Page 37 of Three of a Kind

Brooklyn seems terrified to see him.

Lennox’s sister is Avan’s ex.

Reality slams into me like a ton of bricks.

How fucking jacked up is fate?

Apparently, the universe is fond of fucked-up coincidences.

Brooklyn grabs a chunky sweater off the back of the chair near the register and pulls it on as she walks around to exit the counter.

I glance over my shoulder, and Barrett is typing away on his phone.

Everything in me wants to end the threat right now, so Brooklyn never has to be afraid again.

However, here and now isn’t the time or the place.

Not unless I want to go to jail for murder.

I focus on Brooklyn and follow her toward the opposite end of the store, but my mind races.

This entire situation just got majorly complicated.

Brooklyn shows me to a special case of books in the back. She fidgets, wrapping her sweater around her middle.

It’s far from cold in the bookstore.

“These are the rarest books we’ve got.” She gives a tight smile. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to bring the key to unlock it. Would you mind browsing for a second while I grab it?”

“I’ve got time,” I say, glancing past her to see the mafia boss standing at the edge of the glass checkout counter. He’s glaring down at his phone, but she’s clearly concerned about his presence. “If you need to take care of that other customer, it’s no problem.”

“T-Thanks,” she stutters, her gaze falling to the floor. “I’ll be back.”

Everything in me aches to follow her. Even knowing he’s in her general vicinity has my instincts on the verge of acting like a feral alpha.

I blow out a heavy breath and focus on the books in the locked cabinet.

No matter how far I tilt my head, I can’t seem to pick up what they’re saying.

Customers browse, right?

Yeah, they sure fucking do.

There’s no reason I should have to stay in one spot. I spin around, slowly perusing the shelf behind me before sliding my way closer to the checkout counter.

I don’t push my luck, stopping a good ten feet away from where they stand.

“Why would you come here just to give me this?” Brooklyn asks, her tone shrill. “Seriously, a call or text would do.”

“Brook…” His slimy voice makes me ache to stomp over and rip his head from his shoulders. “I hate to remind you, but you’re the one who broke up with me.”

“I did,” she agrees. “And for good reason. You know what? I’m happy for you. Congratulations. Liberty and I will have to pass on attending.”

I glance over my shoulder.

She shoves a card at his chest, but Avan refuses to take it.

“Bianca wants Libby to be our flower girl,” he says, shoving her hand away. “She’s my daughter too.”

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