CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE #3
“There’s a strong case to be made that he threw the last few NHL games because Peter Fairfax had money riding against him,” Axel supplies, “but nothing pertaining to who Peter is connected to.”
I deliver coffee, fruit, and a pastry to Sylvie, pushing her list away so she takes a break to refuel since her stress level has been rising. “Peter is going to be suspicious about seeing all of us there after Sylvie and I were at his party, so whoever his associates are might be watching.”
“Then we need to throw him off.” Jax flips a sheet over, sparing Sylvie and me a brief glance. “Controlled chaos.”
“Yes,” Axel sighs in agreement. “And we’ll make decisions about everyone else after our first night there.”
“We’re going in blind,” Sylvie hisses under her breath, though I think I’m the only one who hears her.
“Eat something, please.” I plant a kiss on her temple and nudge the plate.
“Once we’re there, I can gauge tells.” When her eyes flit up to me, I use the cockiness that both weakens her knees and annoys her to ease her concerns.
“No one reads a room like I do. We’ve got a whole night to study them.
I can narrow down who’s there for duplicitous reasons in the first hour. ”
“I bet you can get us a strong take.” Axel swills his Glenfiddich 30 Year. “I’m sure we’ll all see a lot through simple observation. This could be the peek into Kratos’s network that we need.”
Ryker rolls his dice on the table. “What about the staff?”
“Oh, yes.” Sylvie tinkers with her laptop and casts it on the conference room screen. “These five employees have key cards on them at all times that access the elevator to the lower level. Once we have the codes, we need these too.”
“So”—Tessa highlights a name on her sheet—“we’re trying to figure out who might have an interest in what’s happening on the lower level and who to avoid on our way out?”
“Yeah.” Sylvie finally breaks off a piece of her croissant. “I assume the reason E didn’t want the drop to be there was as much about being caught by security as it was by the other group.”
Axel rubs his jaw in deliberation. “Maybe who we need to worry about most is E.”
Two days before we’re set to leave, I wake up to Sylvie not in bed, so I shuffle out of my room and wander around the penthouse. Eventually, I find her and Remy in the kitchen, light streaming in from the skylights and windows to shower them in a warm honey glow that frames the scene perfectly.
They’re cutting dough together at the kitchen island.
“Thanks for helping me make these this morning.” Sylvie’s voice carries a strange mix of joy and pain. “I used to make cinnamon rolls with my dad. My mom likes the kind from a can, which are good too. Easier, but not as fun.”
“We have chefs,” Remy announces as he takes a few of the circles Sylvie has cut and sets them in a dish.
He’s sitting on the counter next to the cutting board, his heel kicking the black cabinet repeatedly with a thump that escorts their chitchat.
“But I make pancakes with Daddy sometimes. And other stuff too.”
“That’s amazing. Your dad is pretty cool.” Sylvie beams. “So is your mom. And you’re going to be a big brother soon.”
“That’s why they’re sleeping,” the nearly six-year-old says with the wisdom of a twenty-six-year-old.
“I bet.” She laughs and directs him to put the last of the rolls in the dish. “They should sleep now.”
“Uncle Axel said that too. ’Specially since you’re all going away.”
She cleans the cutlery. And when he finishes transferring the last roll, she wipes his hands with a dish towel. “These have to rise for about an hour, but if you’re hungry, I can make you something else.”
She’s so natural with him. She’d be such a good mom.
He stares at her with the sweetest expression of wonder. “Are you coming back?”
She lifts her chin, taking him in for a long beat, and I know this woman so well at this point that the war inside her head is echoed in mine.
She’s thinking about the consequences we discussed and the stakes of what we’re trying to pull off.
And she’s probably remembering how she believed her dad would come home, but never did.
Finally, she swallows and cups his chin. “There’s nothing I want more.”
“Good.” He pulls the ace of hearts out from behind her head. “Wanna play cards?”
Christ, I fucking love that kid. He’s already got moves. I wish I could record this, but I left my phone in my room.
“Remy Noire.” Her jaw falls slack, marvel and joy lining her features. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Uncle Cash is magic.”
“He really is.” Her teeth sink into her lip, and her eyes well with tears as she pulls him in for a hug. “And so are you.” After a final squeeze, she releases him and holds out her palm, so he smacks the deck he was hiding in it. “What else did he teach you?”
“Everything,” he gloats, hopping off the island and peering up at her. “It’s okay. I’ll teach you too. ’Cause you’re coming back.” He swaggers to the dining room table, taking a seat and declaring his reasoning. “The house always wins.”
Even the youngest resident Noire knows she’s home.