Page 103 of Masks and Mishaps

“I knew someone was drinking it!” I exclaim. “I knew nobody was going to the library toread.”

“Jesus, Dalton,” Cora mutters.

“So, you weredrinking,” Lander remarks, shooting a quick, shut-up look in my direction before he faces Christian again, “and you expect us to believe a drunk twenty-year-old went to an unlocked library and encountered a heinous crime?” He runs his hand in a sweeping gesture toward Christian. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present a highly unreliable witness. He has no evidence for these accusations.”

“I have his phone,” Christian announces before he shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out my phone—and my stomach free-falls. “I told you—he wasfilming it.”

The niceties have retired. “Give me that,” I demand, shoving back my chair and looping around the table.

“Give me the code,” Christian replies, backing away.

“Get fucked and give me back my phone,” I warn, sliding between Essie’s chair and the paneling to get to Christian.

“No—give me the code,” he repeats, glancing between the phone and me while he heads for the door.

“You little shit.” I barely miss his arm on a lunge, but I’m close—until the twins block my path. Like their sister, these assholes areloyal.

Porter catches his son by the arm and holds out his hand. “Christian, give me that,” he demands. To my annoyance, Christian gives in.

Porter faces my mom. “Alyssa, unlock it.”

“No,” my mother replies without missing a beat. Her arms are folded over her chest, and she doesn’t even glance at the phone in her face. “I don’t need proof to know my son isn’t a deviant, let alone a killer. And frankly—fuck you for asking, Porter.”

Porter’s lips part, but before he can respond, Christian snatches the phone back and says, “When’s his birthday, Essie?”

Essie glances at me and our eyes lock before she faces her brother and holds out her hand. “I’ll put it in,” she volunteers.

Christian pauses. He stares at Essie hard before he looks over at me—and his eyes narrow. Without a word, he taps six numbers into my phone’s lock screen before he holds it up.

It’s unlocked.

The niceties are not only retired, but they’ve been replaced with pure bedlam. I break loose from Tommy and Luis and rush around the table, where Christian is already trying to outrun me. He’s headed for the door to the dining room, which leads to the hallway—

SLAM.

Christian collides with the wall so abruptly that the drywall creaks, and he cries out in pain before clutching his side.

“Christian!” Essie calls out before covering her mouth with her hand.

Triumphant, Valeria shakes out her fist, wiggling her freshly-manicured nails like she always does after she punches the dignity out of some poor bastard. “Problem solved,” she declares before she takes my phone from Christian’s weakening grasp and passes it to me.

“Why is Essie’s birthday your password?” Christian demands through stilted, strained inhalations.

Essie, who was weaving around the table to tend to her scumbag brother, stops in her tracks.

“Are you stalking her?” Christian continues, glaring at me. “Is she next?”

“You dramatic little weasel,Iwas the woman Dalton was murdering last night,” Essie finally announces, freezing the dining room for a third time tonight.

“Really?” I snap, shooting her a look. “Murdering?”

“You all know what I mean,” she replies, waving it off before she glances around the room. “There. Dalton and I were hooking up last night.”

Christian’s expression is equal parts horrified and confused. “No. No way.”

“Yes,” she states. “I was with him in the library.”

But he keeps shaking his head. “You let him do…thatto you? You let him film you?”

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