Fidelity (Infidelity #5)

The closer I got to my destination, the thicker the fog became. All I could make out was a lake to my side and the manor looming overhead. The condensation continued to distort my vision. I imagined Charli running toward me as Chelsea had. I longed to call out to her, but feared alerting more of the Montague security.

The invasion I planned was solo. Though Isaac had wanted to come along, I’d refused. If this were to fail, I was the one who’d breached the property. I sent him back to the car with Chelsea. If all went as I wanted, I’d call for him to come and pick us up. My Charli didn’t deserve to be sneaking off her own property.

When I’d first seen Chelsea, I was too shocked to look at her, really look at her. But as Isaac reached for her, telling me to let her go, I saw what Charli had told me, what Deloris had discussed. I saw Chelsea’s bruised cheek. Granted in the dim light, I hadn’t seen it as well as I could, but I knew that everyone had been right. Edward Spencer had done that to her.

Though I’d released some fury on the security guy who’d tried to stop me, I had plenty pent up for the asshole up at the manor. He deserved to get some of, if not more than, what he’d given.

Step by step, I moved closer to my goal. My ears were tuned to the world around me. For a city boy, I had a sense of nature. As long as the frogs and crickets made noise, the coast was clear. It was when they stilled that I did too. It was part of how I sensed Stan.

Now that our encounter was past tense, I was relieved I hadn’t found a gun. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have stopped my determination. I told myself to proceed with caution. Just because Stan had no weapon didn’t mean that all of Montague security went unarmed.

The crickets stilled as voices began to register. I stepped in the shadow of the tree line and moved slowly toward the light. No longer was the path hard-packed dirt. It had morphed into a thick, lush lawn beneath my shoes. The moist grass muffled my steps as I progressed slowly forward.

In the near distance were people, many people, all dressed in their finest. They were clustered in groups, their voices hushed yet anxious.

It was then I heard someone coming from behind. Spinning, I saw his jacket, the same as the one I now wore.

“What the hell—”

Crack!

I shook out my right hand as another guard hit the ground. This one at least had cushy grass, which was more than my friend Stan had. I knelt beside his wilted body, making sure that he too was unconscious. He was, but fuck. I didn’t have time to keep tying them up. And lucky for him, I’d missed his nose. I grabbed him under his arms and dragged him back into the trees. Same routine, phone and wallet. I plucked the Bluetooth from his ear and found the transmitter. The lake I’d noticed earlier was only a few yards away. Casually, I dropped the transmitter and phone into the water, the ripples fading into the mist as they sunk to the depths.

The house—fucking mansion—was huge. For a brief moment I recalled my earlier assumptions about Charli. How could I have been so wrong? Looking up at this place, my dad’s assessment had been right. It was a palace and Charli was American royalty. In this world of old money, her blood was blue.

I pushed those thoughts away, not giving a damn about her heritage. All that mattered, more than the air needed to fill my lungs, was that she was safe and in my arms. We’d work out the rest as long as we were together.

The guests were gathered in clusters on the upper patio and the lawn below. Their sheer numbers created a rumble while the blue flashes I’d noticed earlier illuminated the thick air. Barely audible above the din of collective murmurs was the whirl of propellers. It wasn’t loud enough to be helicopters. No, weaving in and out of the fog were drones, filming, recording whatever was happening.

Some of the guests pointed to the sky while others seemed unaware. Mindful to stay out of not only the people’s sight but also the drones’ cameras, I moved quietly, making my way away from the crowd and around the far end of the mansion. With each step toward the front, the flashing lights grew brighter, saturating the fog with an omnipresent blue. Peering around the final corner toward the front driveway, I saw them: one, two… I continued to count. There were seven police cars with their lights flashing in front of the mansion.

My heart raced as I contemplated various reasons for their presence.

Was Charli all right? Did this have to do with Adelaide? Had Magnolia Woods tipped off Mr. Fitzgerald?

Taking a step back into the shadows, I removed my phone from my pants pocket. I’d had it on silent.

I swiped the screen.

The red number alerted me of my numerous text messages.



First message from Oren: “WE’RE TAKING OFF NOW. SHE’S STILL UNCONSCIOUS. LET ME KNOW ABOUT ALEX.”



Text message from Isaac: “CHELSEA SAID IF ALEX HASN’T LEFT, SHE IS STILL ON THE MAIN LEVEL. CHELSEA IS SCARED BUT SAFE.”



Text message from Patrick: “FUCK. SOMETHING HAPPENED. ARE YOU SURE YOU GOT AUNT ADELAIDE? ALTON JUST TOOK ALEX AND SPENCE TO HIS OFFICE. FIRST FLOOR, EAST WING. SHE’D BEEN JUST ABOUT TO LEAVE.”



I held my breath as I scrolled.