Page 129 of House of Lies

“For God’s sake, Smith, try not to kill anyone!” Myles mutters as the Bentley weaves in and out of traffic.

Smith says nothing, which is fine with me, because I’d rather he concentrate on not colliding with anyone.

“So Cordelia shows up at the Den with a pair of black opal earrings,” Rich continues, despite the interruptions and squeal of tires. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He taps my leg. “The earrings, not Cordelia. Well, she looked hot as shit too, but those earrings, man?—”

“Rich,” Myles snaps.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck. So I’m checking out her earrings, and she tells me they’re a gift from Barrett—that’s her new husband. So I ask Barrett where the hell he found them, because man, they’re fucking beautiful. I mean, you’ve seen the necklace.”

I stare at Myles in the rear-view mirror. He pointedly rolls his eyes and then cringes as Smith veers around a plumbing van.

“And Barrett said Angelo had sold him the earrings? Earrings you think belonged to Cassidy’s mother because they match her necklace?”

Rich stabs a finger into my thigh. “Exactly!” He holds up that same finger. “Which you would have known if Angelo had told you about the sale!”

There’s a beat of silence in the car until Smith slams on the Bentley’s brakes and curses under his breath as a dump truck slowly crosses the intersection in front of us.

“You’re all blowing this out of proportion.”

“Are we?” Smith turns in his seat, giving me a hard stare. “When he took over your clients, I assume he was still supposed to report back to you? Keep records of all his deals? That kind of thing?”

“Yes, but?—”

“So why the hell didn’t you know about those earrings?” Rich asks. “That’s not something you’d easily forget. They would have cost Barrett a fortune.”

My mouth opens and closes until I manage a pathetic, “So he hid a deal from me.”

“Real question is, what else has he been hiding from you?” Myles says quietly from the passenger seat as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He checks the screen, clicks his tongue. “Troy just arrived at his house. Angelo’s not there.”

I’m pressed back into my seat as Smith speeds through the intersection. The Bentayga’s engine growls, and I’m not sure if it’s just the powerful machine vibrating through my body, or if it’s rage.

Deals have slipped through the cracks before. I never thought much of it, because I was more passionate about matching gems with buyers than the actual sale itself, especially after I started working at the Devil’s Den.

Angelo was always about the money. He’d cost us deals before because he wouldn’t negotiate between the parties. Did Angelo meet with Rebecca? If he did, then he should have notified me, especially if it resulted in a sale.

But that just proves he cut me out of a deal. Which doesn’t explain why the hell Smith is driving like a fucking lunatic.

Unless…

“Wait a minute. You think he had something to do with Rebecca’s disappearance?” I address the question to everyone in the car.

“Possible,” Myles says. “Never liked him. Shifty eyes.”

“You think he kidnapped her?” The last thing I want to do is accuse my friend of being a criminal. It shouldn’t matter, not when I’m in a car surrounded by fucking criminals, but somehow it does.

Smith shakes his head. “There was no mention of a ransom demand in the police file. I don’t think she was kidnapped.”

“So what are you saying?”

Smith decelerates, then comes to a gentle stop. The engine ticks as it cools, a hush filling the cab.

“We’re here.”

We all turn to look up at the office block.

Me and Angelo moved our offices here three years ago, after our lease expired. I met Donald Parker, my realtor, when he leased our old office for his budding real estate company.

Despite the late hour, several of the offices still have their lights on.

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