Page 163 of Happily Never After

Claire’s stomach twisted. How high was it? Eight feet? If she could teach Luke how to do a quick basket toss, she was pretty sure she could make it over.

“Idiots,” Luke muttered into the darkness.

“What?” She whirled around. Was someone else outside? Had they been caught?

He crossed the yard of the house under construction and moved a tarp to the side. An eight-foot ladder rested snugly inside.

“Oh, thank god.” Her knees would have been skinned to shreds if Luke had tossed her.

“Back there,” he said, gesturing at the back of Big Z’s vast estate. “See those trees?”

The tops of what looked to be maple trees towered over the fence.

“You think they’ll provide enough cover?” Claire eyed them dubiously.

He shrugged. “It’s the best shot we have. Come on.”

She trailed behind him as they approached the back of the lot. She glanced over her shoulder repeatedly, but the streets were quiet. One of the security cameras Charlie had mentioned was perched on the top of the fence, but it was pointing away from them.

Luke unfolded the ladder and turned to Claire.

“Don’t even try,” she said sternly.

“What?”

“You were going to try to talk me out of going inside. It won’t work. And we’re wasting time. Hold the ladder.”

He frowned.

“Those are my sisters,” she said with one foot on the bottom rung. “Unless Jack has a secret third family he’s been hiding, they’re the only siblings I have. I have to go.” Her heart jumped erratically in her chest, but she ignored it. The second dose of her medication she had taken at the safe house was probably the only thing keeping her from dissolving into a full-blown panic attack.

“I figured you’d say that. Hurry up.” He nodded at the ladder.

Claire took the rungs one at a time until her head popped over the gate. This was no time to be hasty. If she tumbled into Big Z’s garden with a crowd full of witnesses, she would ruin everything.

She peered around the branches of the maple tree. Other than a gently tinkling fountain and dreamy-looking pool, the backyard was empty. All the owners of the cars must be inside.

“What do you see?” Luke called from the ground.

“Backyard is clear. I’m going over.” She put one foot on the top of the fence. Thank god for emergency flats. She managed to shift until she was sitting down, then dropped heavily onto the soil below. Her knees creaked, but nothing seemed to be broken.

“Come on,” she whispered to Luke. She ducked behind a shrub and surveyed the back of the house.

A lavishly decorated patio connected the house to the backyard. A massive pool with a swim-up bar and hot tub stood to one side. Several phallic-looking metallic sculptures were sprinkled throughout the space. A statue of Priapus, a Greek fertility god with a monster dong, peed into a pool below him. Tacky.

She narrowed her eyes. There, toward the left side of the house, was a small window. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like it was cracked open an inch. Luke landed beside her, as agile as a cat.

“How do we cross without being seen?” she whispered.

“I have an idea.” He pulled a handkerchief and a lighter out of his suit jacket. “If we cause a distraction, we won’t have to worry about them seeing us on the cameras.”

“What are you planning to set on fire? And why do you have a lighter? You don’t smoke,” she said.

“I don’t know yet. And you’re right, I don’t smoke. But all the big studio executives do. You always want to have a light for them at the after party, trust me. It’s basically a networking tool.”

Claire shook her head. Her eyes swept the yard for dry kindling or anything that looked flammable.

“Luke,” she said as her gaze fell on the wet bar. “What do you say to a little feminist Molotov cocktail?”

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