Page 112 of Freeing Lark

“Exactly. If we can get into their servers, all the better.”

Lark stared at them. “So you’re turning my sister’s engagement party into an undercover operation?”

Eggs shrugged. “Technically, your mother did that when she invited us.”

Lark couldn’t help laughing. Hoot reached for her hand beneath the table. “There’s one problem.”

She looked at him. “What?”

“If we’re going as a couple, we have to look convincing.”

Heat climbed into her cheeks. Eggs immediately started grinning. “Oh, I don’t think either one of you will have a problem with that.”

“Shut up, Eggs.”

“Just saying.”

Hoot ignored him and looked at Lark. “You okay with this?”

She thought about the people on the proverbial chessboard. The Meadows. Her mother’s demands. The Whitmores. Grant Calloway. The logo she’d seen on those crates. And now the possibility that people her family were connected to had possibly tried to kill her.

She squeezed Hoot’s hand. “Yes.”

His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “Then we’re going to a party.”

Lark smiled faintly. “Something tells me this isn’t going to be a very relaxing evening.”

Hoot’s mouth curved. “With your luck?” He shook his head. “Not a chance.”

Lark was still trying to process the fact that she was apparently attending an engagement party as Cormac’s girlfriend while taking a shower and finally getting ready for the day. Suddenly, the front door opened. She jumped upon hearing the stomping of boots on the floor below.

She ran down the stairs to find two men walking in as though they owned the place.

“It’s just us,” one of them called. That was apparently all the explanation required. Spark appeared first, followed by Jeeves, both carrying coffees and looking entirely too comfortable with their unauthorized entrance.

Lark looked at Cormac. “Do they always do that?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“They just... walk into your house?”

“Pretty much.”

She stared at him. “That seems like a security problem.”

“They’re worse than burglars.”

Spark stopped dead. His gaze had landed on the broken table. “Damn.”

Jeeves looked over his shoulder. “Oh, hell.”

Lark’s stomach dropped. The table that had been last night’s casualty still lay in a mess. They’d been far too distracted to worry about furniture, and they’d never gotten around to replacing it—or even moving the broken pieces out of the way.

Spark slowly turned toward Cormac, a knowing smirk on his face. “What happened here?”

“It’s a table,” Cormac said.

“A broken table,” Spark corrected.