Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,85

our much younger sister. She'd been living with Mason for years now. She had a surprisingly happy home, even in spite of Mason, who until Cami, wouldn't know happiness if it bit him on the ass.

It was Cami who replied. "She's spending the night at a friend's place."

Mason said, "Good thing, too."

I didn't get it. "Why?"

Mason grimaced. "Because we need to talk."

Judging from his expression, the conversation wouldn't be a friendly one. With growing impatience, I said, "About what?"

In reply, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He tapped at the screen and then held it out in my direction with the screen facing me, not him.

What I saw in front of me didn't make me happy. "What's that?"

"A picture," he said, not looking any happier than I felt.

"I know it's a picture," I said. "But where'd you get it?"

The picture was of me and Mina, coming out of the barn at the Hazelton fairgrounds. Our clothes were disheveled, and so was our hair – Mina's in particular.

She looked like she'd just been ravaged, which in all fairness, she had. On the upside, she looked like she'd enjoyed it immensely.

Funny, me, too. But that was beside the point.

Mason said, "That picture? It was posted today on the National Dirt. And there's an article that goes with it."

As I stared at the image, Cami explained that one of her sisters had texted her the link while the four of them were at breakfast. Afterward, Mason had mentioned paying me a visit to discuss it, and the rest of them had decided to come along.

As Cami talked, I tried to think. The National Dirt – it was the same media operation where Angelique had claimed to be working. This could be no coincidence.

I set the takeout bag on the nearby counter and snatched the phone from Mason's hand. I gave the picture a long, silent look.

For me personally, I didn't give two shits what anyone thought. But I did care about Mina – and yeah, our company's reputation, assuming that was a factor.

I tapped at the screen until I found the story that accompanied the image. The article was short, only a few paragraphs long, but it was more than I wanted.

Along with the obvious innuendos, the story included Mina's full name along with a brief explanation that she was working with Blast Tools on a summer campaign blitz.

Her parents weren't mentioned by name, but the article made it clear enough that Mina was the daughter of a small-town farming family. Throughout the story, she was called a former beauty queen, even as the article made a point to mention that she'd been "only" runner-up, as if this mattered one bit.

When I finished reading, I scrolled back to the photo.

How in the hell had they gotten it?

I considered the possibilities. Maybe Ginger and Emory had snapped it from somewhere unseen, and then sold it to the highest bidder. Or maybe a professional photographer had been lying in wait.

Either way, this wasn't the kind of publicity I wanted. Not now. And not with Mina.

I shoved the phone back to Mason and said, "You need to leave."

He didn't budge. "Why?"

"Because I've got to call Mina."

"And tell her what?" Mason said. "The truth?"

I didn't have time for this. "And what truth is that?"

His mouth tightened. "You're using her."

I felt my fingers clench into fists. "The hell I am."

"Bull," he said. "I know what you're doing."

"And what's that?"

He gave me a knowing look. "You're pulling a Brody and Arden."

I shook my head. "I don't even know what that means."

"Sure you do," he said. "You're looking to drum up some positive publicity to offset the bad."

Positive? Not the way I saw it.

Up in the barn, we'd been careful, Mina in particular. Before leaving, we'd taken every precaution to make sure that no one would ever know what had happened up there in the loft.

We'd left no trace of our encounter – except apparently, the photo, taken by God-knows-who.

And now, Mason was calling it a stunt?

With a bitter scoff, I said, "So that's why you're here? To give me a hard time?"

Hey, what else was new?

Mason eyed me with obvious disgust. "She's a nice girl."

I felt like slugging him. "How would you know?"

"I did some research."

Of course he did.

His tone grew sarcastic. "And the public will love her, right?"

Hell, anyone would love her. Even me – if I were the type to fall in love, she'd almost surely be the one. But I refused