Page 9 of Cryptic Curse

But then I stop.

My sister Raven and her boyfriend, Vinnie, are walking toward me.Behind them, Robin appears.

“Hey,” I say to all of them.

Grace walks back toward us.“You guys are going to think I’m crazy, just like Hawk did, but I need to see all of your IDs.”

“What?”Robin asks a little sharply.

But that’s Robin for you.

“It’s your brother’s orders,” Grace says.

“You know exactly who we are,” Robin says, again sharply.

“Oh, Robbie, you know Falcon.”Raven pats her hip.“Shit.You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What is it, baby?”Vinnie asks.

She slaps her palm against her forehead.“I was so excited that Dad was awake that I forgot my purse.It’s back home.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Vinnie says.“You know who she is, Grace.You know her father wants to see her.”

Grace sighs.“I’m sorry.No exceptions.I’m not trying to be a badass or anything.”

“I already talked to Falcon about it,” I say.“Dad’s attorneys are requiring it.”

Robin rolls her eyes as she pulls out her ID and flashes it at Grace.“Satisfied?”

Grace isn’t bothered at all by her rudeness.“Absolutely.Go on in and see your dad.”

“You’re not seriously going to make us go get the ID, are you?”Vinnie says.

“I’m so sorry,” Grace says.

“It’s okay, Grace,” I cut in.“I’m sorry, Ray.If the attorneys and security are requiring it…”

“It’s no problem,” Vinnie says.“I’ll just call Daniela.She can bring it over.”

“What about Eagle?”Raven asks.

I let out a huff of air unintentionally.“Not here yet.”

“Seriously?”Raven says.“When I talked to Falcon, he told me he called Eagle first.”

I resist an eye roll.This is so very Eagle.Falcon calls him first, and he’s the last to show up.Probably gave him some flimsy excuse.Something that involves Scarlett Ramsey again, no doubt.

I’ve been my younger brother’s keeper for the last eight years.Ever since Falcon went to prison, it fell to me.I’m the one who saw that he went through rehab, and I’ve done everything I can to keep him clean since then, even spending several sleepless nights with him when he was afraid he was going to relapse.

And then the times when hedidrelapse…

I’m so damned tired.

Every time I turn around, he’s there—half-broken, bloodied, or lying through his teeth about howthis timehe’s got it under control.And every time, like clockwork, I’m the one picking up the pieces.

Again.

My parents don’t know.My brother and sisters don’t know.

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