CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SYLVIE
Cash is waiting for me outside of Axel’s office when I get there.
He’s wearing a button-up with the collar open and dress pants.
And he’s doing that suave leaning thing he does—one hand in his pocket, ankles crossed, shoulder braced on the wall.
I’d judge him if it didn’t work brilliantly.
But my insides turn to goo, and heat pools between my legs.
I can’t even be angry about all the women ogling him last night. Who could ignore that?
“Have a good morning, Sly?”
An urge to rush toward him and leap into his arms seizes me, but I recognize that it would be sending mixed signals, which would accurately represent where my head is at, but only further confuse matters.
I settle on a friendly hug, but when I melt into him, his arms squeeze me and his exhale showers me with chills.
“I’ve hated waking up on my birthday for as long as I can remember,” I confess against his chest before lifting my chin to ensure he sees the authenticity in my eyes. “But not today. I can’t thank you enough. The clothes are too much. When you said birthday gi—”
“Those weren’t for your birthday.”
I release him, cocking my head in the universal gesture for bullshit. “There were thirty racks.”
“I thought that was a nice touch.” His lips curl into an arrogant grin, his blue eyes twinkling. “But I would have gotten you the clothing even if it wasn’t your birthday. Consider it a contribution to your required Noire dress code.”
“You don’t like the way I dress?”
“Love it.” He glides his finger along the scoop neckline of the simple, deep purple minidress I chose for today. “But I’ll be building that monument with the garments I tear off your body, so you’re going to need some.”
“Thirty racks. There must be five hundred outfits in there.” Despite myself, I flutter my lashes with a flirty eye roll. “You think pretty highly of yourself, Noire.”
“You saw the message on the mirror.” He waves his hand toward Axel’s office with a silent order for me to enter, only to move his lips to my ear when I do. “That’s just the first installment, Palmer.”
While I’m doubtful this will last, maybe I could muster the strength to enjoy a fling with him. If I end up getting put away, I’ll have some hot memories to keep me warm in my cell.
Decisions.
Axel’s home office is fit for a king—a massive city view, like they seem to have throughout the penthouse, with a warm lavishness.
And he certainly has a regal air to him.
It’s intimidating. But that is enhanced by the fact that it’s not only Axel and Cash.
All the brothers and Zara are waiting for me.
It makes the circle feel bigger than I tend to like, but I suppose trusting any of them would mean trusting all of them anyway.
Axel waves me to a chair in front of his desk. Jax and Maddox are on a couch. Zara and Ryker are in leather chairs like mine. And after Cash fixes me a cup of coffee, he sits in one beside me.
Once everyone is settled and the small talk and happy birthdays have died out, Axel dives in. “Cash didn’t want to give me too many details without you present. I know the crux of what you’re dealing with, but why don’t you catch me up on what’s going on?”
“Let’s start with what the expectation or payment for you helping me out will be,” I counter.
He lobs a subtle smirk at Cash before returning to me. “For others? A lot. For you, it’s covered.”
It’s evident by his tone that he believes that should settle it for me, but I need more.
“In my experience, there is always a payment, so while I appreciate that, I’d rather discuss it up front than find out later that I’m required to pull some other job or I’m indebted to you for life.”
“Smart.” Zara beams, but Cash and her husband both shoot her a look that says she’s not helping.
“None of that.” Axel gestures to his wife with a hint of adoration he can’t conceal. “Your apprehension is warranted, so Zara is correct to commend you for being diligent. But you get the friends-and-family discount. No strings.”
Cash leans closer, his eyes boring into me. “I’ve been trustworthy with everything so far, haven’t I?” When I nod, he tacks on, “No strings. For this.”
I don’t miss the suggestion that he might want strings for us, but all I say is, “Okay.”
Axel taps his desk—an unspoken command to return our focus to him. “You have a job coming up next week?”
“Actually”—I sip my coffee to calm my nerves—“I’m headed out tomorrow for that.”
Cash rests his arm on the top of my chair, his unwarranted frustration that I didn’t update him wafting over me with his citrus-and-suede cologne. “Why the change?”
“I’m entering with the carpet cleaners, and they moved the appointment up a weekend.”
Ryker has been rolling something around his palm, almost mindlessly, but he stops abruptly, an intensity radiating from him. “And the move is legit?”
The air instantly feels dense. They all showed up this morning in attack-dog mode. Ready to conquer.
“It appears to be.” I keep my face devoid of any anxiety, aiming to level the rest of them out. “I spent much of yesterday researching to be sure.”
Jax kicks his feet onto a coffee table, somehow managing to feed the tension with a lazy demeanor. “Who knows you’re using the cleaning company?”
“Only my employer, E.”
“A change shortly after you received that note? I don’t like it,” Cash practically growls, announcing his domineering declaration before he utters, “I’m going with you.”
Zara’s emerald eyes widen, as if to say, Introducing Daddy Cash.
“You’re not.” I pin him with a glower that warns him to shut up. “It’s fine. Every job has hiccups—like a relentless Noire showing up uninvited to be my plus-one. I don’t like repeating the same ones. I can handle this.”
His features harden to granite. “I go, or you don’t.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” My coffee sloshes up the sides of the cup with my exasperation, so he takes it out of my hand and downs a hefty swig before passing it back to me with his unyielding threat.
“Someone was at your apartment, Sly. And you’re employed by a man you don’t know the identity of. I’m unwilling to compromise your safety. Your mother would back me on this. I promised her I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I can lock you down here if I need to.”
“I wouldn’t fuck around with that,” Zara warns in a tone that leads me to believe this is something they’ve done before.
Panic takes root at the base of my throat. “This might be my only opportunity before the final job. I’m as good as dead if you prevent me from going.”
“I’m not preventing you,” he counters. “I’m escorting you.”
The room grows deathly silent while we engage in a standoff.
I am so pissed, and yet my heart is fluttering like a foolish hummingbird because his protectiveness feels like more.
Like not being alone. And like an aphrodisiac.
He’s either contemplating strangling me, cuffing me to him, or fucking me.
Maybe we could multitask later. After I complete my heist alone.
Axel tires of our deadlock and redirects. “Where is the final job?”
Grateful for the segue, I don’t hold back. “It’s at the Minds of Our Time retreat, hosted on a private island near the South of France.”
“Invitation only,” Jax pipes up, saying so much more than that simple phrase.
Everything about this event is hush-hush, but apparently, Jax has insider information.
“So, you’re after a historical artifact located there or something that one of the guests will have with them?
How are the jobs linked?” Axel probes, but he notices my reluctance to divulge the particulars.
He runs his hand through his ash-brown hair in mild aggravation.
“If I’m going to disentangle you, I need to have something to work with. ”
I’m cornered by all of them, but my gut tells me I’m safe here.
That’s not something I’ve ever felt with E, so I lay it all out.
“Beneath the main resort, there’s a storage bunker.
It houses documents—confidential ones. It also has a highly secure computer system, which requires a combination of physical keys and access codes to unlock it. ”
He taps a button on his watch, studying it for a beat. “You’re stealing the keys?”
I’m intrigued to see how they all respond to this—whether it’s about helping me or an eagerness to glimpse the prize—so I offer more. “And the information in the computer.”
“To what end?” Ryker jumps in, his icy blues swirling with hunger.
“I’m not sure what he wants with it. My debt is just that—a debt. I don’t get to ask what he’s spending it on.” I stall with another swill of my coffee. “But the information in that computer is worth … I’m guessing it’s priceless.”
Maddox twirls his balisong around with impressive skill, the blade catching the midday sunlight trickling into the room. “Any idea what it is?”
“I have some thoughts, but they’re all speculation. I’ve been given limited details, and my mother has been adamant that I keep it that way.”
“But you know who has the keys.” Axel’s sapphire eyes narrow. He’s contemplating something. “We can start with that.”
“What about how these people are connected?” Zara tries. “Have you found any links other than the keys?”
“No,” I sigh. “And I don’t think digging into them will give you much. The keyholders change every year. It’s another security measure. No one knows who’s been chosen.”
“Which makes it an unbelievable honor,” Maddox muses. His neck and hand tattoos make him appear so menacing, but even here, there’s a freeness about him—similar to Cash.
“Exactly,” I agree.
Ryker scratches his dark brown five-o’clock shadow. “How long have you been working on this?”
“About a year. Since before their last retreat.”
“Which was the changing of the guards, so to speak?” Axel surmises while dismissing a call on his phone.
“Yes.”
Cash rubs my arm, his face softer now, a blend of curiosity and maybe awe draping it. “How did you deduce who the keyholders were?”
“I stowed away on a guest’s yacht and used a coal chute to get into the resort. You can’t enter the current basement that way because the old room has been bricked up. But there’s a transom window that was never replaced. It gave me a view to the hallway leading to the bunker.”
While Cash appears to be fascinated, which is an undeniable boost to the ego, Axel doesn’t miss a beat.
“Do the keyholders know what they’re protecting?”
“Since they change every year, I doubt it.”
That catches Zara’s attention. “So, the people with the keys aren’t marks.” She rolls her lips in for a second, but before I can reply, she elaborates. “I used to be an assassin.”
“Oh,” is all I squeak out because when we met in San Francisco, she told me she’d been in a similar business to me, but the two professions are worlds apart.
Maybe that’s judgmental. I stuff down the shock and focus.
“Well, it’s just speculation. But based on the security measures, I’d guess the guys in charge keep plenty of secrets. ”
Axel dismisses another call on his phone and rises from his chair, rounding his desk to perch on the front of it. “Who are the guys in charge?”
“I’m not sure. The entire event is busting at the seams with upper-one-percent royalty. Most seem on the up-and-up. And I think they are. I think that’s the cover.”
“Hiding in plain sight.” He side-eyes his wife, like they’re sharing a secret.
“Yes,” I confirm. “The event already has an element of secrecy built into it, so they’re simply capitalizing on it.
But that means my handler could be anyone.
And the person in charge of whatever information I’m stealing could be a member of the Senate, a billionaire, a tech mogul, a top-tier celebrity, a wealthy housewife, or anyone in between. ”
Jax drops his feet, his elbows falling to his knees with interest. “What’s your plan … to enter the bunker?”
“It’s extensive.” I know they want more, but I’m getting antsy.
Cash clasps my free hand. “Just the thirty-thousand-foot view, and then we’ll get out of here.”
I exhale, eager for the reprieve. “It’s three days.
During dinner on the second day, the information is updated and keys are relinquished.
I considered getting an invite from Peter, but now I’ll be going in as a member of the catering staff—the back-of-house prep team so I don’t get recognized.
It allows me to enter the basement because there’s a wine cellar down there. ”
“Number of guards?” Zara asks.
“Four on the lower level, but the entire place will be swarming with security,” I provide, watching Ryker fiddle with his phone.
Tension has the walls pulsing as Maddox pockets his knife and poses the question on everyone’s lips. “And your plan to thwart them?”
“Diversion.” I take my coffee cup over to Axel’s office sink and rinse it, just so I don’t have to stare at the firing squad. “Either a bomb threat or an actual detonation in an unoccupied hallway of the resort—away from people, but enough to scare them.”
“Won’t some guards head straight for the system?” Ryker argues.
“Possibly, but I think most will protect the people.” I spin, overwhelmed because I’m not used to discussing every detail of my plans—not even E asks this much. “There will be so many high-profile leaders to shield, whereas the system has built-in security.”
Zara stands, letting me know she’s about to guide me out of here, even as she joins the interrogation. “Have you heard anything about the groups KORT or Kratos in these circles?”
“I don’t …” I search my memory for any recollection, but come up empty. “Not that I can remember.”
Another moment of silence descends upon us, and I can’t help but wonder if they know something I don’t or if they want a piece of whatever I’m going after.
Maddox lifts his vibrating cell, announcing, “Security.”
They all murmur that they’ve been getting similar calls, so Axel tells Maddox to take it.
“Yeah?” he clips, listening and grunting, “Fighting or fucking?” He hums in response to whatever is said. “It’s always anyone’s guess.”
“The Alvarados.” Cash shakes his head, filling me in. “One of our members and his wife are … passionate.”
“In one of the fountains,” Maddox supplies when he hangs up, and no one seems to find that bizarre.
This place is so freaking weird.
That brief respite did nothing to deter their focus though. All eyes land on me.
“You need a team,” Axel decides.
I knew that was where this was headed, and I feel like screaming, I work alone, but I refrain.
“I appreciate that so much. I’m sure you have countless members who could handle this with ease.
And maybe they’re fantastic people. But I don’t trust anyone.
I’d rather risk it alone than be taken down because someone threw me under the bus. ”
“Not our members,” Jax retorts. “Us. We’re your team.”