Page 105 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

I turn toward my mother, frowning. “You know something.”

She shakes her head. “What?”

The door bangs open behind me, and a hand lands on my shoulder.

“They’re not here.” Matt sees who I’m locked in a staring contest with and coughs. “Holy shit. Mrs. Asher?”

“Matthew,” my mother comments. “Did you boys come for brunch?”

“No,” Matt says.

Mother’s eyebrow goes up. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Did you deliver my message to Uncle David?” I ask.

“About Columbia?” She tilts her head, confusion washing over her features. It’s an act—every emotion she reveals is an act. She’s much more calculating than that. “Of course I did.”

“Great. Just checking.” I shove Matt out the door ahead of me.

“Caleb, wait—”

I ignore her.

Once we’re outside, I let out a growl.

“What the hell was that?” Matt demands. He grabs my arm, stopping me. “Dude. Why is your mom working at a shitty diner two towns away from Rose Hill?”

I shrug, yanking free. “Beats me.”

He shakes his head, following me back to his car. “This is so fucked up.”

“You’re telling me?”

“Well, whoever normally connects there, I guess maybe your mom would know?” He unlocks the car, and we slide back in. “Damn. I didn’t think this was going to be a wasted trip. I guess we could camp out here, see if anyone you recognize shows up.”

I grunt. “Fine.”

We sit and wait. Every person who comes into the diner isn’t right. Matt and I get antsy, and eventually we decide to head home.

I try not to take the day personally, but it comes down to one thing.

We failed. And somehow I’ll have to go pretend everything is dandy with Margo, knowing Unknown is just going to make another attempt to spy on her.

That gets me thinking. Plotting.

She might just be safer with me.

“You have a gleam in your eye,” Matt comments. “Care to share?”

I don’t. I shake my head at him. “Just take me back.”

We drive in silence back toward Eli’s house. A black car is parked in the driveway, and dread laces through me. Just the person I didn’t want to see.

“You okay?”

“My uncle.” I climb out and pat the roof. “Don’t forget to send me those files.”

“See ya next week,” Matt says, lifting his hand.

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