Page 90 of Things I Read About
The complexity of this case is that there are five sisters. While they’re all part of one family and, of course, Canton International, they each have very different lives. The personal network of each sister is unique and wide.
We’ve been focusing primarily on Sadie, as she’s the most famous. Susan is the next logical target, since she’s one of the public faces of the family brand.
But the other day, drones flew over this property.
I had a gut feeling.
Dean said it could be a couple farm boys with new toys, since they were generic little GoPro jobs, nothing fancy. Nowhere near military grade, but it felt off to me and I couldn’t keep an eye on them as they zoomed over the land. This place is just too big. And cloudless. Which is just creepy.
Thin fingers wrap around my forearm causing goosebumps to pebble my skin.
I take out an earbud.
“What are you listening to?”
“Sci-fi.”
She tilts her head, exposing more of her smooth neck. “What’s it about?”
“Aliens and shit,” I say, looking away.
I can hear the grin in her voice. “Are there big blue guys who fall in love with human women?”
I almost laugh. “Is smut all you read?”
“It’s not smut, it’s romance.” She looks away from me this time.
“That’s it, just romance?” I find myself asking.
“Or textbooks. If it’s fiction, why would I bother with a story with no romance?”
“You mean no smut,” I say, mad at myself. But I’ve read her favorite mafia books. Had to take a cold shower afterward, like a frickin' teenager.
“No, I mean swoony, angsty romance. That and sex are not the same thing, and if you don’t realize that, it says a lot aboutyou, not my books.” She huffs but she’s as red as a tomato.
I don’t respond, enjoying how she squirms in her seat. Plus, I feel a startling urge to spout off just how well I knowher, her books, and what would have her swooning as well as screaming. If she wasn’t a lying, spoiled princess, that is.
She looks around. “Wait, where are we going?”
“To the next circle of this hell,” I mutter, taking the long way around to the stables.
She leans forward, furrowing her brow in a way that would be adorable if she wasn’t a borderline con artist.
“Shep asked me to take the horses out once a week.” I explain. “Keeps one more person off the property.”
Her mouth falls open. Again, not adorable.
“You know how to ride a horse?”
I huff. “Rich kids love their horses.”
She slumps back in her seat and looks away.
I almost feel bad. I actually learned to ride overseas, but what I said is true. Wealthy people do have a thing for horses, so riding often comes into play with my job. I’ll bet anything she knows how to ride.
“Doyouknow how to ride?”
She flinches. “I was forced to take a few lessons as a kid.”
