CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
SYLVIE
“Did you just give Peter Fairfax your goddamn phone number?” Cash sneers as soon as I meet him at the edge of the bar.
“I had my reasons, which I will explain. Soon.” I smooth my hands over his lapels, feeling Peter’s and E’s gazes burning into me. “But we both have places we need to be, and I have a call I need to make.” I stall for one more second, scratching my ear. “Nothing but chaos.”
He reads that loud and clear. The comms might have people listening, so don’t detail anything important.
His brows furrow, and his grip on my hip tightens. He’s concerned. Maybe he should be. I think we’ve got things all wrong, but riling him up will only derail our mission.
Instead, I rise on my toes and kiss his cheek. “I love you. I will never quit you.”
He presses me closer, and it’s warmth and roguery, stubble searing skin, and a pledge of protection. “Love you, baby. You’re my magic.”
His lips collide with mine in a fusion that is probably a tad more zealous than many of the other guests would display, but it fits with who we are. I block out everything else for fifteen glorious seconds and simply soak him in, concluding the union with a peck at the corner of his mouth.
“And you’re my magnum opus. I’m good.” It’s a false promise. My gut wrenches with the warning I want to scream. But our time is ticking, and I don’t want Cash to do something stupid.
I squeeze him once more and venture to the outside gardens, putting my sunglasses on, turning my mic off, and pulling my burner out of my purse when I reach a secluded stretch.
“Yeah?” E barks.
The midday sun caresses my skin and bathes the wisteria-draped stone walls and scattered wildflowers in a sanguine glow. It would be hopeful, if my circumstances didn’t render it haunting.
“It’s me.”
“New burner?” There is a hint of irritation in that query.
“With all the ups and downs, I thought it was best that I use something that hadn’t been on me for the previous jobs.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Smart. Are you in place?”
“On my way.” I pass through an arched wooden door on the cobblestone walkway, shut it, and follow the path. “I should be able to make the drop tonight. Can you be there by nine?”
“The elevator is moving fine,” Maddox reports into my earpiece, announcing that they’re on the lower level.
“That’s perfect. I’m leaving soon,” E answers into the other ear. “How are you getting there? You’re not having them escort you, right?”
I’m not sure why he’s so apprehensive about the Noires, so I breeze past it. “I’m taking the train. You picked a location right outside the station, so it makes it easy.”
“Good.” He hums, debating something. “No one will expect that, so you won’t be followed.”
I will my pounding heart to calm—the adrenaline of my impending raid is compounded by a whisper of something bigger than all of this. “Should I be worried about someone following me?”
“I don’t think so, but …” He pauses, likely deciding whether he benefits from sharing whatever he’s about to unleash. “The guards for the lower level are instructed to shoot to kill for a breach in that room.”
That effectively halts my steps. I stop cold, glaring at the stone walls encasing me, the quaint setting of French ambience and bright escapes, schemes and shackles. “That’s information that would have been useful earlier.”
“I just discovered it.” His tone conveys a blasé indictment. “And you said you had a plan to thwart the guards.”
“I do, but …” My lungs empty themselves. “Do the guards work for the resort, the convention, or the organization I’m stealing from?”
“The organization, so they will not hesitate.”
And neither will he. Maybe he’s planning to kill me as I exit the room and take the drive.
He could make it seem like the guards did it.
But why end me if I don’t even have a stake in this?
I have so many pieces, but I can’t seem to flip things the way I need to for them to fit into a complete picture.
I keep trekking toward the coal chute. “I spoke to one of the marks, and it left me unsettled. I know this is important to you, but I want to understand what I’m doing.”
He scoffs. “I’ve paid you enough for this job and past ones that those questions don’t apply.”
That’s not the first time he’s uttered that, but this is different.
“They do though. Because from what I gleaned, I’m taking something from a formidable organization, one that’s instructed to shoot to kill if someone attempts to obtain their information. So, what happens if they suspect I was involved? One of them knows my history. Do I survive past this, E?”
“Everything is in working order,” Jax chimes through the comm. “Time for a tasting.”
“Of course you survive,” E coos with the placid demeanor of a predator trapping his prey. “Because you are the best. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.” He waits a solitary beat before he drops the final statement as a warning and an order. “Finish the job.”
The line goes dead, and acid sloshes in my stomach. There’s no turning back though. I’ve got so many people roped into this with me, and I’m afraid to say too much over the comm.
Tessa meets me at the coal chute with my backpack of supplies. I had some things in my purse, but this is a prepared-for-anything bag. Even the material is fire-resistant and waterproof.
Tessa brings a unique skill set to the team.
She’s smart and quick on her feet, and the guests aren’t keeping tabs on her.
She’s the one who can melt into the background because she’s Maddox’s wife, but there aren’t expectations placed on her, like the Noire brothers.
Even Zara has more eyes on her since she’s married to Axel and he was the one invited. Tessa flies under the radar.
“Everything is set.” She takes my purse, drops a pair of barefoot running shoes on the ground, and hands me a rubber band.
I gesture for her to turn off her mic, and when she does, I pull my hair back into a ponytail and slip on the shoes. “I think the keyholders are part of Kratos. Not E.”
She digests that, but it’s evident a million questions that we don’t have time to address plague her, so she keeps it simple. “Why?”
I shake my head. “It was something Peter said about what he was a part of. I can’t make sense of it. I guess it could still be a similar group, but what are the chances that there’s a third group out there with a power he believes trumps the Noires?”
She blocks the glare of the sun. “Anything is possible at this point.”
“Maybe it was just a gut feeling, but he spoke about confidence in a quiet power and my father. And E wants something from them. I just thought …”
“Does it change anything about the immediate plan?” She’s asking if I’m unwilling to steal from Kratos.
Maybe I should be, but it’s not like I can walk away empty-handed. E claims he’s leaving, but I know he’s here, ensuring I’m following through. The only way to survive him is to finish this job my way.
“No, but I wanted you to know. In case …”
That has her flinching and ready to fight someone. I wrap her in a hug, breathing in her beachy coconut fragrance that seems too carefree for the woman who steers Maddox’s menacing energy with a glower of stern and playful annoyance. She’s fire and frustration in the most loyal package.
“In case what?” she grits out while wholeheartedly embracing me. “If you’re nervous, we should tell the guys.”
As if they were piping up to share their opinions, incessant laughter filters through the comm before Cash’s deep tenor declares, “Gotta go with the 1986 Bordeaux.”
“Eyes on all four tangos,” Gage announces, alerting me that the keyholders and E are being watched. “Proceed when ready.”
“We’re in too deep now,” I tell Tessa as I pull away and study her doll-like face, stuck on how she told me last night that she and Maddox were trying to get pregnant. “They need to stay where they are, and you should go back to the boat.”
“What?” Her turquoise eyes practically pop out of her head. “No.”
“Yes,” I insist, tossing my sunglasses into the backpack. “It’s more dangerous than I realized.”
“I’m more dangerous than you realize,” she counters, and her fierceness is something to behold. “Are you finishing this?”
My shoulders deflate with my resignation. “Yes.”
“Then so am I.” She flicks her mic back on, as if to tell me not to say another word unless I want to share it with the rest of the class. “I’ll be nearby, getting tea.”
In answer to her obstinance, I tell her something else. “You, Zara, and Mercy are the best girlfriends I’ve ever had.”
“Sisters,” she corrects, and because we both have deep wounds connected to that term, it lands as powerfully as she intended.
That’s enough.
My father’s perspective on life and crime flits through my mind. “The most valuable things to steal are freedom and time. But if you’re going to reach for something more, let it be for the sake of either family or prestige. Anything else is greed, and that leads to ruin.”
Time and freedom aren’t likely up for grabs, but I’ll take the gift of family.
Choking back my emotions, I nod and do what I came to do. I open the hatch on the ancient coal chute, stare down the metal slide, and drop myself into the enemy’s den.