CHAPTER TWO #2
“Depends.” He spins roulette on his Casino Tourbillon watch, which is his telltale sign that something is unsettling. “Do you need to scratch an itch, or are you looking for more?”
Keeping my face impassive, I don’t hesitate. “I’m never looking for more.”
“Good.” The corners of his mouth wrestle his cheeks as he turns back to his laptop screen. “Because getting involved with a thief is as crazy as marrying an assassin.”
He would know.
One Week Later
Ryker flakes his pan-seared sea bass with the side of his fork. “So, you got a lead?”
We’re at L’ange Noire, the more elegant of our two restaurants open to the public. This one boasts of exquisite French cuisine and subdued ambience.
It’s rare that the two of us share a meal alone.
I’m not sure why. We’re close, but we don’t often get pushed together without the rest of the family.
He was always there for me when I was growing up.
But he wasn’t quite the father figure that Axel was, and our seven-year age difference kept him from being someone for me to get into trouble with.
Now he’s got a beautiful family. Mercy and their five-and-a-half-year-old son, Remy, are usually with him.
And they’ve got another baby due in early summer.
But my current issue is something he relates to—on a more dire level. Because there was a time his beautiful family was missing and he stopped at nothing to find them.
I tap the table, momentarily ignoring my filet mignon. “I got a name, but she’s a bit like a ghost. She wasn’t on the list of professionals that Axel offered. And regarding her current location, I’m not finding much information for the past two years.”
He lifts his chin, his icy-blue eyes searching me over the flickering tabletop candle. “How did you get the name?”
“It woke me up at three a.m. last night, like a hurricane pounding against the windows. She was at the banquet for the WAGs After Dark Association a few years ago, the one where Mercy gave the masters of ceremonies toast.”
He chews his bite of fish and washes it down with whiskey. “One of the athletes’ wives?”
“Fiancée. Well, ex now.”
That stills him, his spine snapping rigid. “Tell me you didn’t fuck around with—”
“Of course not.” I level him with a glare, guzzling the last drops of my own drink. “I’m a lot of things, but not a fucking home-wrecker. I never spoke to her before Mardi Gras, but I noticed her at the banquet.”
He bobs his head, calmer now that cheating is out of the question. It’s an issue none of us tolerate due to our parents’ history, despite how prevalent it is among our members.
He throws his napkin on the table. “And now you can’t forget her?”
I rub my hand across the five-o’clock shadow on my chin, wanting to be forthright but also at a loss. “Only because she’s a mystery. I prefer to be the guy with all the answers.”
“And all the numbers.” He chuckles as he scrolls through his phone to send me a contact. “Use my private investigator, Knox. He came through for me. And he’s discreet, so it won’t tip off anyone in her professional sphere.”
Five Days Later
Me: I found her.
Satisfaction washes over me as I cruise through La Lune Noire, passing huddled members and 1920s-clad performers, to the tune of electric swing music piped through the ceiling speakers.
A group of dancers scurries past, giggling and waving at me.
I dip my chin to them with a wink that reveals my shallow dimple and makes them blush, but I don’t slow my stride.
It’s evident I’m not dying—like Maddox claimed they feared.
The scents of champagne, cognac, and Chanel No. 5 shroud my journey in fragrances of nostalgia. I love this place. The history, opulence, nefarious guests, and outlandish entertainment. But it has nothing to do with why I’m soaring right now.
Axel: The girl you’re obsessed with?
Me: I’m not obsessed with her. It was just a puzzle I was eager to solve, which I did. Thanks for the support, Papa Axe.
Mercy: I get that. Like a murder mystery.
Tessa: Without the murder.
Mercy: But with the crazy geese.
Mercy sucks at idioms. I think that’s the issue here, but honestly, I’m not sure.
Me: ???
Axel: It’s good for the gander.
Zara: He’s cooking her goose.
Maddox: This is pathetic. Cash has been on a wild goose chase.
Mercy: That’s what I said.
Ryker: Not even close, Viper.
Jax: I think we give Merce this one. I see the logic. Did you know that’s actually about horses?
Mercy: Yes! Shakespeare. I’ll teach Remy about that this afternoon.
We all homeschool Remy, offering our unique gifts to his education. The kid is a genius. And we’re phenomenal teachers. He’s already mastered several card tricks and can lift Pixie Styx off his Aunt Tessa like a pro.
Me: How are horses involved?
Maddox: The goose chase.
They make no fucking sense.
Tessa: Have you ever noticed how often our text threads revolve around animals?
Maddox: No raccoons this time.
I’m still not sure what the raccoon reference is about. It comes up from time to time, but sometimes, it’s best to just keep moving.
Jax: Straight from the goose’s mouth.
Mercy: That one really is horse. Even I know that.
Me: How the hell do we get anything done?
Ryker: I have been saying that for years.