Page 91 of The Stalker Snafu

“I’m speaking broadly, Rafe,” Adrian said with a roll of his eyes, brushing off his twin’s glare. “And we agreed on this yesterday. She should know this stuff.”

“I sure as hell didn’t agree,” Rafe shot back as he stood and pointed at me like I was a misbehaving toddler. “What if she goes running to the FBI? We can handle ourselves, but involving her is just asking for unnecessary risk.”

I was having trouble keeping up, but Adrian met Rafe’s glare with a narrowed look of his own. “Then we’ll deal with it, but keeping her in the dark won’t help any of us.”

Rafe glowered at him, the fury in his gaze raising the fine hairs on the back of my neck. “Well, I won’t be a part of it.”

He didn’t wait for a response, and his footsteps were the only sound as we watched him storm out of the duplex, but Finn ran to the door and yelled after him. “Don’t forget you’re on lunch duty, Rafe!”

A car door slammed in answer.

“I think someone else will need to make the lunch run today,” Adrian commented lightly.

At the word “lunch,” my stomach growled with the force of a grizzly bear—drawing every gaze in the room while I covered it with my arms.

“Ignore it.” I shrugged, tightening my grip on my stomach and kicking myself for not eating at least three of Adrian’s pastries earlier.

Oliver stood and stretched. “I’ll go pick up some food. Julian, are you heading back to the clinic now or later?”

“I’ll stick around for lunch.” Julian winced. “Whatever you’re getting will beat what’s at the clinic.”

Oliver nodded before heading out the door, and I moved to sit with my legs crossed on the couch.

Finn came back and sprawled out next to me. I chewed my lip in thought, but I couldn’t resist a quiet comment to him. “Is Rafe the youngest of the group? He sure acts like it.”

Finn grinned widely. “Bishop’s the youngest, Cupcake. Rian and Rafe are three years older than me.”

My eyes widened, and I sat up straight as my arms fell to my sides. “What? How old are you?”

He doubled over with laughter, catching everyone’s attention. It took far too long for him to recover, wiping at his eyes before sending me a roguish grin. “I told you I’m nineteen. So, no worries, I’m legal.”

“That wasn’t why I asked,” I grumbled, crossing my arms again. “But Rafe being twenty-two won’t stop me from thinking he acts like he’s twelve.”

Finn’s smile turned crooked. “You aren’t the only one.”

Julian took Rafe’s spot in the armchair and pushed it back to balance on two legs. I would’ve tipped over in a second if I tried that, but he made it look effortless. He sighed and twisted his lips before addressing me. “I’m sorry, but I think Rafe might have a point. We shouldn’t say more yet.”

I looked to Adrian, who’d spoken in favor of me knowing, but he was absorbed in his phone.

“Can you at least tell me how Noah got involved with a cartel?” I asked. “And what that cartel was doing at Oliver’s party?”

“Florez has a high appreciation for the arts,” Julian answered, confirming what Oliver had said earlier. “He likes to think of himself as a patron of sorts, and he mingles with other wealthy backers. Kincaid met him at one of Oliver’s concerts.”

I tried to picture Noah getting friendly with such a man. Cartels were notorious for their violence and ruthlessness, and I couldn’t reconcile that image with my boyfriend. Noah was the guy who surprised me with cheesecake and kissed the burn scar on my back and treated me like I was precious.

I frowned. “So, Noah met Florez at a concert, then they became instant friends or something?”

Julian let the chair legs drop back to the floor, and his gaze didn’t completely meet mine when he answered. “You should save that question for Kincaid.”

I shook my head. My brain was a mixture of half-formed thoughts, some assumptions, and many doubts. If Noah had lied to me for months, was I really supposed to believe a group of guys who swooped in with all these half answers?

I faced Julian, making peace with the fact there was only one way forward that I was comfortable with. “Let me ask him, then.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? We’re no⁠—”

“Contact, I know.” I wet my lips and held my chin higher. “But if all this is true and you really think I’m not safe at my dorm, then I need to talk to Noah. Please let me see him.”

And I wasn’t taking no for an answer this time.