background an azure sea kissing white sand that can’t be anywhere on this side of the Atlantic.

That caption reads: The thirst trap you keep begging me for, ladies. Enjoy! Peace, baby loves. Followed by several suggestive emojis.

“I don’t even have those abs anymore!” I ridiculously protest. “And I damn sure wouldn’t have worn those color trunks!”

Todd snorts. “Seriously? That’s your critique?”

“I… I…” I stare at him, at his sexy smirk. “Okay, so what’s the point of this?”

“I don’t know the deets,” he admits. “OPSEC. They’re obviously trying to rile your father.”

“And Mom,” I quietly say.

He nods. “And your mom.” He takes a deep breath. “Tomorrow night, late, we’re heading out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jax said for us to be ready to leave at 11:00 pm.”

“How long? Do I need to pack?”

“Maybe a small backpack with a clean change of clothes for both of us. Toothbrushes. But it shouldn’t be long.”

Hope tentatively peeks out from where I’ve kept it carefully tucked away. “Mom?”

“I don’t know, baby. But you cannot talk about it to anyone—not even Shawn, definitely not to my mom. No one.”

Now that it seems I might be close to getting Mom back, I hope Alizée’s track record is as good as she thinks it is.

Because that look on her face at the press conference will likely haunt my nightmares.

Chapter Seventy-Six

Mal

On pins and needles

My nausea isn’t from morning sickness.

It’s from riding in the backseat of an SUV in the middle of the night with Todd next to me and two huge and heavily armed guys up front who make Todd look small. Following us are two more SUVs, also filled with large men who could squash Todd with a flick of their fingers.

Oh, and my nausea’s also from my fear we won’t be able to get mom, or that she’ll have to go somewhere else because we can’t trust her not to rat us out.

Jax showed up with the three SUVs. I’m given few details but offered the choice to stay behind.

“Not a chance,” I tell Jax.

He nods. “Good, because the plan has a better chance of success with you.”

And that’s the only hint I’m given.

I’m exhausted because I didn’t sleep much last night, and I couldn’t nap today, even after Todd used the milker on me—it fits nicely in our closet for easy storage—and made me come until I safeworded.

I lean over with my head in Todd’s lap despite how uncomfortable that is with the seatbelt on. His hand settles in my hair, gently scritching the way I love.