33. Sydney
CHAPTER 33
SYDNEY
West explodes. He slaps a hand on the side table that sits beneath the large mirror. He rants and raves as he looks at me through the reflection, telling me I’m a fool for risking my life like that.
I suppose he has a right to be mad. His boat is at the bottom of the bay in California. I’ve withheld the truth from him far longer than he deserved.
I watch as he paces back and forth in the small hotel room, occasionally throwing a fist in the air and repeating the word murder a ridiculous number of times. I rest my chin in my hand and contemplate taking a nap while he gets this rant out.
But honestly, the view is great. Whenever he throws his hands in the air, I see his muscles dance beneath the tattoos. It’s a good look.
Finally, he stops ranting and faces me, catching me staring at him with dreamy eyes.
“Why aren’t you scared of me?” he yells, waving a hand through the air again.
I fold my arms across my chest and look up at him. “Because I’ve been with you for a few days now. And the only time you’ve done anything remotely violent toward me was when you threw me off the dock—to protect me. Out of every annoying thing I’ve put you through, you’ve never turned your frustration on me. Why would I be scared of you now?”
I can practically watch his anger sputter to a halt. It’s like watching a balloon deflate. His shoulders sag, and his expression softens. “It’s a lot harder to yell when you say rational things.”
Shifting forward, I clasp my hands together and hold them on my lap. “I think you have every right to be mad. I should have told you what I was really up to. But I was scared you wouldn’t help me. Bodie King told me you were incredibly capable but not likely to help—unless it was something very simple. And I think you and I both know this is not simple. I needed someone to help me, and I thought I couldn’t tell you the truth.”
We stare at each other, and then something phenomenal happens. He begins shaking his head slowly; then, a smile stretches across his face. Two in one day .
“I knew it wouldn’t be so simple—nothing with Bodie ever is. I should recognized why you were so calm. You never once acted shocked at the mention of the mafia. Because you’ve known exactly what you’re walking into.”
I see myself flinch in the big mirror.“I’m really very sorry for dragging you into this. I really didn’t mean to do that part.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is. It’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m kind of enjoying this.”
He’s still smiling.
“ Kind of ? Please. This is the best time of your life; admit it.” I’m pushing my luck, but I want to see him keep smiling. It’s nice.
“Here’s the deal, though. If we’re doing this…if we’re getting revenge on the Italian mafia, then we”—he points back and forth between us—“are not going to do anything illegal. Got it?”
I cross my heart. “I don’t want to do anything illegal. I just want them to be scratching their heads when they can’t find their money.”
West chuckles. “They’ll be scratching something. Now, let’s just hope Lucky and Crew came prepared to help us. Otherwise, we’ll still be without our resources. Oh, and my percentage has jumped to sixty percent.”
“What?” I gasp, faking some outrage.
“That’s for lying to me.” He looks so smug, so proud of himself for arguing a higher percentage rate. It’s rather adorable. He’s rather adorable, and I want to keep him.
And that is dangerous thinking.
“What does your family think of your plan for revenge?” West asks as he sinks down onto the bed across from me. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees as he studies me.
“Well, it maybe not quite?—”
“From this point on, we’re being completely honest with each other,” he declares. “So that means not making up some lame excuse.”
It’s not completely unfair of him to want the truth. “Fine. They don’t know anything. My parents think I’m on a girls’ trip. My brothers think I’m touring the Oregon coast solo. And I’m worried they’re starting to get suspicious.”
“So if anything had happened to you, they wouldn’t have known?” He grinds out.
I grimace. “No.”
He rubs a hand over his face, looking suddenly tired. “Don’t you know what it’s like for your family to be worried?”
“Yes, yes, I do. Which is why I didn’t tell them anything.”
“That won’t stop them from worrying. Or falling apart if something happens to you,” West says in a quiet voice.
I match his tone. “What about your family? Won’t they be worried about you?”
He shakes his head. “I’m the designated worrier in my family.”
I smile softly at that. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. Do you have any siblings?”
“A younger sister. She lives close to my mom in Boise.”
I want to ask him if he’s close to them and if he talks to them. But obviously, if he worries about them, he cares for them.
“I can practically hear the questions going off in your mind, Syd. You might as well ask them.”
I shrug. “Okay, then. Are you close with your family? Where’s your dad? How often do they visit?”
He interlocks his fingers and stares at me. “Yes, I’m close with my Mom and sister. My dad was killed in a head-on collision with a drunk driver when I was nineteen. We all visit each other regularly. I don’t like wasting time on the phone, so we catch up more in person than just mindless chatting.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can manage as I stare at him. Losing his dad in such a tragic way…that changes a person.
He stares into the distance, his eyes glazed as if lost in memories.
The seconds turn to minutes, and I don’t know what to say to make everything better. Because I desperately want everything to be okay for him. So instead, I say, “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
He smiles softly at my very subtle shift in topics. “Me too. We’ll go get Lucky and Crew and get some lunch. While we’re there, you can tell me all about how you thought you were going to pull this off without a partner.”
It turns out, Crew and Lucky are waiting just outside in the hall. And they are as hungry as we are. We settle on a café close by that serves breakfast all day with a variety of lunch options.
None of us waste time with niceties when we sit down to eat.
“Gracen gave me the basics. You’re looking for some money that might belong to the Ricci family. What do we have to work with?” Crew asks as he digs into a stack of French toast.
I reach out to push the plate a little closer to him and not as close to West’s plate. I don’t want him to have a reaction to the gluten. I don’t know how severe his reaction is.
West catches my eye and winks at me.
I think I’ve discovered West’s secret.
He likes having someone look after him, but I don’t think he realizes it. He always acts surprised.
Maybe he’s just not used to it, and that’s why.
“The best we can figure from the file is, there’s some money that went missing a while ago from the Ricci family.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard some stories about that,” Crew says as he takes a sip of coffee.
“Isn’t this just a shot in the dark, so to speak?” Lucky asks. “It’s not like you’ve had a lot of confirmation yet.”
“But I’ve seen the manifesto,” West interrupts. “I think Sydney is prepared that it might not be what she’s looking for…but it’s something.”
I smile at him. He’s catching on. It’s not exactly the money I’m after, which is why I don’t mind if he wants all of it. Heck, he can have every penny. I’m fine financially, and that man could use some money to resurrect his boat. I’m just doing this to right some wrongs in the world. Maybe West and I are a little more alike than I first thought. We both need there to be justice.
Now that I know about his dad…I can see where he gets his drive—and his disillusionment. No matter how many people he saves, it’s not going to bring his dad back.
“I want to empty the container. I don’t care who gets what, but West is up to somewhere around thirty-two percent, I think.”
His knee nudges mine under the table. “You mean seventy-two.”
I reach out and pat his hand. “We’re going to have to work on your counting again. I know it can’t be past fifty.”
West’s eyes spark dangerously, and he sets his fork down to lean close to me. “You want to argue over my percentage right now?”
I lean toward him. How does he smell so good just with hotel shampoo? “I’ll arm wrestle you for it.”
He drops his head, and I’m left staring at his blond hair while his shoulders shake.
Finally, he looks up at me, and I can see that he’s laughing one of those body-shaking, contagious laughs.
“I feel like we’re missing the joke,” Lucky says as he pops the top off his glass bottle of ginger ale.
“West has an inflated view of his strength. He honestly thinks he could beat me in an arm-wrestling match,” I scoff.
Crew looks at me as though there’s a possibility I might be deranged. No surprise there. Lucky seems to catch on quickly as he glances back and forth between us.
“I’d just hate to actually embarrass him and make him lose, so I won’t.”
West’s hand lands on my knee firmly, and I jump, banging my elbow on the table. He’s still smirking when he says, “You’re pushing it, Syd.”
I just grin back at him. Because how can I not? He’s flirting with me. I think.
The rest of lunch is spent planning, talking, and organizing a game plan. Because whether we like it or not, Lucky and Crew are with us. We couldn’t get rid of them if we tried now. There’s too much temptation for them to walk away.
I’m not mad about it, but West looks less than pleased that he might have to share his percentage of the money we find.