Page 6 of Positively Pricked

Chapter 3

I was still crawling around in the van's cargo area when something thudded against the back bumper.

I froze, wondering what had just happened. I glanced toward the rear cargo doors, and was just about to fling them open, when something made me hesitate.

It was the sound of male voices. At least one of them was slurring. Drunk? It sure sounded like it. Determined to avoid them, I clamped my mouth shut and waited for them to pass.

But they didn't.

Instead, they stopped somewhere near the back of the van and kept on talking.

"Oh yeah?" the drunk guy slurred. "What? You think you're one of us? Well, lemme tell you something. You're not." He gave a derisive snort. "And you're never gonna be."

The other guy gave something like a laugh. It was a low, dangerous sound that made me shiver in the cold, dark van. "Got that right."

I felt my eyebrows furrow. Whoever the second guy was, he sounded stone-cold sober.

The drunk one demanded, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're smart enough. You'll figure it out."

"I don'twannafigure it out. I want you gone. We all do." His voice rose. "So why don't you get the fuck outta here?"

"I'll tell you why." An edge crept into the sober guy's voice. "Because it'smyhouse."

My breath caught.Oh, crap.Now, I knew who the sober guy was. It was Zane Bennington. Ithadto be. Along with the massive fortune and business empire, he'd inherited several estates, including this one.

"Yourhouse?" the drunk guy said with a nasty laugh. "Yeah, well, not for long."

Zane's voice remained cool. "We'll see about that."

"No!You'llsee."

Holding myself very still, I glanced around the cluttered van. Isodidn't want to eavesdrop, but it's not like I could jump outnow. Not only would it be incredibly awkward, I'd probably get tossed out on my ass – if not by Zane Bennington, then definitely by Ms. Hedgwick.

And damn it. I needed this job, now more than ever, considering that I'd already quit my other one.

I said a silent prayer.Just go away.

But they didn't. Outside the van, they were still going back and forth, first about the estate, and then about the chain of luxury hotels that bore the Bennington name. The way it sounded, the drunk guy's dad was planning some sort of hostile takeover.

Funny, I was a feeling a little hostile myself. Of all the places for them to argue, why here? The estate probably had fifty rooms. Couldn't they just pick one and talk there instead?

Idiots.

Afraid to move, I was still on all fours, and my knees were starting to ache. I felt like a dog ready to bolt.

If only I could.

Already, I'd been out here for way too long, and the delay wasn't even my fault. Normally, the back of the van was neatly organized, with every box and bin in a predictable place. But thanks to that earlier incident, the whole cargo area was a giant mess, with boxes and bins strewn everywhere.

And I justknewthere were meatballs rolling around somewhere.

I could only imagine how messy the van would look under decent lighting, but allIhad was a small keychain penlight, and the thing was practically useless. Even now, its narrow beam illuminated next to nothing.

I hesitated. Maybe that was a good thing. I couldn’t see the mess, andtheycouldn’t seeme. If I were smart, I'd keep it that way. On instinct, I cut the light and tried not to breathe.

Outside, the guys were still arguing. Or – more accurately – the drunk was arguing with Zane, who said only enough to keep the other guy ranting. Why, I had no idea. Already, the guy was repeating himself.