Page 89 of Fatal Scheme

A few hours ago, Jasper confessed that he warned his mother, unable to live with himself if something happened to her, and although Tyson was furious, thinking she’d spill the beans of our exit, she did exactly what her son said.

The tracker he placed in her purse finally started moving south, and although Jasper tried to be cool about it, it was obvious that he felt relief in that moment, making our leaving that much easier.

“You okay, baby girl?” Tyson’s booming voice makes me jump, the empty room causing his words to echo off the walls more than usual.

“Just taking it all in. I’m going to miss this place,” I smile, the memories of this room flooding me all at once, reminders of my first night spent here hitting especially hard.

I fell in love in this house.

It was never supposed to turn out this way, but I learned more about myself than I ever thought was possible, and I’m going to miss the time spent here, snuggled between my boys as we began a journey none of us saw coming.

A lot of firsts happened in this room, on this bed, and I’ll always be grateful for having a sacred space I can look back on, even when we’re far away, creating something new.

“We have one more night,” Tyson teases, climbing into bed with me, tackling me onto the pillows while straddling my lower body and pinning me against the mattress.

“What do you have in mind?” I tangle my hands in his growing hair, tugging until his lips are hovering above mine.

“You’re lucky I packed away the restraints already, or I’d have a million different ideas,” he whispers, the two of us close enough to share the same breath.

“Actually, it’s late, and we need to sleep,” Jasper says, both of us jumping at his sudden arrival, and strange behavior.

This exit plan has him on edge, his stress levels ten times higher than they usually are, whereas Tyson has been cool as a cucumber, a stark difference in how they typically behave.

It’s some kind of Freaky Friday switch, but I’m loving the more playful side of Tyson, his moods becoming more relaxed as we get closer to leaving the life he hates behind.

We haven’t even left yet, and it’s already changing him, the tension loosening from his muscles with every passing second.

“Okay fine, Mr. Responsible,” I snark, rolling my eyes and pushing Tyson’s massive frame off of mine, scooting over to make room for Jasper.

“Says the passenger princess who will sleep for the first few hours of the drive,” he argues, kicking off his shoes and climbing under the covers.

“That’s rich, coming from the real passenger princess who never offers to drive on long trips,” Tyson chimes in, a shit-eating grin on his face, and I can seriously get used to this playful side of him, it only enhancing how sexy he is.

“Oh shut up, you fucking control freak! I don’t even pump gas right, according to you.” They continue bickering while I lay directly in the middle, not taking sides but laughing at each and every barb they trade, the brotherly connection being used to hit each other right where it hurts.

“Okay boys, that’s enough.” I tap both of their shoulders, putting an end to this little argument to get some sleep, like Jasper suggested.

Both of them need to be at the top of their game, and even though we don’t have a current destination, my only request was that we find a coastline.

I’m desperate to be basked in warmth with my toes in the sand, margaritas in hand, and the ocean only a few feet away.

“Sorry, Mom,” Jasper squeaks, behaving like a scolded little boy, and I can’t help but quickly kiss his lips, then turning to do the same to Tyson.

“I love you both.” I snuggle under the blankets, my head resting on Tyson’s chest while Jasper cuddles up to my backside, the three of us fitting together perfectly.

A sudden crash jerks us all back into a sitting position, the frat idiots downstairs throwing another fucking party, and it likely getting out of control, as usual.

Normally we don’t care, they leave us alone, and we pay them no mind, but tonight, I can feel the anger radiating off both my boys.

“Fucking frat kids,” Tyson groans, pulling me back down, but the second my head lands on his chest, loud pops ring out, followed by piercing screams.

We don’t hesitate, jumping out of the bed like it was on fire, and I grab my knife, inching toward the door to get a better idea of what’s happening downstairs.

Since the ambush, we vowed to never be caught off guard again, the plan to run to the safe room is always the play, and we all move into action.

“Here, baby girl.” Tyson hands me a pistol from the stash under his bed, and both men stand in front of me, checking the hallways before slowly exiting the room with their weapons drawn.

From here, the safe room feels like it’s miles away, especially as the chaos moves closer, likely breaking down the security measures we put on the second floor and heading straight for us on the third.