Page 195 of Tempting Little Thief

He gets one look at me, and his eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?”

Something tightens in my chest and I look down, the other cars zooming past us and leaving us in a cloud of dust, but Bastian holds firm.

His fingers slide beneath my chin, lifting it, his frown deepening as he gets a closer look. “Tell me,” he whispers, his words a soft demand.

God, I’ve missed him, but this isn’t the time or the place for me to lose my shit again, so I offer a small smile and remove his hand. “Something is wrong,” I remind him, even if I don’t know what it is. “Focus.”

He wants to argue, I can see it in the firm set of his jaw, but like me, he knows there’ll be time for this later, so he whips us around and takes a right out of the driveway.

“So what happened? Did they hire you again or something?”

He scoffs at that, taking a right when we reach the street. After a moment, he adds, “They couldn’t afford me anymore if they wanted to, Rich Girl.”

I face him, and when he sneaks a quick peek, I lift a brow.

A hint of a grin twitches his lips, but the angry frustration quickly settles back into place as a giant brick sign that readsWelcome to Brayshaw Highcomes into view, the others pulling into the parking lot already.

He works the engine, hitting the throttle harder to clear the half-mile gap, and burns rubber with his sharp turn.

Smoke rolls into the air near the open field, and I don’t have to ask.

“Someone I punished in the Brayshaw name showed up where my sister was living. I don’t know how he found out where she was, but she was gone once he got there,” he shares, skirting to a stop. “They think he’s here now, two birds, one fucking stone, so we’re looking into a fire that was started.” He throws his seat belt off, reaching for his handle.

“If he hurts her, we can get rid of him very easily.”

Bastian’s eyes snap to mine, holding, and while it’s only a split second, there’s so much to see.

He’s angry with me. Really angry. And he hates how he has to keep reminding himself of this because, at the end of the day, he misses me too.

All the boys—I could roll my eyes so hard right now at that—are out of the car in seconds, looking like a gang of, well, gangsters. The Brayshaws really don’t live life like the Greysons.

They’re like Bastian, rough around the edges, and they won’t allow you to forget it.

“Stay in the car,” Royce orders Brielle like a puppet.

A small smirk pulls at my lips, but then Bastian pins me with a warning glare that means the same thing, I’m to keep my ass where it sits.

And I do … until the second they disappear, and what do you know, I’m not the only one.

Little sister jumps out as fast as me, the two of us staring at the dark smoke billowing high in the sky. I walk up beside her with a small quirk of my lips, unsure of what part to play here, but I adopt one fairly quickly—the stereotype is always the easiest.

“Brielle Bishop, in the flesh.” I look over her petite frame. “You don’t look like the helpless little lamb he’s made you out to be.”

Her brows pull into a frown as her chest grows with a deep inhale. “Not to be rude, but I don’t want to talk to you right now. I don’t even know who you are.”

“Really?” I pretend to be surprised when I’m not. No part of me expected her to know who I was. Bastian shielded her from nearly all aspects of his life. I’m not convinced she needed him to, but what do I know? I do like how she’s not fishing for info on big brother, though. It’s admirable and I am more than happy to give her the silence she’s after. “Huh.” I nod, walk back to Bastian’s car, and slip inside. I know she’s watching me, so I do everything I can to make sure she’s clueless that I’m doing the same as I find a pair of headphones in the center console and tuck them in my ears, lowering my eyelids so she’s sure I’m not paying her any mind.

It works, and she moves to stand beside the truck that showed at the mansion and led to us coming here. She’s nervous, but I can’t guess why. I imagine it’s a lot of things at the moment. Honestly, the girl kind of sucks at hiding her emotions. Her brother is nearly a vault, as she should be if this place really does have dangers that hide in the shadows, as they do in our world. That reminds me.

With one eye on Brielle and the other on my phone, I try Boston once more, but she doesn’t pick up. I try Delta and then Bronx and it’s the same thing.

“What the fuck, people?”

I text Dom.

Me: someone better call me and quickly.

Headlights flash across the side mirror and I look to find a car pulling up next to the truck Brielle is standing by. Quietly, I quickly step out of the car, flipping the knife open at my side and dragging the blade across my thigh, but then Brielle smiles at the guy who pops his head out.

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