Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 339

Without missing a beat, Sylvia blurted out, “Well, handcuffs come in a pair.”

The moment the words left her mouth, the shop owner caught on, grabbed another handcuff, and promptly snapped it onto Rupert’s wrist.

“There you go, a pair! Now when you two hold hands, it’s like wearing handcuffs.”

Only then did Sylvia realize that ever since the shooting range, Rupert had been holding her hand the whole time.

She tried to wriggle free, but his grip didn’t budge an inch. Frustrated, she glared at him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Rupert didn’t even bother denying it. Still holding her hand, he just said, “This thing’s pretty ugly, you know.”

Ugly, yet you convinced the shop owner to slap another one on you. Real smooth.

The cheap metal of the handcuff looked even more ridiculous next to his watch, which probably cost as much as a new car.

Sylvia turned around. The group of men who had been tailing her earlier had vanished without a trace.

She shot Rupert a look. “Who were those guys? You definitely know.”

Rupert hesitated for a second, his voice dropping cold. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If I don’t worry about myself, who will?” Sylvia snapped back, her patience wearing thin.

“I…”

His words faded into the background, swallowed up by the noisy crowd.

Sylvia thought she caught what he said, but she couldn’t be sure.

By the time she snapped out of it, she found herself standing outside a little diner—the kind of greasy spoon that served the best burgers and fries in town.

It was packed inside, so they grabbed an empty table outside, under a plastic canopy that flapped in the wind.

Rupert handed her the menu.

Sylvia glanced at the diner’s sign. It was exactly the place she’d been hunting for all day.

She frowned. “Have you been following me?”

Rupert’s face stayed blank. “You think I have that much free time? I was just passing by.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes, realizing how paranoid she sounded.

She looked down at the menu. “Uncle Rupert, you want something?”

“Nah.” Rupert glanced around, clearly not in the mood for food.

Rupert gave her a sideways glance. “They’re Orson’s.”

Sylvia blinked, finally noticing that Rupert’s jacket sleeves looked way too short—it definitely wasn’t his coat.

Suspicious, she asked, “Where’s Orson?”

Rupert shrugged. “On door duty.”

Huh?

…

Worried the men from earlier might show up again, Sylvia didn’t protest when Rupert insisted on walking her back to the hotel.

When they reached her room, she went to close the door, but Rupert stopped her, his hand pressed firmly against it.

“Sylvia, it’s late.”

“Yeah, Uncle Rupert. Good night. See you tomorrow.” Sylvia tried to push the door shut, but it wouldn’t budge.

Rupert stared at her, leaning in a little, and for the first time didn’t bother hiding the storm in his eyes.

“Tonight,” he said quietly, “I’m staying here.”