Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“Hi, I’d like to place an order for delivery.” Phone to my ear, I’m in the kitchen. I open the high-tech fridge to make sure we have something to drink. More Sanpellegrino. Liter of Fizz Life, since we were all curious what the new aspartame-free soda from Fizzle tasted like. Not bad.
And it’s still about half full. Good enough. I order a few large pies. Just in case her brothers haven’t eaten tonight.
Oliver counts his macros religiously, so I’m unsure if he’ll eat a slice. I get him meatballs and grilled chicken as extra protein.
What I don’t expect is for Trevor to show up.
He has on dark shades and a slim suit. His expression is void. Flat. Emotionless. Can’t read him that well right now.
He bypasses me.
The kitchen is open to the wood-paneled living room. Sliding glass doors overlook a dark, rippling sea, a crescent moon in the star-speckled sky, and he’s staring into the night.
I stride over to him. The sailboat I’m demoing is secured to the dock and sways lightly with the nighttime breeze. I see no other movement.
Still, I fling the curtains closed.
Anyone from the water can see inside the boathouse at this hour, and once Phoebe exits the bathroom—no one needs to spot me with her.
“What’s going on?” I ask him, slipping my phone in my back pocket.
“Just contemplating.” He’s quiet.
“About?”
Trevor breaks out of his thoughts to slip me a paper. The Victoria Weekly. “Nova texted and said to be here. He wants us all to go over the plan again.”
I can’t say it’s a bad idea. I flip open the Weekly. Trevor peers over at the popular gossip column.
SIDNEY SAYS
Collin Falcone broke his leg at a Caufield kegger doing a backflip. (Go Sea Serpents!)
Rowing coach Giddeon Rosenbaum proposed to long-term girlfriend Chelsea Noknoi after a romantic date at The Lure.
Watersmith was spotted holding hands in the parking lot of the country club. Trusted sources say they looked more smitten than ever.
The Fortunate Four attended another party on the Konings’ superyacht. Invited were the who’s who of Victoria. (Including yours truly.)
More disturbing stories of TK Waterford’s rakish behavior have been brought to the Weekly’s attention. He’s widely known to be gregarious, but perhaps his charm is more sleaze than sweet.
I reread the part about TK. “Why didn’t Sidney specifically spell out what Trent did?” I ask my brother.
“Claudia threatened her. She already tried to pay off the de la Vegas, so they’d remove Sidney’s column. They weren’t swayed, so Claudia went to Sidney. And she said if she wrote anything defaming about her son, she’d sue her, or do worse.” Trevor carries anger in the pits of his eyes, but I can’t see behind his sunglasses. I just hear the ire building in his voice. “Sidney is scared.”
“Claudia reacting poorly over a gossip column is good for us. And if she’s rude to Sidney, Victoria’s Sweetheart, then locals will start turning on Claudia. Especially if she takes away their entertainment.” I hold up the paper.
Trevor nods with more understanding. “Yeah, I get it.”
I glance at the column again. “Trusted sources say Jake and Phoebe look smitten?” Also good for us. “Who was that source?” I raise my brows at him and push the paper into his chest. “You?”
His lip tics up in a slanted smile, and he grabs hold of the Weekly. “I told her they looked ready to get hitched and have a kid. She went with smitten.”
I put a hand to his head, shoving him lovingly. “You did good, Trev.”
He seems to be out of his funk. A grin spreads across his face. “Thanks, Rock.”
Our attention swerves the second Nova blows into the boathouse like a powerful wind. He throws a duffel bag on the round glass six-seater table. The Edison-bulb pendant light rattles at the force.
Looks like we’re not eating at the fucking table.
Nova unzips the duffel. Full of guns and ammo.
He racks a shotgun.
“Way to make an entrance, Winchester,” I say.
“Is that you being nice or a dick?”
I come over. “You didn’t hear the fuck you in my tone?” I check the mag on a Glock.
Nova has a shadow of a smile that disappears when he sees Trevor’s cringe. “You might not like guns, Trev, but the girls were being cased. And we still don’t know why Varrick is interested in them.”
“This seems like overkill,” Trevor says, as though Nova is bringing a sledgehammer to a pool party.
“Where there’s rain, there’s a hurricane,” Nova says.
“Not true, but okay,” Trevor says tensely. He backs away from the duffel.
His hatred of guns stems from being shot in the foot. He was friends with this rich kid in Dallas whose father had a collection of prized hunting guns. They were more for display. His friend fucked around with one and accidentally pulled the trigger.
Oliver and Hailey arrive next.