Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,30

have to be with us to help us. You’ve done a huge thing already. You remembered the guy’s face! Now Dex and I can work on hacking the security feed in London, and—”

“Oh, so I’m not invited to London now?” Keefe asked, lunging to steal back his notebook—but Sophie was faster.

She tucked the silver book into the inner pocket of her cape. “No, you’ll be staying here doing something way more important.”

“If you say research—”

“Nope. You’ll be adding to these.” She put the brown, gold, and green notebooks into his lap. “This was a good plan, Keefe. I mean… I wish you’d lay off the fathomlethes. But cataloging your memories already worked, so keep at it! Plus, you’re making some seriously gorgeous art.”

“Oh sure, now you want me drawing until my hands cramp! What happened to the whole ‘I could’ve helped you project your memories’ thing, with the sad eyes and the ‘Why don’t you trust me?’ I guess you’re fine with me working alone now that you found a reason to ditch me?”

“The boy does make a valid point,” Ro noted.

“I’m not ditching you.”

“Good! Because, to quote Gigantor”—Keefe shifted his voice into an uncanny impersonation of Sandor’s squeaky tone—“I go where you go.”

“I don’t sound like that,” Sandor huffed.

Ro snickered. “You totally do.”

Sophie sighed. “I’m not trying to ditch you, Keefe.”

“Awesome, because there’s no way you’re investigating my past without me.”

“It won’t be without you. You’ll be working harder than any of us. Kinda like how Dex works on his own when he’s doing his Technopath thing—”

“Yeah, because Dex never feels left out.”

“Okay, but Dex is… sensitive.”

“You were going to say ‘pouty,’ weren’t you?” Ro asked.

“Hey, don’t dis the Dexinator!” Keefe told her. “He’s my hero. Master elixir maker, ultimate gadget manipulator, and he scored a Foster kiss before Fitzy.”

Ro’s eyes widened. “He did?”

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Sophie mumbled. “It was… never mind—stop trying to distract me, Keefe! Working alone doesn’t make what you’re doing any less important. And I’ll keep you updated on everything. I’ll check in as many times as you want me to, answer all your questions—I’ll even project everything I learn into a memory log so you can see it all for yourself. It’ll be exactly like you were there, only better because you’ll be safe.”

Keefe whistled. “Wow, you say that like you honestly expect me to go along with this plan. It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Oh, I know you,” Sophie said through a sigh. “I’ll just never stop hoping you’ll decide to play things smart for once.”

“See, but ‘smart’ really isn’t my brand. I’m more ‘reckless dream guy without a care’! It’s part of my whole ‘bad boy’ image.” He tossed his hair. “And don’t think I won’t tackle you to get my silver notebook back—I will.”

“Okay,” Ro jumped in, before Sophie could respond. “Fun as it is to watch you two try to make each other’s heads explode, I had big plans for napping before some serious pranking this evening. So how about I settle this for you guys and you let me get my beauty rest?”

“If you’re still on the ‘lock me up’ plan, that’s never gonna happen,” Keefe warned.

Ro sauntered closer and pinched both of his cheeks. “You’re so cute when you think you’re being all tough and rebellious. But let’s get real for a second, shall we? You get away with the things I let you get away with, because I don’t care enough to fight you on them. And ignoring solid intel that someone’s threatened to murder my charge? That’s a big bodyguarding no-no. I may not care that much about what happens to you, but if you get yourself killed on my watch, it makes me look bad—especially if I had advance notice. So, I can’t have that. Plus, I can also demand something fun from your little girlie while I’m at it!”

“Wait—what?” Sophie asked.

“Uh, yeah, my help doesn’t come for free. I can take care of your Hunkyhair problem. But it’ll cost you.”

“If you’re about to propose one of your ridiculous bets—” Sandor cut in.

“Not a bet,” Ro assured him. “I’m talking about a straight bargain. Miss F gives me something, and I give her an obedient Keefster.”

Keefe snort-laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“See, but I don’t need luck. Because you still owe me a dare.”

The color drained from Keefe’s face.

“Thaaaaaaaaaaaat’s right, Hunkyhair! You lost our last bet—and what were the terms again? Oh, that’s right! If I won, I get to dare you