Chapter Seven
Kingston
Y es, I’ll do it.
That’s what Sadie Hess said the night before.
Followed by, I’ll start and be in touch.
I lay in bed, one arm thrown over my face. It’s five a.m. and I need to get up and work out. I need to do a lot of things before I hit my own trail on things.
She stretched her game and my patience almost to a surgical breaking point, and then she told me what I knew she’d say all along.
One more minute and I’d have walked, no matter what she said.
She’s a pain in the ass and dangerous. I’m not yet sure in what way she’s the latter, but she is.
Sadie’s also lying about my mother.
I’ll take her answer for now. She sidestepped with a very logical answer, but it wasn’t what I was asking and we both know it. My mother is up to something and Sadie plays things so close that pushing isn’t going to get me anywhere. At least not yet.
And regardless, me seeing that scrap of paper isn’t the point. I sought Sadie out. I want the best and I’ll use the best.
I’m just going to need to keep a close eye on her, that’s all.
Dropping my arm, I get up and head to my gym.
Magnus is saying something and I’m not listening. It’s not my brothers bore me; we’re close and they’re more than family—they’re friends, something I don’t have among people on our tier.
Mainly because I’m in agreement with Sadie there.
I don’t like the mega rich.
Ironic, I know.
Something hits me and I snatch the wad of paper before it hits my lap. Over the low hum of the exclusive club we’re having lunch and drinks in, I say, “Was that needed, Ry?”
My brother shrugs and leans back in his chair, sticking his hands behind his head and giving me his shit eating grin. “You tell us. You’re somewhere else today.”
“Sorry.” I run a hand over my face and turn my phone over so I can’t see the screen. “Thinking about the latest.”
“From beyond the grave?” Hud pushes his plate away and toys with the cloth serviette.
Magnus raises a brow, not looking the slightest annoyed I’d tuned out. “Or from across the divorce table.”
We’re in agreement on that. Our mother has her elegant fingers all over this. “Yeah. Seems that if I don’t locate this missing final piece, the whole family company goes kaput.”
A dark shadow crosses Ry’s face. I get it, I do. I know what he had to leap through to save it from company hands. Sure, he fell in love and reformed himself because of that, but this shit is so…annoying.
He’s in love, but he’s still him. “I wouldn’t care, but come on. Do you know the kind of boring crap I had to endure?” He shudders. “I have nightmares. Nightmares.”
“And Elliot.”
Ry glares at Hud. “Of course I have her. I’d have gotten her, anyway.”
I know that’s just posturing on his part. Of all the things he’s ever been sure about, there’s only one he wasn’t, and that was the redhead who turns out is his match. Ry faltered, questioned himself, and somehow found himself all at the same time. He got the girl—he’s Ryder—but that’s because he put everything that mattered on the line.
“Uh huh,” I say. “You suffered.”
His eyes narrow, but he smiles and across the room the young wife of some rich ass sighs. And my brother doesn’t even notice. That’s how far gone he is. The great Ryder Sinclair who could pick out a willing female at a thousand paces doesn’t see the one a few feet from him.
Love.
It’s fucking twisted and stupid if you ask me.
Still, he’s happy, they all are.
I look at them all. “I’ve a mind to let it all go, but you’ve all done so much to get to this point.”
“Even with changing fucking rules,” says Hud.
Mag takes a sip of his drink. “For reasons not known to any of us.”
“We all have our own empires, but that isn’t the point. They’re saying if it’s not there, the company and the inheritance is gone. And, I don’t appreciate being fucked with. What’s mine is mine and what’s coming to me is mine, too.”
“So, no luck then?”
I ignore Ryder. And my phone that isn’t ringing. “This isn’t about money as in actual dollars to dollars. This is about us. We lose the company, it makes us look shaky. It takes away that something extra. I really don’t care about the inheritance we all have. I don’t need that money.”
“But you want it.”
“Of course I want it, Hudson. It’s mine. And stupid games won’t be what takes it. Or the company. I’ve got feelers out, I’m waiting to hear from a few leads and I’ve hired the Raven.”
Ryder looks at me. “You hired a cat burglar?”
“Ex.”
“I’m aware people hire what they think is the Raven, but—”
“It’s her.”
Ryder’s face splits into a wide grin. “Hot?”
“And a cynical, duplicitous woman who’s probably going to try and steal from under me.”
Ryder looks at Magnus and Hudson. “So, he’s saying it’s true love.”
“Mother also had her name on a scrap of paper. Well, Raven.”
Hud smiles. “If she wasn’t so annoying with this, I’d admire it all. What is she up to?”
I don’t answer because I’ve no idea at all.
Mag hits Hud on the back. “Speaking of mothers, when’s the baby due?”
“You know how these things work, right?” But color snakes up his cheeks. “And how did you know?”
“Scarlett’s not drinking booze,” says Ryder.
Magnus nods. “All glowing.”
“And,” I say, “you hover like she’s made out of glass.” I look at the others. “They haven’t told anyone, so heading out of the first trimester.”
My brother groans. “I’m in over my head here. But yeah. We’re having a baby.”
The others start talking all over each other and my phone rings. I make my goodbyes and head out into the early afternoon.
By four p.m., I’m frustrated.
Nothing from Sadie. And she still has my damn watch. I’m still working out how she managed to get the leather band opened and it off me without me noticing.
One thing is for certain, I decide as I head to Jenson’s office as I’ve been summoned, I’m going to have to keep a close eye on Sadie. Work with her. Be her fucking shadow if I have to.
But I want the best.
I also don’t appreciate being summoned. The meeting, though, is short and sweet, simply that he went to collect everything as per the instructions from the safe and they were gone. No sign of a break in, nothing.
All I have to do is sign a document stating if the tiara isn’t back then the aforementioned loss of the business begins. To prove this is true, he shows me the paperwork on that, signed and dated before my father’s death.
To really check, I need a copy and I ask. Jenson tells me he’ll forward it to my attorney.
It doesn’t matter, though, because my mother has stakes in the company and while she isn’t there, she’s not about to let it all go on some kind of whim.
Once all that is done, I set out for a walk in the park. I need to think.
The wind is cold and bitter, but the sun warming and the sky clear. The weather’s dichotomy reminds me of the push and pull inside me right now.
Part of me wants to tell them to fuck themselves…not that it’s Jenson’s fault and not that I’d say that to my mother in so many words. She wouldn’t be pleased, to put it mildly, and while I’m not in the habit of doing things to please her, I’m also not in the habit of trying to piss her off.
Let’s just say the world might think we get our ruthlessness from our father, but the deeper vein is very much from her.
I don’t know what she’s up to and why she dropped the scrap of paper. Accident? On purpose? Really, I’m not sure it matters because both questions come to the same answer…Faye Sinclair had Sadie Hess on her mind.
The reasonings?
Asking her isn’t going to get me anywhere.
I’m just going to have to go into this with eyes very wide open, a heavy serving of suspicion, and keeping Sadie where I can see her.
My phone buzzes and I ignore it. Work. They know I’m taking time away from the day to day so if they’re contacting me…
With a sigh, I cut my walk short and pull out my phone.
It’s late when I get home. Work idiocy has been averted, and some social drinks that were business in disguise done and dusted and a quick catch up with an old college friend has pushed the hours back further than I intended.
Still nothing from Sadie.
She’d said she’d get to work and be in touch and I’m thinking I don’t like that arrangement. I want to be there, too. Going through this each step of the way like I planned. Tomorrow morning I’ll call.
When I check my email, I go over the latest information a PI I hired found on break ins to do with jewels—rare, old, coveted, worth a fortune—and art in the last six months. I’d asked if he found a pattern to go back further.
But if what he’s sent is a pattern, I’m not seeing it.
There are no signs of the Raven. And the break ins haven’t been a few things. They’ve been sloppy or random.
Unless someone is making it seem that way.
I rub my eyes. With a sigh, I get up and give the notebook I’m making scribbled notes in a disgusted look. Nothing at all. I’d thought maybe I could have something as a starting point, and either work on it with Sadie or see if she’d gone to the same place.
But tomorrow morning I can deal with that. I shower and go to bed.
Something wakes me.
A sound.
Like breathing.
Soft.
And something slow, like a low buzz of electric awareness whispers through my blood. The darkness blankets my bedroom as I pulled the blinds designed to block light.
My heart starts to beat faster, but I just snap on the light and sit up. “There are things called phones. And regular hours. Not to mention doorbells.”
“I prefer this.” Sadie’s leaning against the doorframe, dressed in black, her hair back to hardcore pixie, with the longer side tousled and falling almost over one eye.
“Dramatic?”
“My own terms.”
“Aren’t you a little old for teenaged rebel bullshit?”
“Aren’t you a little young for cantankerous old man crap?”
I grin and go to throw black the quilt. “I’m dressed.”
“I’ve seen it all before, anyway. Men are not as impressive as they think they are.”
“You broke in to fuck with my male ego?” I get up and go find some jeans. There’s a part of me that wants to just stay in the boxer briefs—she’s lucky I wore something tonight—but it’s probably not that smart. She’s looking all sorts of delicious and sleep still wraps around me with soft edges and the last thing I need is to get an erection.
She’ll never let that go.
Figuratively.
I pull them on and turn to her. She’s staring at me. My ass, if I’m not mistaken from how high she has to lift her gaze, and how slow she then goes, even as her cheeks start to tinge red.
“Like what you see?”
“Just looking to see where the scars from your implants are,” she says with a sniff.
I come up to her and lean on the other side of the frame, crossing my arms over my bare chest. “How did you get in, anyway?”
“I’m very good at what I do. State-of-the-art security is nothing to me. And you didn’t turn it on. Just a tip, service entrances are a godsend to a good criminal.”
“I’ll note that down.” I let my gaze slide over her. Christ, she’s lovely. “The hour?”
“Maybe I’m into the witching hour?”
“It’s past that.”
“Call me a tardy witch, then.” She turns and starts down my wide hall, her boots silent on the hardwood floors. Me? You can hear me.
Sadie turns right and into my study, turning the light on as she slides behind my desk. My computer’s on, spilling its light on the notepad with a vicious scrawl below mine. An expensive pen sits, lid off, letting the ink inside the nib dry. Only the touch of a smile tells me she did that deliberately.
“Fire this guy. Actually, you don’t have to. I already did.”
“You broke into my email account.”
She sighs and spins a little in the leather chair as I throw myself on the sofa opposite the bookcase of boring books that serve me well for various business purposes. I tuck a cushion behind my head.
“I’m afraid my skills don’t go in that direction.” She smiles a little wider. “Lucky for me you didn’t close out your account.”
That should make uneasiness sink into my bones, but it doesn’t. For some reason, I don’t think she came in here to read work emails and personal emails. And if she did, she’s going to be disappointed as there’s nothing of interest to her in any of them. Nothing juicy.
“Lucky you.”
“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me?”
She taps her finger on the notepad. “Your detective did bare minimum. Police reports and the like. I’ve been spending the day looking into other things. Talking to the right people, some of those you’d call the wrong people, and looking at things that aren’t reported.”
I sit up at that. “What do you mean?”
Talk about the fucking cat who drank the cream.
“What I mean is do you know where the tiara was held? I do. Not Jenson’s office. That’s his name, right? The lawyer? Well, there are things that haven’t been reported. Like that break in. Which was noted. A month ago.”
I’m frowning. “That’s when my brother told me…”
“So maybe we should start there. What do you say?”
“You know I’m saying yes. But is that it?”
“No,” she says. “I have a plan. How about a mini-road trip? See who and what is behind this.”