Page 19 of Queen's Ransom

Celia closed her eyes and swayed lightly at the touch, letting it ground her as memories flitted through her mind. “There was always a bad vibe there.” She opened her eyes again. “But last year he started skulking around the shop more, asking when Dex was gonna be back. I’d tell him never, but he didn’t believe me. He knows Dex’s MO too.”

Helena removed her hand, and Celia instantly missed her touch. Shifting, Helena pulled out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, then laid the phone on the table in front of Celia. “Do you recognize him?” She stretched her arm across the top of the booth behind Celia. Boxing her in but comforting, unlike how Dex used to use the same position to intimidate her. “Was he ever with Lenny at the shop?”

Celia examined the picture of the dark-eyed, dark-haired, suited man. He looked like an extra straight out of American Psycho. Good thing for him the eighties were coming back in style. “Never seen him. Who is he?”

“His name’s Francis Ferriello,” Chris said. “Goes by Frank. Lenny’s been hanging out with him lately. Not a good guy.”

“Figures, if Lenny’s hanging out with him. And the August you mentioned earlier, he’s related to Frank?”

“Augustus, technically, but never call him that to his face.” Helena swiped her finger across the screen. “Frank’s estranged older brother.”

Handsome, in a gruff sort of way. His brown eyes were a shade lighter than his brother’s, his brown hair a shade darker and sprinkled with gray, and if Celia had to guess from the worn jeans and frayed Henley he wore, August hadn’t donned a suit in years. Someone she’d remember. “I’ve never seen him either.”

“You probably wouldn’t anyway,” Helena said. “He’s a master thief. He’s not doing his job right if you see him.”

“Like an Ocean’s-level thief?”

Helena smiled. “Better than.”

“So not likely him yesterday?”

She shook her head and swiped her finger across the screen again. “What about this guy?” A shiver raced up Celia’s spine, noticeable enough Helena again laid a hand on her back and slid her leg next to Celia’s under the table. “You recognize him?”

Celia picked up the phone and peered at the man onscreen, making sure he was the same one she remembered. He was a bit older than them with a round face, beady black eyes, and blond hair. A striking, unsettling combination, especially with the naked malice that swirled in the stranger’s dark gaze. In the picture and in Celia’s memory of him. Same guy, and the same shiver Celia had experienced both times he’d visited the shop. “I didn’t catch his name, which is why I didn’t put him on my list.”

“I added him,” Chris said. “He and Dex crossed paths.”

“He came by the shop—twice—with Lenny.”

Chris jolted forward. “He was with Lenny?”

Celia nodded. “Who is he?”

Helena removed the phone from her shaking hand. “That’s what I’m going to find out tonight.”

Celia whipped her gaze to the side, worry cascading through her. “He’s dangerous. I don’t know how I know it, but I do.”

Helena caught a stray tendril that had come loose from Celia’s ponytail and tucked it behind her ear, her hand lingering close enough Celia could feel the warmth. It was a powerful antidote to the chilly words Helena spoke. “Good thing I am too.”

Chapter Eight

“Mom! Emergency! HALP!”

Celia lifted her torso off the bench press and eyed her daughter standing at the opening to the basement gym. Mia looked a tired, bedraggled mess as she juggled her phone and the ends of the comforter wrapped around her shoulders.

“What’s going on?” All had been quiet upstairs when she’d given up trying to sleep and had come downstairs to work out. She was too keyed up knowing Chris, Helena, and Hawes were out there doing something dangerous.

“Holt needs you,” Mia said. “Lily’s pitching a fit. I called up and offered to help but he said he could handle it.” She cinched the comforter tighter and stared at the mats like she wanted to pass out right there. “Narrator, he can’t. I tried to text you from upstairs.”

Celia stood from the bench, checking the floor on either side and then the top of the mini fridge. No phone. “Sorry, I must have left my phone in the kitchen.” She grabbed a towel and wiped down her face and arms. “He’s all the way upstairs?”

Mia nodded. So Holt had wanted to keep Mia out of the lair—Celia would have to thank him—but he was also too worried to let Lily out of his sight. Or too busy to hand her off. Mom emergency was right.

Celia nudged Daisy off her hoodie on the floor, shrugged the sweater on, and zipped it. “Let’s go,” Celia said, giving Mia a gentle push up the stairs. Celia followed, Daisy at her heels. “Tell me what the crying sounded like.”

“Kind of watery,” Mia said, then made a gurgling noise. “Not her usual ‘I’m hungry’ or ‘I want attention’ cries.”

They crested the stairs and ran directly into Tulip and Marco, the latter of whom was similarly wrinkled and bleary-eyed. “Make it stop,” he groaned.

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