Savage Queen (The Dark Elite #3) - Eva Ashwood Page 0,38

normal person was one of the last times you were with your fiancé who later tried to murder you, it’s hard to remember what normal looks like.

I suppose this is regular for the twins, however, so it’ll have to become regular for me too.

Eventually.

I have a small glimmer of hope that I’ll get there one day, but I have a feeling it won’t be until this shit with my mother is all sorted out. And I’m honestly not sure how long that’s going to take—or if any of us will still be alive at the end.

A few people glance our way as we make our way down the aisles, although no one seems overtly suspicious or afraid of us. In fact, one woman who passes by openly gawks at the twins, smiling a little when she catches Lucas’s gaze. When it becomes clear that they’re with me and very interested in just me, she turns out of the aisle with a slightly wistful look on her face.

Lucas and Zaid take their roles as head chefs of our little household very seriously, and if their cooking wasn’t proof enough that they know what they’re doing in the kitchen, this list would be. It’s organized by flow and section of the grocery store, which items come first on the aisles, top to bottom. It’s insane.

“I never knew you were so type A,” I joke, elbowing Zaid in the side.

He chuckles. “Only when it comes to food.”

“That’s a lie,” Lucas puts in. “You should see his closet. It’s the most organized fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You should talk, Mister Organizes-His-Ties-by-Length-and-Color.”

Lucas punches his brother lightly on the arm as they trade verbal jabs back and forth. It kind of cracks me up, honestly. They’re both so laid-back in some ways, but obviously not in all ways.

I chuckle, glancing down at the list of things we still need to get. “I’ll go get the pasta. I think I can handle that.”

Leaving the cart with them, I duck down a separate aisle in search of angel hair pasta. My gaze scans the shelves, looking for the particular brand they want, and I’m not watching where I’m going—until I run smack into a solid form.

“Oh my God, I’m so—”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.”

The man I bumped into is an older guy with a dark complexion and salt-and-pepper hair. He grasps my upper arms to steady me. Then, so quickly and smoothly I don’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s done, he slides one hand down and presses something into my palm.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving me an affable smile before stepping around me and continuing down the aisle.

Heart racing, my hand clenches around the small object he just placed in it. It’s a piece of paper, and my mind immediately jumps to the last note I received.

Is he working for Camilla?

My stomach seems to drop into my shoes, dread pumping through my veins. But when I open the crumpled paper with shaking hands, I realize it’s not on the same expensive card stock as Camilla’s message. The handwriting isn’t her flowing script. Instead, it’s a hastily scribbled message on a piece of paper that looks like it was torn out of a small notebook.

FBI. I can help you. I know you’ve been taken prisoner.

14

Grace

I stare down at the note in shock.

FBI?

Shit.

I didn’t realize things were this big. The FBI got involved in the search for me? Brian was just in the city police force, but somehow I’m certain he wasn’t sharing tips about my location with the FBI. Not if he was working with Leland and Camilla on the side.

So how does this agent know who I am? How did he find out I’m in Chicago?

My first impulse as the shock fades is to go find Zaid and Lucas, to grab them both and get the fuck out of here.

But what if there are other FBI agents in the store? If we run, would there be a shootout? Each of the twins would die trying to protect me, I have no doubt about that. They wouldn’t let the FBI drag me away.

My heart crawls into my throat at the thought, and I shove down my rising panic. Zaid and Lucas are both trained mafia warriors. I can’t fucking risk them putting their lives in danger to protect me, not if there’s any other way of eliminating the threat.

I have to go talk to that man. Explain to him that I don’t need rescuing. Find out