Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
brIAR
I watch as River sets the platter on the counter.
That she pauses to do even that seems like a freaking miracle, considering her flurry of movements over the last twenty minutes.
But dinner is cooked.
The house is spotless…or as spotless as it can be with a litter of kittens who have an influx of toys, supplemented all the more by Thorn’s additions.
“Well,” she says, brushing her hands on her pants. “I’ll just head out.”
“Why don’t you stay and eat with us?” I ask.
“Thanks for the offer, sweetheart, but I’d better be getting home.”
My eyes flick to Thorn.
He’s still standing in the kitchen, still holding Violet, who’s curled up against his chest.
But he doesn’t say anything as River bustles toward the front door, grabbing her coat and purse and disappearing through the front door.
He does, however, kiss the top of Violet’s head before setting the kitty down on her feet and following River into the hall.
Without another word.
I turn to Brooks, lift my brows.
He just shrugs. “I guess it’s dinner only for the two of us?”
Grinning, I grab some plates and utensils and we make short work of dishing up the delicious food that River made, despite my best efforts to drop it on the floor.
It’s quiet, almost strange, and I realize I’ve gotten used to the revolving door of Brooks’s friends in the apartment—the rapid-fire conversations, the laughter and stories, Pascal materializing from the shadows with updates about his efforts to track down the Lyon family and whoever they’re working with.
Updates that have brought less than the desired result.
Namely because I’d love for some fictional god to appear and smite them off the face of the Earth, never to bother me or Brooks or any of us ever again.
And also because…I need to get the hell out of this apartment.
I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize what everyone’s working toward, not going to put myself in danger.
But I am going a little insane just living here, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Now that I’m not worried about where my next meal is coming from or whether I’ll be able to afford my apartment, I need a purpose.
I want to do normal things—go to the grocery store, walk through the park, have dinner in a restaurant.
And I want to live without worrying about when the next letter will show up, if it’ll slip through the precautions that Pascal and his team have put in place, what will happen to Brooks if I don’t do what they want.
“Did Pascal find anything?” Thorn had discovered a targeted email campaign at his company and Pascal had put his team on trying to track down where they’d originated from.
“Only that they were sent from France.”
Where Jean-Michel, Brooks, Jace and Thorn all have homes and business ties.
Where the Lyon family has the same.
It seems freaking obvious, but they’re good at what they do, great at covering their tracks.
“It’s the USB,” I say.
He takes the two plates, sets them on the pair of placemats River laid out. “Baby, you need to stop beating yourself up about that. Chrissy knows and Pascal says it was clunky and wouldn’t have worked as you were instructed anyway.”
“That’s something else that bugs me.”
He snags a bottle of wine from the fridge, two glasses from the cabinet. “Why?”
“Because every other time I did a job for them, it was…” I trail off because I don’t really know what to say.
Not effective, necessarily. Things went wrong and I made plenty of mistakes throughout those years on my own.
Mistakes I paid for—physically and otherwise.
Over time I had to learn to do reconnaissance, however effective it was.
I already knew how to blend in, that part was easy since I spent my childhood trying to hide in plain sight, not wanting to face the wrath of my grandfather.
So I suppose, even though there were challenges, it always felt more put together.
I had more time. It was thought out.
I wasn’t breaking into my ex’s home with three days’ notice, infiltrating a winery event mere days after that.
And then there’s the fact that the USB wouldn’t have worked like I was told it would.
I shake my head because that matters.
And it doesn’t.
“That’s not the drive I’m talking about.” I take a breath. “I mean the one from your safe.”
His face gentles. “There was nothing on there that’s important, baby. Yes, I did what I thought was right to keep you safe over the last five years—and yeah, some of it definitely bordered on illegal and wrong—”
He’d already told me about paying the blackmail, about signing over the business and houses to the Lyons.
“—but the companies I kept are clear of anything unlawful,” he says. “And all of that happened after my father died, so he wouldn’t have been able to document it, even if he wanted to.”
“I get that it wouldn’t hurt you today—or not much, anyway.
” I nibble at the corner of my mouth. “But it could have hurt your father when he was alive…and I guess I’m thinking that if that’s true, it also could have hurt anyone else who was involved in his businesses at that time—especially the bad ones you distanced yourself from. ”
I pause, waiting for him to say something.
But he just stares at me, his eyes gone wide.
Then he bursts to his feet.
“Time to call Pascal?” I ask.
He nods, pulls out his phone.
And makes the call.
I finish packing up the leftovers, make sure the kitties are settled in for the night, then glance down the hall.
Pascal is in Brooks’s office and has been there a while.
And maybe I should let them continue to talk. I don’t know all that was on the drive. I don’t have it any longer. And truly, I don’t even know if it is important—though, I have to presume it is considering that the powers that be went through the trouble of having me steal it.
Still, I may be completely off base.
But I don’t think so.
And I don’t want Brooks to have to deal with this alone.
Space and time. Patience and kindness. And love, so much love it burned through my veins like lava when he left, bubbled like champagne during our happy moments, and now flows like a raging river, swollen from the snowmelt as I walk down the hall.
Love that never faded. Need that never waned. Peace that I can only find with him by my side.
I approach the door, lifting my hand to knock.
But it’s slightly ajar, their voices drifting out into the hall.
And what I hear Pascal say is a bucket of icy water dumped over my head.
“I still think you’re making a mistake by not leaving.”
But what Brooks says in return is worse.
“Maybe you’re right.”