Page 17 of The Secrets She Keeps

Brianna studied this kid, trying to see something they shared physically.

Maybe the shape of their eyebrows, a little. This kid had dark curly hair like Timothy’s and dark eyes from somewhere. She had freckles too. She just looked so generic, really. Like every other dumb kid living in this neighborhood or something. “But what am I supposed to do with her this week? I have plans.”

She and Jack were planning to have a really nice dinner tonight. He’d be angry if she canceled. She had intended to seduce him again. She loved being with him. He made her feel special. Cherished.

How was she supposed to do that with a kid hanging around?

“Hire a babysitter. I will pay for it. I just need to be free to meet with my contacts, and I want her in a safe place for that. Away from Trey’s friends. I wishyouwould stay away fromTrey’s friends, too, young lady. They are not good men.” He gave her that look. That all parent-y one that both irritated the hell out of her and made her feel like she actually mattered to him and everything. “You will watch your little sister, Brianna. I need you to. While I get your brother out of trouble.”

She was stuck with the kid, whether she liked it or not. At least for now. “Fine. You win. She can stay. For now. Don’t, like, die and leave me alone with her or anything forever, okay?”

“Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen.”

Her father hugged her. Something Brianna wasn’t really used to, but sometimes she didn’t mind. He was her father—and he wanted her. That was more than her stepfather had ever done.

But why did she get stuck with this kid? It just wasn’t fair.

12

Powell was fighting throwing up.Probably from the flight. That was all it had taken to get her stomach beyond upset. She was seriously trying not to freak out here.

Even crackers and ginger ale hadn’t helped.

Nor had having her brothers Mac and Alex staring at her, worry in their matching blue eyes. They reminded her so much of her father.

They were all just so perfectlypretty. It was utterly irritating sometimes.

“You sure they said he was going to be okay?” Powell asked as Mac pulled the rental truck into the parking lot of the Talley Inn in Masterson County, Wyoming.

Her hand covered her stomach again.

Viking babies did notlike anything with marinara sauce right now. Viking babies just didnot.She was going to have to remember that. They also did not like flying.

But for now. “What did they say exactly?”

“It was Charlotte’s cousin. She said Brandt was assaulted by who they think were thieves on his new property,” Mac’s voice was tight. He had thatlookthat said he was furious with theworld again. He tended to get it—when he thought he had to protect the rest of them from something. He took being the oldest of their little quartet very, very seriously. “He made it through the woods back to the inn, where they called for help. He’s going to be sore for a while, but he’ll be fine, eventually.”

“Any idea who the guys were?”

“I am not sure. We’ll have to talk to the police when we get a chance. Stay there. I think there may be ice in the parking lot,” Mac ordered.

He was really good atordering.

“I can take care of myself. Even on ice.” She was really good at not following. She had had a lifetime to develop the habit of not following Mac’s orders, after all.

“You can barely climb out of this truck,” Alex said, being an ass.Hewas really good at assing. She still hadn’t forgiven him for not fixing things with Cara yet. “You are just so cute, our favorite little troll. But we all know you are a bit clumsy. If you fall and break yourself, we’ll have two of you to take care of. We’ll just prop you up next to Brandt. Like always.”

“Ha-ha.” But, well, the last thing she wanted to do was fall right now.

Mac lifted her down. Then he and Alex grabbed their bags. And they went inside. The plan was to check in and then get to the hospital to check on Brandt for themselves. Then Powell had been given strict orders to callhome.To report back. Her parents had been working a joint case. A big one. Neither could get away right now. The only way her mother had agreed not fly to Wyoming to get to her baby boy was if Mac and Alex and Powell went to him instead.

Not that Powell had exactly protested. Her twin was in trouble. Of course, she’d come running. It was just the way it was.

The bodyguard behind her—Keith, someone Houghton and Mac and Alex and her parents had all insisted on—trailed after them from an acceptable distance.

Keith didn’t talk much, but she’d seen humor in his eyes a time or two over the last few days. Mostly, when not watching her, he had out a small keyboard and was writing something on his phone. Or taking classes. He did both. Bodyguarding was the former marine’s way of paying his way through life while he was working toward his PhD.

In theological studies.

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