Page 21 of Sweet Revenge
“Let me take you back to the hotel.”
She dragged her gaze up to meet his, eyes unfocused. “Isn’t there a family thing? I should go to that.”
“It’ll just be people talking and eating and drinking.”
“Is it really an Irish party if there isn’t any booze?”
He grinned. She’d said the exact same thing about their wedding. “That’s why we always have lots of it.”
She looked at him then, and he saw the recognition in her eyes. Her mouth opened, then closed again, and she shook her head, looking at a distant point over his shoulder.
“Let me take you back.”
“Yeah. Okay,” she replied softly.
They drove back to the hotel in silence, and to Declan’s surprise, she let him walk her to her room without arguing. He waited for her to slip the key into the slot and the door to swing in. He was just about to speak when she bit off a curse and rushed inside.
He slapped a hand out to catch the door, curious as she bent down to examine her bag where it sat on the edge of the bed. She peered inside without touching it and then stood up to take a better look around the room.
“What is it?”
She turned from the front of the closet and glanced down at the bag. “That was zipped when I left.”
“Maybe you just thought you zipped it and forgot.”
She pinned him with a hard stare. “This door was closed, not open. Did I forget that too?”
Probably not. But why would someone break into her hotel room? “Maybe the maids got nosy, poked around a little.”
“But didn’t make the bed?”
His eyes followed her hand to the rumpled covers and haphazardly placed pillows. She crossed to the bathroom without a word while he studied the closet. The hangers had all been pushed to one side, not exactly evidence that someone had gotten in, but if she said she’d left it closed, he had no reason not to believe her.
When she didn’t emerge from the bathroom, he joined her, frowning at the look on her face. Then he caught a glimpse of the mirror out of the corner of his eye and turned. What the fuck.
YOU’RE NEXT
The words were scrawled across the mirror in bright red lipstick, the tube left sitting, uncapped, on the edge of the counter. He moved closer to examine it, and when he focused on her reflection, he noted how the words fell over her body. The thought that someone was threatening her incensed him, and his hands curled into fists.
“Who knows you’re in Philly right now?” he demanded.
“No one.”
“You’re sure?” He moved to stand in front of her. “Then who would know to threaten you here?”
“I’m guessing the bastard who killed my parents.”
He whipped his head around to study the mirror again.You’re next.Meaning her parents had been first. Before he could respond, his phone signaled, and he held it up to show her who it was.
“Nessa. What? Slow down. What happened?” His eyes held Evie’s as he listened to Nessa’s hysteric ramblings. “Don’t touch it. I’m going to send Brogan over to take some photos. Okay, that’s fine. Go wait for him downstairs.”
He disconnected the call and tapped out a quick text to Brogan before meeting Evie’s curious gaze. “She found the same message on her mirror.”
Evie sucked in a sharp breath. The thought of her going, knowing someone was actively hunting her, made his stomach tighten. If she insisted on leaving again, he wasn’t going to let her go easy this time.
“What are you going to do now?”
Her voice was hard when she spoke. “I’m going to stay and figure out who the fuck murdered my parents.”
