Page 169 of The Right Sign

“Why not? Who are they?”

“Your security team.”

Tiny, spiky flares of surprise mixed with frustration erupt all over my body.

“Mr. Sullivan arranged it yesterday.”

“He hired bodyguards and didn’t tell me?”

“He felt that you might react… negatively.” José gives me alike you’re doing right nowlook.“Their instructions were to remain out of sight, but if you’d like I can arrange a meeting.”

I fling myself back into my seat. This might be for the greater good. If I’m walking into a trap and Talia really is in danger, it would be best to have back up.

José continues driving and I expect us to head into a seedy area with lots of abandoned warehouses and bars but, instead, we arrive at an arcade. The parking lot is so crowded we drive around twice before we can find a spot.

“This is the place?” I sign when José parks and turns to face me.

He nods.

Hesitantly, I scoot out of the car and walk into the crowded, bustling arcade. It’s so noisy and shrieky in here that I have to yank out my hearing aids.

With all the chaos, I assume it will be difficult to find Talia.

I’m wrong.

The little girl is sitting poised on top of an empty merry-go-round. Three burly security guards are standing in front of the attraction, gaining both curious and frightened gazes from parents and kids.

Talia spots me and her little chin lifts higher. She beckons me to approach her stage, a queen atop her ceramic, slightly creepy steed.

I blink rapidly and inch my purse strap higher on my shoulder.

What in Chanel…

Security lets me through, and I recognize the burliest guy among them. Dare’s personal guard. He must have left his most trusted to escort Talia to the airport.

Speaking of… why are they here and not on a plane?

The metal floor of the merry-go-round feels hollow and I grip the railing to keep my balance. It’s been ages since I’ve been on one of these things.

I wave to Talia. She voices something, but she’s too far away for me to eventryand lipread. Her little hands gesture to the pony parallel to hers.

Oh? She wants… she wants us to talkhere?

I glance at the crowd that’s watching us like animals at the zoo. I don’t mind being the center of attention. It’s why I love modeling, but this is not a catwalk, nor am I trying to show off a cute outfit.

There’s a right time and place.

This seems like neither.

Talia seems unbothered, so I humor her. Thankfully, my yoga pants are comfy so it’s not difficult to throw my legs over the horse and mount it. The ceramic pony is smooth beneath my hands, but I feel ten times more ridiculous up here than when I was just standing on the platform.

Talia speaks again and I lift a hand to stop her. Pulling my phone out of my purse, I type in my note app.

Let’s talk like this.

Her cute nose scrunches when she reads my message. I see the struggle behind her blue eyes. The flare of annoyance. The disgruntlement. Adults, on a whole, are much better at accommodating differences than kids are. Or perhaps they’re more polite about it. Either way, Talia doesn’t hide her expressions.

Finally, she picks up her phone and spends a long time typing.

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