Page 68 of Without a Trace

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And then I whispered, cold and even, “You’re not protecting me. You’re just delaying the part where I hate you. Just get out.”

I walked to the door, hand shaking, and slammed it behind them so hard the frame rattled.

Scarlett

They said we were stuck another day.

Power out down the road And the new guy’s—Zeke—his carconvenientlywouldn’t start. Something about the weather. Something about “too dangerous to leave.”

I didn’t care about the reason.

Because they weren’t ready for what I was going to do with another day.

Everyone was on edge. Walking on glass. Trace hadn’t looked me in the eye since I slammed the door in his face. Alden kept checking in with those quiet glances that said everything he didn’t say out loud. Kane and Rhett had barely spoken.

And me?

I was fine.

Totally.

Fucking.

Fine.

I walked into the living room in one of Lena’s oversized button-downs, unbuttoned just enough to cause a problem. My bikini bottoms peeked out. My hair a mess.

Let them look.

They were.

“Want to play something?” I asked sweetly, dropping onto the couch.

Kane raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Truth or dare?” I offered, innocent.

Rhett groaned. “Please no.”

“Strip poker?” I smirked.

Trace looked up. Just for a second. Then looked away.

Coward.

Alden sat in the corner, hands clasped, like he didn’t trust himself to move.

Good.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s play ‘Most Likely To.’” I crossed one leg over the other, slow. “Most likely to snap first. Most likely to lie to the people they care about. Most likely to watch someone break and not do a damn thing.”

Sloane whistled low. “Damn, Scar.”

Lena threw popcorn at me. “You’re unhinged.”

“Finally someone notices,” I said with a grin.

I was burning inside.

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