Page 108 of Protecting Love

“Paris,” London said under her breath. “Don’t open that here.”

She held it by the corner now. Not sure why she didn’t think before she picked it up. But the woman in front of her at the desk had touched it. And the person who delivered it.

“Let’s take it upstairs,” London said evenly.

That was her sister. The protector. The shield.

The one who would take a bullet while Paris calmly tried to talk someone down.

But the dread had already settled.

She nodded her head, they turned and went to the elevator, the paper in her hand shaking as she tried to steady her nerves.

London went to snatch it away, but Paris held it back. “No,” she hissed. “No one else should touch it.”

“It’s probably junk. You’re reading too much into this.”

Her sister was most likely right.

She wanted her sister to be right.

The minute they opened the door to their apartment, she put her stuff on the kitchen island, didn’t remove her jacket, didn’t kick off her shoes.

Didn’t do anything other than slide her finger under the sealed triangle and run it across.

The single sheet of paper came out. She held it by the very edge and it opened from where it was folded over.

Keep looking.

“What the hell?” she said. “First they said to stop and now they want me to continue. This is like a mind fuck.”

“At least it’s not a threat,” London said. “But you should still call Fletcher.”

She laid the sheet down, pulled out her phone, found his name, hit the button.

His voice came over quickly. “What’s going on, Paris?”

“I got another note left downstairs.”

“Did you open it?”

“Yes. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known what it said,” she said dryly.

“Are you alone?” he asked. She could hear him moving around, then a door shut.

“No. London is with me.”

“I’m on the way. Stay put.”

He hung up.

Not a “Bye.”

Not a “Relax.”

Not even “Are you okay?”

“Well, the good news is, you get to see your boyfriend tonight,” London said.