Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

“About what?” she teased.

“The color of your panties.”

“Who says I’m wearing panties?”

He groaned. “That’s not specific enough.” His fingers threaded through hers. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” she giggled. “I have to say goodbye to my sisters.”

She was careful not to step on the hem of her ice-blue dress, as she made her way over to Bobbi and Billie. The two girls were on the far side of the dance area, near the bar and a few dozen folks gathered around. The band still played, but the crowd was starting to thin. There would definitely be a few tired and hungover souls in church tomorrow.

Billie was still in her antique cream wedding dress, her long hair falling from the loose knot at her nape, and Bobbi was wearing the same dress as Betty.

A bridesmaid’s dress.

“Where’s Logan?” Betty asked.

“He went in to check on Abel and said he needed Shane along for the ride.”

Bobbi snorted. “They don’t fool me. I know they’re probably on the front porch smoking those stinky cigars Logan’s been stockpiling.”

“Stockpiling?” Billie said. “Shane is the one who bought them.”

“Whatever,” Bobbi muttered. “They stink.”

“Well, we’re going to head out,” Betty said.

For a moment, the three girls stared at each other in silence and then Billie moved forward and wrapped Betty in a fierce hug. “Thank you for being a part of my day.”

Betty nodded but couldn’t say a word on account of the huge lump in her throat. She wasn’t much for public displays and was aware that more than a few pairs of eyes were on them.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Bobbi said, incredulously.

The look in her sister’s eyes was enough to make her stomach contract hard, and Betty knew exactly who it was before she even turned around.

“I’m getting Shane and Logan. I want him out of here,” Billie said fiercely.

Mick Valenti stood in the shadows near the pergola out back, dressed casually and chatting with a few guys from town. They were late arrivals, but Mick wasn’t invited and had obviously crashed.

Betty’s chest tightened and that cold, hard feeling she’d buried weeks ago was back with a vengeance.

Mick glanced over, raised his beer as if in a toast, and took a good long drink, his eyes never leaving her. It was a big, fat fuck you and it made Betty sick.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Beau said fiercely.

She wasn’t paying attention or she might have said something, because Beau’s voice had gone cold. It had gone cold and lethal.

“Mick,” she said softly. “I…let’s just leave.”

But Beau was striding across the dance floor, shoving people out of his way and not caring that he nearly trampled an older gentleman who’d had too much to drink and was having a hard time staying on his feet.

He didn’t stop until his fist smashed into Mick’s face and he sent the man tumbling to the ground.

“Oh, God,” Betty said as she started forward, Bobbi on her heels.

Her heart was in her throat and at first, she had a difficult time breaking through the crowd that had gathered.

“Beau,” she screamed. Her voice was the trigger and the crowd parted like the red sea.