Page 122 of Fake Game

“This is serious, Parker.”

His face sobers and he squeezes her hand. “I know. I just—”

“I know.” She cuts him off and kisses his cheek. “I know.”

They rest their foreheads against one another’s and speak in hushed voices. All the while I’m here with my heart bleeding on the floor. The police came in to take Parker’s statement earlier, and it seems like they might have a few leads, but until Deer wakes up, we’re in a holding pattern.

Because it’s most likely that she was the target, and Parker just got caught in the crossfire.

It makes me want to smash something.

The door to the hospital suite swings open, and Aleks walks in, running his hand through his hair—which is basically standing straight up at this point from the number of times he has made the motion.

“Any news?”

“Maybe. We still have to wait for Deer’s statement before we can confirm.”

“So, they have something?”

“Maybe.”

I stalk over to him, getting right up to his chest. “Don’t fuck with me, Aleksander.”

“I’m not.” He takes a step closer. “But I’m not telling you shit before it’s verified because you’ll go fucking apoplectic.”

“She was fucking drugged,” I growl. “Under our watch.”

“Boys,” Sydney’s cold voice cuts through. “You will not argue in this room.”

“Well, this seems like a party,” a feminine English accent drawls. The owner of the voice places her hands between Aleksander and me, not so gently pushing us apart so she can walk between us. “Hey, lil’ bro.”

“Pheebs.” Parker sits up, eyes lighting up as his eldest sister strolls over.

“You look pretty shit.” She ruffles his hair.

“Gee, thanks.” He bats her hand away. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were headed to London.”

She scoffs. “I had the jet turn around and reroute here. You’re all over the news. I mean, really, Parker, you think people wouldn’t notice a Covington being rushed to the hospital?”

“Wow. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“It’s fine, Dad’s handling my stuff.” She rests her hip on the metal bedframe and runs her sharp blue gaze over the rest of us. Phoebe Covington has a perpetually icy aura around her, one that screams ‘don’t fuck with me.’ “There’s quite the army of reporters outside.”

“I know,” Sydney groans, running a hand down her face. “They weren’t appeased by my statement.”

“I can get rid of them.”

Syd looks like she is about to refuse, but her shoulders droop. She’s been awake for as long as I have, and the exhaustion has spawned dark circles that make her gray eyes look even more haunted. “Only if it’s not a hassle.”

“It’s not.” She whips out her cell and starts tapping away.

Over the last year, Parker’s sister has fixed our issues in more ways than I can count—from blackmail, to scandals, tostalkers. She might be the current Chief Financial Officer for the Covington conglomerate and the heir to the entire company, but that woman has connections all over the world that surpass even her family. I’ve learned not to look too closely at how blurry the line she walks is.

There’s a short knock at the door, and Aleksander and I spin around. A man I don’t recognize steps into the room, and while I go on high alert, his demeanor has me hesitating. The security team outside wouldn’t let just anyone enter this room; they were under explicit instructions.

Phoebe glides past us and the man leans down to whisper something in her ear. Her eyes narrow to slits. She pulls him closer to the door and they continue to exchange hushed words.

It sets off a million alarm bells in my mind.

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