Page 118 of Three of a Kind

“I’m starting to get a little concerned,” Locke says, folding his copy of the schematics he’s holding. “It’s not like Bless to flake out when she says she’ll be somewhere.”

Soren rolls his blue eyes. “The employees of the dress shop wouldn’t be comforted by her excuses.”

“To be fair, you could have stood in the back parking lot or alleyway,” Ranger says without raising his gaze from the plans on the table. “Isn’t Ivanov’s replacement supposed to be here by now?”

“He is making a statement,” Soren says blandly. “Much like I would do if forced to a meeting I wanted no part of.”

Maverick snorts, scratching Nova’s blocky head.

The door we all enter and exit through opens and closes. Two sets of footsteps come our way, and Haze runs around the couch to check who it is.

Bless comes in first, and Stacia is right on her heels.

“Everyone gets one,” she says, tossing a huge yellow envelope at Locke before moving to Ranger and Soren. She carefully skirts around Maverick and drops one to him.

I stretch out a hand to grab mine and frown as I unfold the closure tongs.

“Remind me to never count your word as truth,” Ranger says drolly. “Your inability to show up when you said you would cost multiple people their lives today.” He yanks open his envelope and reaches inside. “What am I looking at?”

Only Ranger could casually blame her for the deaths of five innocent people and half a second later dismiss that to continue on with business as usual.

“What?” Bless hisses.

“There was a hiccup at the dress shop. Things did not go according to plan,” Soren says, flipping through the printed pictures Bless just supplied to each of us.

“Shit,” Stacia whispers, squatting down to pet Nova as she watches her girlfriend carefully.

“There were three of you,” Bless accuses, staggering over to take a seat on the only free chair. Stacia immediately stands and walks over before climbing into Bless’s lap.

“Mistakes were made all around,” Ranger says. “Now, explain how you got these pictures.”

Bless exhales heavily, wrapping her arms around Stacia. “I was called and given thirty minutes’ notice to show up at the rehearsal. The bride wasn’t even in attendance.”

“Was the Manzo family patriarch?” Soren asks without looking up. It takes me several seconds to realize he means the bride’s father.

I focus back on the pictures in my hand. It’s easy to guess they’re of Avan’s mansion. I’m not sure how Bless took these without being noticed, but Avan and other Barrett family members are in the background. There are also pictures of windows and exterior doors.

“Yes,” Bless says after a pause. “That took time. Then I had to find somewhere to have the pictures printed. I wanted to line them up with the house plans to give you an actual view of what we’ll be walking into.”

“Who is going to stay with Brooklyn and Libby?” I ask, because it’s been a constant concern that keeps rearing up in my mind every few hours.

“Stacia and Noble?” Bless offers. “I have several women I trust who I know wouldn’t sell me out for any amount of money. I planned to have at least two of them in the house and a few more guarding the exterior of the townhouse.”

“Noble isn’t going to like that,” Maverick says, grimacing.

“He’s still not up to one-hundred-percent,” Locke says mindlessly as he carefully studies each picture.

Damn.

These photographs are of his family home. The one he thought he would inherit as he ruled the family business.

That has to be a mindfuck.

“Then, the three of you can hash it out in a voracious game of rock-paper-scissors, for all I care,” Bless says.

Someone rings the doorbell and bangs on the door in quick succession.

Soren sighs. “It seems Ivanov’s replacement has finally deemed it time to join the party.”

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