“Brienne offered to call her police contacts. Maybe we should take her up on it.”
Mila sighs. “I don’t know. They didn’t care before. Why would they now?”
I wasn’t confident they’d be able to help either, merely from the standpoint that it was nothing more than anonymous threats. I stand up, pacing toward the window. “Then I’ll hire a private investigator. Someone to look into all the guys—Peter, Jace, Ryan, Colton. Even McLendon.”
She blinks. “Penn… that’s expensive. You don’t have to—”
“I can afford it,” I cut in. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”
She watches me, eyes soft. “Then that could be good.”
Again, something seems off with her. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Something that could be helpful?”
Her expression turns completely blank. “No, of course not.”
But I’m not sure I believe it. I could press her on it, but if Mila is anything like me, trust is earned. And she doesn’t have a lot of reason to trust me based on my most recent refusal to help her.
“Okay. I’ll look into an investigator. In the meantime, you can’t go anywhere alone. We don’t know what or who is out there.”
“But… I can’t be a prisoner.”
“If you need to go somewhere, I’ll go with you.”
She blinks in surprise, and I can’t quite decipher the expression on her face.
“And by the way,” I add, “Brienne’s demanding you go to the game tomorrow. Sit in the owner’s box.”
Mila’s mouth parts. “What?”
“She wants you there. Said it’s not fair for you to be locked up like Rapunzel.”
I wait for her to push back. To argue.
Instead, she smiles softly. “I’ve never seen you play in person. At least, not since the Wraiths.”
That… hits differently than I expect.
“Well,” I say, grabbing my phone, “you’re about to.”
CHAPTER 9
Mila
I’m terrified ofdriving Penn’s Mercedes because it probably costs more than my entire college education. Penn tossed me the keys to his “less flashy” ride and told me to park in the secured player garage at the arena. This was a vast departure from his proclamation yesterday that I can’t go anywhere without him, but we came to an early impasse on how I’d get to the arena for tonight’s game.
Penn had to be there early, around three, and wanted me to come with him and wait in the friends and family lounge. I vetoed that plan immediately—too much downtime, and I have design work to finish. Not to mention… that’s not my place. My relationship with Penn is tenuous at best and I think he’s harboring irritation with me for imposing on him with my problems. I qualify as neither friend nor family, and I don’t want any part of that.
We eventually came to a compromise. I’d keep myself securely locked in his gated mansion until it was time to leave and then drive myself to the arena in his vehicle. He arranged for a Titans’ staff person to meet me in the garage and escort me to the owner’s box. Seemed easy enough. Still, my nerves are on edge as I pull into the private lot, give my name to security, and get waved through with surprising efficiency.
I barely get the massive Mercedes SUV parked when I see a woman walking toward me. She’s got a blond pixie cut and large framed glasses. I immediately recognize her as a Titans’ stafferby the black pants and purple long-sleeved shirt with the logo on the front pocket. That and her security badge.
“Hi, you must be Mila,” she says as I open the door and practically fall out as it sits so high off the ground. Her hand has mine and she’s pumping it for a shake. “I’m Jackie, one of the valets to the owner’s box. I’m going to take you up.”
“Hi,” I manage and then realize I have to climb back into the vehicle to get my purse. As soon as I’m situated with my bag slung over my shoulder, Jackie offers a friendly smile and gestures me forward. “Right this way. I’ll give you the quick tour on the way up.”
We pass through a set of heavy double doors into a wide corridor that smells faintly of ice and floor polish. Everything down here feels important—slick and clean, with steel trim and the Titans’ logo emblazoned on the walls.
“To your left is the players’ locker room,” she says, nodding toward a secured door. “No entry without credentials, obviously, but that’s where all the guys are pre-game. They’ll come out from here and head straight to the ice tunnel.”
