This time, I climb into the backseat before Maxx can make the sacrifice, and he gives me a narrow-eyed look that reminds me of Parrish in a way. With a grunt of displeasure, he pushes the front seat back into place and climbs in.
I take a minute to check my messages—nothing of note there.
And then I crack that cover and get ready to dig in.
Whoever knew I’d have to read in order to save my stepbrother/boyfriend?
I won’t complain about this particular task, that’s for sure.
The beginning of the book is so reminiscent of the way Tess begins her novels that my heart aches, both for her and the great-grandmother I never met. Clearly, my bio mom was inspired by her grandmother’s hero.
‘The intense interest aroused in the public by what was known at the time as “The Styles Case” has now somewhat subsided. Nevertheless, in view of the world-wide notoriety which attended it, I have been asked, both by my friend Poirot and the family themselves, to write an account of the whole story …’
One day, if I happen to survive this nightmare that’s become my life, I may very well write it down.
Tess Vanguard, eat your heart out.
The boys take me straight to my dinner date with Justin. By the time we arrive, I’m about a third of the way through the book. I’ll admit, it’s damn good. If I weren’t frantically reading it in an attempt to save the life of someone I love, I’d be obsessed. As things stand, this is an assignment and nothing more.
“The Secret Cache, huh? How subtle,” Chasm remarks as we pull up in front of the winery. It’s just outside the city limits, this charming stone building covered in vines and already lit up with gas lanterns on the exterior, despite the fact that the sun is still out. “This is the winery on our list. Saves us some trouble, eh?”
“That could be the clue, you know,” Maxx remarks, staring out the window at the large building and all the finely dressed people coming and going from the restaurant portion. “The wine in the room with Parrish. Maybe it’s a wine cellar, maybe not. But I bet you it’s all wine from this place.” He points out the window and then glances over at Chasm. “Did we delete all the video calls, or do we have any saved that we could look at?”
“We deleted them all,” I murmur, tearing my eyes away from the page and blinking myself out of one world and into another. There’s a certain magic to books that can’t be found anywhere else; it’s the only way to accurately see into someone else’s head. Essentially, books are empathy keys. Read enough and you’ll start to figure out that you aren’t always the main character in every story. “But that’s a good thought. I’ll ask Justin to see Parrish again tonight and see if I can’t pick out any details.”
Maxx and Chasm climb out with me, and the three of us stand there together for a minute, staring up at the building.
“Guess we’ll search the place while you eat?” Maxx offers, glancing over at me, and I nod.
“Justin’s taking me home afterward, so feel free to leave whenever.” I stare off toward the front entrance when Maxx’s hand darts out, his fingers curling around my wrist. I pause, my book bag slung over one shoulder, the Agatha Christie book tucked under that same arm, and glance back.
“Be careful, Kota,” he warns me, his voice both tender and dark at the same time. Our eyes meet, and a shiver travels through me. I give a sharp nod, my gaze drifting to Chasm as he slides his left hand into his pocket and lets out a tired sigh.
“You’re not allowed to die before we solve this love triangle,” he says, swirling a single finger around to indicate the three of us. “Or … love quad. Whatever. Just don’t die, Little Sister.” His face simultaneously softens and gets more serious all at once. “We’ll make sure there’s nowhere that Parrish could be hiding here although with the number of people, I doubt it.”
“Thank you,” I reply honestly, because I can’t begin to imagine how hard this would be if I were on my own. Maxx holds my wrist for a heartbeat longer before reluctantly releasing me. I can feel their eyes on my back as I make quick work of the stairs and enter a swanky waiting area with lush carpets over the stone floors, and crystal chandeliers high over head.
I weave through the finely dressed crowd toward the restaurant’s entrance, slipping past the host stand and spotting Justin Prior right away on the far side of the room. He’s already looking right at me, as if he’s anticipated my entrance, lifting up a glass of wine in greeting.
