Chapter 6
6
“My, my, my...” purred a dark voice.
Celeste and Beatrice’s Uber let them out a block away from Dr. Grant’s town house when Celeste heard a familiar voice up the sidewalk. A few yards away, the sun was setting on a tall, lean figure wearing a charcoal-gray three-piece suit and what she assumed was a feline smile. Her heart immediately lifted.
“Who is that?” Beatrice whispered as they approached the man.
“Santiago Pe?a, The Wheels.”
“Is he dangerous?” she asked in a lower voice.
“Your pockets are safe,” Celeste chuckled. “Keep an eye on your panties, though. He’s quite the charmer.”
“What are you saying about me, CeCe?” Santiago asked as they stopped in front of Dr. Grant’s stoop. He was as devilishly handsome as he was several years ago, with the same dark hair buzzed close to the scalp and Van Dyke beard. He’d always been fastidious about his appearance.
“Your ears burning, Santi?” she teased.
His languid posture was catlike and dangerous as he sized the women up. His focus lingered on Beatrice a beat longer before answering. “You look good, mana. Who is your friend?”
“Beatrice, but my friends call me Bea,” her assistant said, sticking her hand out for a shake.
In true Santiago fashion, his eyes flickered with intense interest before taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Then consider me a friend, Bonita Bea. It’s lovely to meet you.” Beatrice bit her lip to keep from grinning, which wasn’t a shocker.
Santiago had a way with women that had never influenced Celeste. She fought hard not to roll her eyes at the man she’d always considered her kid brother. “Slow your roll, Santi.”
He straightened away from Beatrice and glanced up at Doris’s front door. “So. This is the end, huh. Mother is gone.”
Celeste’s stomach flipped at the mention of death. “What did you think about the letter?”
“Playfully macabre. You think Mags got one?”
She sighed. “I’m almost positive he has. I’m not sure if I’m ready to see him again.”
“It’s been a long time, mana,” Santiago murmured. “I wonder where he is. Will he show?”
Beatrice and Celeste exchanged a meaningful look before Celeste spoke. “I’m willing to bet he’ll be here. He still lives in the city.”
“We saw him last night,” Beatrice added before pressing her lips together tightly. “Sorry.”
“And what a sight it was,” said a man’s voice behind her.
Santiago’s dark brown eyes brightened as he glanced over Celeste’s shoulder. “Mags!”
Oh, Lord... It took a lot of effort for her to turn around to face this man again. But Celeste was going to be mature as fuck because today was not about Magnus or even her. They were here to recognize the passing of a great woman. A woman who taught Celeste everything she knew about thieving.
Magnus stood over her, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, hands in his pockets. His blond hair was wet, probably from a recent shower. This time he wasn’t smirking; he wore a somber expression as he studied her face. They shared a brief connection before he broke eye contact, and a smile lit his face. He shook hands with Santiago and sank into a brotherly hug. Celeste looked at the two and immediately felt like an outsider. When the crew disbanded, neither Santiago, nor Lawrence, nor Doris took sides, and Celeste didn’t ask them to. The problems between her and Magnus were simply that. It still stung to see the men pick up where they left off.
“We’re all here, plus an extra,” Magnus said upon releasing Santiago. He raised a brow at Beatrice. “I’m assuming you were in her ear last night?”
Beatrice offered the same friendly handshake. “I was. I’m Beatrice.”
Magnus was not nearly as effusive as Santiago but greeted her politely. “How old are you, Beatrice? Has CeCe told you how dangerous this line of work is?”
Irritation tore through Celeste as she interpreted his scolding. Thieving was indeed a dangerous business and she’d done an excellent job of keeping Beatrice out of the field. “It starts immediately, doesn’t it?” Celeste asked. “We come back together and you’re back to running things.”
“I’m twenty-six,” Beatrice said with a smirk. “And we’ve been doing well over the last few years. In fact, we did extremely well last night up against you.”
Magnus fell quiet as he glanced between the two women. Internally, Celeste was proud of her little protégé.
“Last night?” Santiago intoned. “It sounds like our little family reunion started early...”
“Maybe we should see Lawrence,” Celeste said, starting up the stairs.
“Yes, let’s get this over with,” Magnus mumbled, following her.
She stood at the door with a burning face, realizing that he was directly beside her. His closeness and the heat of that June evening made their proximity more intimate than it should have been. His cologne and soap wafted too close to her, an old and familiar memory scent that reminded her of his body and how entwined they used to be. Celeste rang the doorbell and waited for Lawrence, hoping he’d rescue her from her thoughts.
“You did extremely well, Dr. St. Pierre,” he whispered, stiffly.
His warm breath caressed her ear, sending a tingle across her skin and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. It took everything in her power not to close her eyes and sink against his chest. “I know it’s killing you to admit that,” she muttered instead.
He grunted in reply.
She didn’t like how her body reacted to his nearness. As if her tightened nipples had forgotten about the past; as if Magnus Larsson wasn’t the most annoying, pretentious asshole in all five boroughs. A steady thrumming between her thighs grew stronger at the thought of their kiss last night...
The door flew open, revealing an older gentleman wearing a sad smile. Since Celeste had last seen him, a few more wrinkles creased Lawrence Cole’s deep brown skin, and his tight curly hair had far more salt than pepper. “Hello, kids,” he said in a warm gravelly voice. “Nice to have you back.”
Tears immediately pricked her eyes. Of course, to someone who was in their sixties, the rest of the crew would look and act like kids . Lawrence had always been a serene father figure for her. He tried to offer as much wisdom as he could in the face of Dr. Grant’s ostentatious ambitions. Part of her wondered if she had spent more time listening to him, would she be in this position without her old crew.
No, that would let Magnus skate by without blame.
She crossed the threshold and gave him a fierce hug. “It’s nice to see you, too,” she whispered.
Doris greeted them in her library.
Her remains sat on a great oak desk in a black marble urn. Her chosen resting place was small but incredibly sophisticated. It was difficult for Magnus to tear his eyes from the vessel, but he managed to snag a glance at Celeste, whose eyes were misty with emotion. Beatrice sat beside her, holding her hand, while whispering something inaudible.
He wondered if he should have offered her condolences when he saw her on the sidewalk. She was dressed casually that evening, wearing joggers and a denim jacket, nothing like the audacious gown she wore last night. Her hair was much shorter than he remembered. A mop of curls tapered into a fade down the sides and back of her head, revealing the sharpness of her jaw and chin. Anger and panic had flashed across her face when their eyes met and he chickened out to greet Santiago instead.
And now he could tell she was trying her damnedest to hold back her grief. Like the rest of them, Celeste had plenty of experience with loss. Santiago’s father, a former associate of Dr. Grant’s, died in prison when Santiago was eighteen. Magnus’s parents were killed in a car accident while traveling through Northern Sweden. He didn’t know Beatrice’s story, but he wondered if the girl was in the same piss-poor shape as the rest of them. The orphans that Doris gathered.
Santiago was the only one to pour himself a cup of tea before sitting in a high-back chair. Magnus claimed a chair for himself and waited to hear Lawrence out. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the old man until he saw his tired expression at the front door. He looked good, though. Healthy enough for Magnus to not worry. When they all worked together, Lawrence oversaw most of their gadgetry and supplies. If they needed night-vision goggles or lock-pick kits, it was his responsibility to test them out for effectiveness. As far as Magnus knew, Doris had worked with the man well before any of them ever knew her. It didn’t surprise him that she entrusted Lawrence with her estate.
Lawrence walked behind the desk and sat down with Doris on his right. Only the gentle clatter of Santiago’s spoon against his teacup broke through the heavy silence of the room. Lawrence took a moment to stare at the marble urn before taking a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice shook.
“The funeral home delivered her this morning. I suspect around the time you all received your letters.” He paused, took off his wire-rimmed glasses. “She passed on Tuesday after about a year of breast cancer treatments. Doris never liked going to the doctor, but she complained about some pain in her chest, under her arm. She had a hard time breathing and so on. By the time I begged her to go to the doctor...” He trailed off, looking down at his hands for a beat. “Anyhow, when they caught it, they called it...uh, secondary breast cancer. Stage four, I think. It got into her lungs.
“We worked at it, though. Shoot, what’s the point of having all this money if you can’t fight? That’s what I told her. She worked at it. Gave it her best. But, uh, you know...” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “There’s only so much you can do.”
“When did she stop treatment?” Celeste asked, her voice flat and her face blank.
Lawrence looked up sharply as though he forgot they were in the room. “Oh, uh, about two months ago.”
Magnus let out a breath through his nose and closed his eyes. A whole year of living with this. The obvious question that hung in the air was why didn’t they say anything? Had he known, he would have—
Would have what? Flown to her doorstep after years of self-imposed exile? He was the first crew member to leave. She’d asked him not to, but the thought of working beside Celeste after that night in Stockholm scared him off bad. After fishing her out of a river, he issued her an ultimatum. He was sick of Celeste taking unnecessary risks for Doris, and that jewelry set was one of them. Once he hauled her onto the boat, he’d cupped his hands over her ashen face and chattering jaw and shouted, “Aren’t you done yet?”
Celeste had made it clear she wasn’t.
And rather than see the woman he cared for jeopardize her life again, he left them all behind. Including Doris. And now look at her. Ashes in a beautiful jar, added to her priceless stolen artwork and jewels.
“How did she seem?” Magnus heard himself ask. Numbness settled over his body as he stared at Celeste, willing her to break first. Perhaps if she could show a bit of emotion, he might let himself feel something.
Celeste looked back at him. Her full lips set in a straight line, but her eyes swam with unshed tears. She wasn’t going to blink.
“Hopeful,” Lawrence said. “She was relieved to know there was an end and giddy to know there’d be a beginning.”
“I’m sorry?” Santiago asked, setting his cup down.
“Well, that’s the thing about Doris. She had to do everything on her own terms. Especially dying. That’s where y’all come in.”
They looked around the room at each other in confusion. “Does this have something to do with the letters we received?” Magnus asked. “Her invitation wasn’t just a death notification.”
“No,” Lawrence said, pulling open a drawer beside him. From it, he extracted a medium-size wooden box. “Her invitation was to something much larger. Before I get into that, I’d like to know if you promise to hear everything I have to say before devolving into a shouting match.” His gaze flickered between Magnus and Celeste with a fatherly warning.
“I’m not here to shout,” Magnus said defensively. “Talk to her.”
Celeste rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “ I don’t have anything to shout about.”
“And are we sure Miss Beatrice needs to be here for this?” Lawrence asked.
“Let her stay,” Santiago said with a shrug. “If this is what I suspect it is, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“She stays,” Celeste agreed. “We’ve worked together for a few years now. She’s a crew member by proxy.”
The young woman tucked her braids behind her ear and looked around the room before thanking them. Magnus didn’t have an opinion one way or another. He was more interested in the business at hand.
Lawrence pulled a silver chain from his neck and used a key to unlock his box. The first thing he retrieved was a letter. “I oughta start off by saying that you’re going to have a lot of questions. I know about as much as Doris allowed me to know. She planned the details and the goals so that I could gather you here. What comes next will be a surprise for all of us. That’s how she wanted it.”
And what Doris wanted, she usually got.