Time to confront the beast. He led Jane toward the heart of the enemy.
“We’ll be stuck until the cake cutting,” Jane whispered breathily in his ear. “It won’t be for a while. We can still run away, maybe to Italy.” He liked the sound of that.
“We’re on a mission, then. Operation Cake—a surgical strike, then bug out.”
“Operation Sugar.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am.”
She squeezed his arm like a laugh.
Then she clenched it hard enough he almost yelped. Her nails were short, but his shirt was thin and her grip strong.
“There you are, sis. You know that I’ve had the servants looking just everywhere for you,” Debbie whisked across the lawn like the Wicked Witch of the West. The belled skirt made it look as if she slid rather than walked. Jane glanced at the perfect lawn but could
