Taken With Trouble (CAUGHT IN CHAOS #2)

16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Serena

Liam insisted I wear the blue dress so we could tour the Moore Estate. To be fair, he did figure out how to strap my gun to my thigh. I didn’t let him help, of course. I’m already feeling off-kilter after the dress store experience. Especially with the way Liam looked at me in the red dress with his wide eyes and parted lips. As if he were looking at a ghost.

As if he were looking at Scarlett. There’s a famous picture of her in a dress nearly identical to the one I was forced into. He was thinking of her. I could see it in his lost eyes.

I’m not a needy woman. I don’t have time for a relationship, nor do I want one with Liam. But like it or not, I have insecurities. My heart can’t handle being compared and judged against a woman who graced magazine covers. The woman his heart belonged to.

“Do I need to go over the plan again?” Liam asks, looking at me from the driver’s seat of his Lamborghini. When he pulled this out of a storage unit a couple blocks from his place, I nearly died. I never considered myself a car person… until I saw this work of art. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get in the driver’s seat for the last thirty minutes. “Do you need to practice pretending you are a tourist? ”

“You do remember I’m a federal agent and capable of espionage, right?”

“Capable?” He rolls the word over his lips. “Sure. Accomplished? Not so much. I’ve yet to be impressed.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

He laughs, which only adds to my irritation. “According to old journals I managed to find—”

“You mean the museum site you were able to hack?”

“Which impresses you more?”

“Honesty.”

“Then we’ll stick with the honest route. If the journals are real, there should be a hidden compartment somewhere on the estate. But on the estate website, nothing is mentioned, so either it doesn't exist, they don’t want the public to know, or it does exist but hasn’t been found.”

I roll my eyes. “There’s no way it hasn’t been found, if it exists.”

“Regardless, I should like to see for myself,” Liam says, pulling off the main road and down a private lane.

I sit back, my gaze drawn outside to the English summer. The sun is shining through the oak trees. Something glints in one of the trees, but we pass before I can make it out.

I study the next tree and see it again. “There are cameras along this whole property.”

“Don’t worry. They should have just gone down.” Liam smiles, clearly pleased with himself.

“So, no one will be trying to kill us here?” I brush the gun through the light fabric of my dress.

“Guaranteed. I uploaded some altered photos to one of my dummy accounts, showing me in Versailles.”

I don’t know how he does it. How is a man that good-looking so smart? Not that they can’t exist in the same human, but it irks me that he’s just… so good. At all of it. Why does he have to use it for selfish purposes?

We pull up in front of the estate. Only a few other cars are in the lot .

Despite myself, a little thrum of excitement buzzes along my skin. What if we do find a treasure? It’s ridiculous, I know, but the way Liam takes this so seriously has me yearning to believe it like he does.

There’s a little office inside the main entrance Liam enters. He purchases two tickets and asks the attendant questions he no doubt knows the answer to. The woman lights up as he flirts in his obnoxiously curious way.

“Collette and Finnick Moore built this place, correct?” Liam asks.

“Yes. Finnick was one of the kindest of his day.” The woman speaks as if she were alive at that time. “After his terrible son, Cillian, ran off, the parents decided to use their wealth to help others, and housed, fed, and taught more than a hundred parentless children who would have died on the streets.”

“And the son never returned?”

She tsks. “If he did, he was confined to the gardener’s house out back, so his ways would not rub off on the children.” She hands Liam a brochure with a map of the property.

“Thank you.” He nods to her then turns to me. “Shall we, my love?”

I plaster a phony smile on my face. “After you, Buttercup.”

He takes my hand, leading me straight out the back door. “I think you wanted me to go first, so you could enjoy the view of my backside, and I have to say, I do not mind being objectified by you.”

I ignore him, which is always the safest course of action when it comes to Liam Hawthorne.

Unsurprisingly, he goes straight to the garden house.

“Nothing is hidden there,” I say, adjusting the top of my stupid dress. I’m not comfortable without a bra. But the corseted top is surprisingly supportive. The dress is almost… almost pleasant. It’s light and airy, and I feel… pretty. It’s the shoes I take issue with. Flats that, should I need to run, will only impede me by causing me to slip or feel every rock underfoot.

I pat the side of my thigh to confirm my gun is still safely strapped there.

“There could be nothing here. Or… we might find a key to the treasure. Shall we place a wager on it?” Liam asks. “The first one to find the compartment?”

“No. ”

“Come on, Cruz, live a little.”

“Fine. If you win, I won’t try to murder you for the next two hours.”

“Twenty-four hours.”

“Four.”

“I’ll take it. If you win, I’ll allow you to have my cell phone for twenty minutes.”

“Wow, what a generous kidnapper you are.”

“Let’s make it fifteen for the attitude.” He bumps me with his hip, and despite myself, I have to bite down on my lip to keep from smiling.

Liam holds open the door. “After you, my lady.”

No one else is in the small cottage, most likely deeming it unnecessary to see the home of a criminal. Liam’s eyes narrow as he steps through the door, instantly transitioning into search mode. He’s so serious about this treasure hunt. I long to prove him wrong.

But what if he’s right?

I guess I’ll have to be the first to find this compartment.

I take the opposite end of the cottage; Liam doesn’t even look in my direction. He’s feeling around walls and bookcases. He’s basically frisking the entire house. I can do that.

The cottage has only two rooms outside the main kitchen and living area. I bypass the bathroom. Who would leave their treasure above the toilet?

The bedroom is sparse and carries a stale musty odor in the air. Like everything was cleaned when the estate became a museum, but never again. There’s hunting equipment on one wall and a closet with a pair of trousers and old button-up shirts with billowy sleeves. A tweed hat sits on the top shelf. I run my fingers over every inch of the closet. Nothing. I search the bed, then around the desk and nightstand. Nothing. I stand with a sigh and look out the window. The trees are in full bloom and beckon to me. I bypass my search of the house and wander out back toward them. After I’ve followed the line of trees for a moment, I realize I’ve gone in a circle.

That’s weird. From the bedroom they looked like a straight line .

I walk inside the room and look out the window. The window is separated into six panes, each extremely warped, but… I step closer. The top right pane I looked through the first time is so curved it shows the tree line going straight. But it’s the only one. I press on the glass, but it doesn’t give. It’s not loose; there are no crevices along the rim.

I retreat to the bed and look at all the windows again, studying the tree line in both forms until I find the spot where they connect. At a single large oak tree with deadened branches near the bottom.

I rush outside and follow the curve until I hit the tree then look back at the cottage. The main house and the cottage are both blocked from sight from where I’m standing.

The perfect hiding place… but also close enough to keep an eye on.

I walk around the large trunk. There’s a small black knot halfway up the trunk about two feet out of my reach. I grab onto the branches and haul myself up, scraping my arms and dress on the rough bark.

I get a foothold on a sturdy branch and reach above me. A breeze whips the back of my dress into the air, and I gasp, dropping my hand to my backside. Stupid dresses. Such an inconvenience. When my dress is under control, I reach again, but I can’t tell if I’m feeling anything. I need to get higher. I steady my opposite foot on that branch and twist to get a better angle. A twig scrapes my face, but I go onto my toes, stretching, anticipation buzzing on my skin.

I get a look into the crevice, and… my stomach flips. There’s something shiny. I reach for it… just as the branch beneath my feet snaps.