Page 93 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

Donovan’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what you're worried about?”

“Aren’t you? You’re a cop, for Christ’s sake.”

As if he just remembered that, he nodded. “Yes, of course. What I meant was, shouldn’t we be focused on the girl?”

“Yes. So, what’s next?”

“I assume you got a text? Text them back and tell them you’ll meet them with the papers on Howard Street. There’s an old warehouse there that the crew uses.”

I picked up my phone and sent the text. A second later, a reply came back.

30 minutes

“They said to meet in thirty minutes.”

“We should go, then. You’ve got the papers?”

I nodded. As I went to pick them up, I had this feeling I was about to die. If Donovan was a part of this, all he had to do was kill me now and take the papers. I realized that I wasn’t so afraid of dying as I was of missing out. Of not having more time with the girls. Of not finding forgiveness for Lindsay and telling her I loved her.

I went over the desk, opening the drawer. The envelope was there, along with paper and envelopes.

“I’m going to take a piss, then we can go.”

For a moment, I felt like God was on my side. I scribbled a note, planning to leave it for Agent Marsden at the front desk. I put the time and place on Howard street. I also gave her access information to my voicemail.

“Ready?” Donovan asked.

I picked up the packet while I shoved the envelope in my pocket. “You don’t want them?”

“You insisted on handling it, so you will.”

“I wonder if Darcy is a part of this,” I said, although I wasn’t sure why. What did it matter now?

“Why would you say that?” Donovan arched a brow at me.

“She was friends with Liam. And she blamed Wally for her incarceration.”

“Could be.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. It was a move that suggested nonchalance, but I wasn’t buying it. “Maybe instead of worrying about all that, we focus on getting the girl back. Then I’d suggest you go back to your billions of dollars in California and put us all behind you again.”

That might have been nice except my life was now in Boston. Or was it? Olivia’s situation was my fault. I’d insisted on finishing what Liam started even while knowing it was likely what got him killed. What had I been thinking?

I headed to the door.

“You should leave your phone here,” Donovan said. “It could be used to track you. You don’t want the FBI fucking things up by going in guns blazing.”

I didn’t like the idea of not having my phone. I also didn’t like that I couldn’t figure out whether Donovan was being legit or not. But I didn’t have much choice but to listen to him if I wanted to keep my suspicions about him a secret. I set the phone on the desk, disconnecting from my voicemail.

I followed Donovan out of the suite and into the elevator. We arrived at the lobby, and I started toward the front desk when I saw Agent Marsden in a courier uniform.

“Shit, I forgot,” I said to Donovan. I walked over to her. “Are you the courier to meet with Oliver Quinlan?”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked from me to Donovan. “Yes, sir.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out an envelope with a paper I’d scribbled on quickly before I left the room. “Here’s my package. Make sure it gets delivered.”

Then I moved on toward the exit with Donovan to where he said he’d left his car. I had to hope to hell that she knew what to do with the information and could help me save Olivia.

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