Page 15 of With A Little Luck

Chapter Fourteen

Ridge

K nox and I work well together. He’s decent company when I want conversation, and he knows how to read the room and keep his mouth shut when I’m not feeling chatty.

Trigg is another story completely.

That fucker creeps me out almost on the same level Easton does, which is an accomplishment.

Hell, at least East knows how to fake being human.

I’m pretty sure Trigg must have stuck out like a sore thumb in school. I bet he peered up at his teacher and blinked those cold, dead eyes, and asked something like have you ever touched a dead body? The next thing the school board knew, they had a rash of retiring educators.

It takes all damn day for him to pack up his hotel room. He’s got almost as many computers and screens as Calder has in his tech cave at the office. And he’s so fucking picky about how to pack them that it takes the three of us and multiple trips to get everything settled at my house.

Our final trip is mostly his suitcases and arsenal of weapons. If nothing else, I can appreciate a man who travels with enough firepower to bring down a small country.

Trigg somehow takes over the passenger seat before I can climb into Knox’s SUV. We’ve taken multiple vehicles during previous trips, but since there was so little left to grab, we decided on riding together for this last round.

My head tilts, and I glare at Trigg through the passenger window. I’m going to let King piss in his shoes for that little stunt. Maybe I’ll let him into Trigg’s room and help him up on the bed so he can piss on that expensive comforter Trigg brought with him.

I stomp to the back door and squeeze myself into the back seat.

My legs are spread in a V, and I’m sitting as far back as I can get, but my knees still dig into the leather of the seats in front of me.

This is how it goes anytime I’m forced to try to fit in the back seat of any vehicle.

Hell, maybe I should climb around and sit in the very back row.

Then I could stow the middle row of seats, and maybe my knees wouldn’t be about to leave a permanent indentation in the back of Knox’s seats.

I already gave Trigg the talk about checking all his shit for bed bugs. He better throw that expensive-ass blanket into the washer on the sanitize cycle as soon as we get in, or I will toss it in the dumpster.

I’m cranky.

Having Knox in my space is one thing. He’s used to staying over since he keeps King for me whenever I’m out of town. Adding Trigg to the mix is making me itchy.

“Hey, asshole, did you forget the way to my house?” I grumble, smacking the back of Knox’s head.

I was just contemplating asking where they want to grab takeout from for dinner, but it seems like Knox is lost.

Delivery is probably easier, anyway. That way, we don’t have to sit around waiting for them to make the food.

“No.” He snorts. “Trigg told me that we have one more stop.”

“That is correct,” Trigg says. “Make the next right. Two streets down, you’re going to make a left. I need to pick up my girlfriend.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “You mean kidnap the poor woman who has no idea you’ve been stalking her?”

After our meeting with Easton yesterday, everything moved fast.

The office went into lockdown mode, and everyone was informed of the threat.

Knox brought all his stuff over last night and took over the room he always stays in.

Trigg came over and gave us the full rundown of everyone he thinks Costa brought to Vermont and all the known players who viewed my contract. Half of them probably aren’t even here, but he went through every one of them. Either way, it’s good to know who to look out for.

He stayed focused during his debrief, but for the rest of the night up until he left, Trigg was on his phone repeatedly. Every time I tried to catch a look at what he was watching, he quickly exited the screen.

I would say that poor woman has no idea she has cameras in her house.

Not that it’s my business.

It probably runs in his genetics or something. Easton was all over Briar’s ass for months, and she had no idea. I know better than to get between a psychopath and their current hyperfixation.

Here’s hoping we don’t end up in jail for kidnapping…

Knox stays in the SUV, but I follow Trigg to the door. Someone should probably be around to ensure he doesn’t scare the poor woman to death.

He seems like the type to tote her kicking and screaming from the house.

Dammit.

I should have waited in the SUV too.

Maybe even encouraged Knox to drive off while Trigg was preoccupied.

Speaking of the deranged alpha, he hits a knee by the front door and begins picking the lock.

Jesus.

Where the hell did that thing come from?

Does he have a spawn tool like a video game character?

“Don’t you think knocking would be a better approach?” I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets and rocking on my heels.

“No,” he says simply, moving from the top lock to the bottom.

“Once she gets comfortable, it’s difficult for her to get up.

” He sighs heavily. “Also, if that asshole who thinks he can beat me in an alpha pissing match is the one to open the door, I might snap his neck. Then I’ll have to explain why he disappeared, and no excuses seem plausible. ”

“Man, tell me you’re not about to try to kidnap a woman who has a boyfriend.” I’ve seen Easton do some pretty questionable shit over the years—illegal activities that I swore we would go down for—but he’s calculating enough to plan for all the variables before taking action.

Trigg is a few years younger than us, which could be the reason, but he doesn’t seem to have that same level of premeditation.

He must feel confident that he’s popped the last lock because he hits his feet and tries the handle.

The door pushes open.

My head falls back as it shakes, and I silently curse the universe. Of course she couldn’t have had some super lock that Trigg couldn’t successfully pick. My luck isn’t solid enough for that.

I know one thing for sure—I’m not going to prison for Easton’s half brother.

Furthermore, this asshole is supposed to be here to keep me alive…not to kidnap some poor, unsuspecting woman.

Trigg pushes the door open and strides inside, and I legitimately do not know what to do with myself.

I’m no stranger to illegal activities—I kill people professionally—but I’m not sure how I feel about this.

If it wouldn’t make me look like a snitch, I’d call Easton and rat Trigg out. But in my line of work, loose lips get you murdered in your sleep.

“This is gonna go well.” I snort. “I can feel it…” I curse under my breath and follow the psycho inside the house.

My nose twitches.

Am I hallucinating ?

No.

No fucking way.

That coconut and creamy vanilla scent is distinct. It’s haunted my dreams for months.

There’s no possible way…

“Angel? I hate to drop by unannounced, but it’s an emergency,” Trigg says, taking a left and disappearing into whatever room that leads to. “Quincy?”

My jaw hits the floor like I’m a cartoon character.