Page 21 of Unbound

I really do. I haven’t exactly been straightforward with these people. And I’ll probably try to continue not being straightforward with them in any way I possibly can. Because at the end of the day, they may not trust me, but I’m also not sure I trust them. Especially after Walker’s confession about strange things happening at McKinley. No one said shit about that last night. They were totally fine letting me think I was for sure the reason everyone got shot at.

Turning away, I pad across the floor in my socks, feet slipping a little on Trevor’s gorgeously expensive wood floors as I round the corner and head for the great room. It’s the space everyone fits in the easiest, so it makes the most sense that’s where we’d be.

But before I can get too far, Walker loops an arm around my waist, swinging me back toward the front of the house. “We’re going to Trevor’s office.”

I tip my head up so I can look him in the eye, lifting my brows. “Are you sure you want me in his office? I might try to sneak through his drawers.”

Walker huffs out a sound I’m starting to think is his version of a chuckle. “Not with all of us standing there watching you.”

“You obviously don’t know me very well.” I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed with uncovering the truth about what happened to my dad. I just find it hard to focus on anything besides that. Especially now that I’m finally getting somewhere. Developing hypotheses. Some I hope might be accurate. And a couple I’m worried could be true.

“As long as you can’t find the matches, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Walker uses his hold to angle me through a set of French doors and into the most obnoxiously ostentatious office I’ve ever seen. Trevor’s house is… Really something.

I probably should have taken his fancy suits and perfectly groomed hair and nails as a clue and assumed his home would be just as over-the-top. And I guess on some level I did. It’s just not over-the-top in the way I expected. It is fancy, yes, but it’s also an eclectic mixture of styles I wouldn’t have thought to put together on my own.

Probably because I don’t give a shit about the way my house looks. As long as it’s comfy, cozy, and smells good, I don’t care about the aesthetic appeal.

Trevor obviously does though, so I decide to build a little goodwill, giving him a smile as I take in the space. “This room is stunning.” I don’t say in what way it stunned me, deciding to let him take it however he wants.

Trevor’s seated on a settee, his injured leg propped up. Maren is fussing with the pillow beneath it and the ice pack settled beside it. They both turn as I speak, looking me up and down like they’re sizing me up. It’s a marked difference from the first time we met. At least from Trevor. I don’t think Maren has ever been my biggest fan. During my interview, she glared at me so hard I was a little worried I wasn’t going to get hired in spite of my impeccably crafted resume.

Back then, I’m pretty sure her dislike was related to a misguided assumption I had any interest in her fancy-pants boyfriend—which is laughable—but now I would say her dislike is probably a little more justified.

Especially if it turns out I’m the reason her fancy-pants boyfriend has a hole in his leg.

“Thanks.” Trevor’s tone is flat as he jerks his chin toward the large desk situated at one end of the large room. “Titus has you set up over there.”

So he does. My laptop is already perched on the surface, screen lifted and plugged in so there’s no chance I’ll run out of battery life anytime soon.

“Awesome.” Technically, this could probably be for the greater good. It’s possible whatever the Bradshaws are going through is connected to the shit that’s happened to me. So maybe we are actually on the same team. Unfortunately, I’m not sure Walker’s going to feel comfortable being on my team once this day is over.

Every step as I walk toward the desk is almost impossible to take, but there’s no way I can run. Someone would catch me. Probably Walker, and that makes me consider taking off just for fun. Getting in one last hurrah before he’s totally creeped out by me.

But when I turn to look over one shoulder, Tucker’s the one blocking my escape. Bummer.

I have no choice but to round the glossy piece of furniture that will be the scene of my humiliation, lower my ass into the chair, and press my finger to the pad. Once it’s scanned my print, I type in my security code, cringing as I tap the enter key.

Walker and Titus are standing at either side of me, and I stare straight ahead as my screen flares to life, revealing the first of what will be many uncomfortable revelations.

The room is silent for a very long time. I know damn well both Titus and Walker are looking at the image serving as my background, but neither one of them seems eager to voice their thoughts on its subject.

The tension in the room is so thick, I’m shocked Tucker is able to move through it as he gives up on waiting for someone to explain and rounds the desk to stand next to Titus. He peers over my shoulder, clicking his tongue. “Didn’t know you had such a good set of abs, Walker.”

I can feel when Walker’s eyes leave the screen and come to rest on me. The weight of his stare rests heavy on my shoulders, but I can’t make myself turn to look at him. I can, however, run my mouth.

“This isn’t what it looks like.” I wave one hand in the general direction of the photo I may have swiped from Deidre’s private Instagram account. “I’m not stalking him or anything.” This situation definitely does not meet that legal criteria. “I just…” Fishing around my brain, I can’t come up with anything better than the truth, so I straighten my spine and spill one of my secrets. “I just think he’s hot.”

Hot does not begin to describe Walker McKinley, but I can’t imagine his cousins are interested in me listing all the ways Walker inspires lustful thoughts.

Again, the room goes silent.

And again, Tucker is the one to break it.

He leans closer, resting one hand on the desk beside me as he looks from the computer to the eerily quiet man on my other side. “I mean, she’s not wrong.”

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