Page 115 of Gilded Saint

“Are they under surveillance?”

“No. Although the Swiss authorities inquired about Sloane testifying.”

Sloane unwittingly uncovered a scam at her company, and she and Sage became targets by those attempting to keep it under wraps. That had been a challenging time for me to be deep undercover.

“Is she going to testify?”

“She agreed. If needed. But I’m not sure it will happen. The lead architect of the scheme was released on home arrest awaiting trial and recently committed suicide,” Jack says.

That gets my attention. “Legit suicide? Not staged?” Staged would mean someone is still out there keeping things under wraps.

“A security camera in his home office captured the moment. A housekeeper found him within minutes.”

There’s not much to say. It wasn’t my case, but I’m glad the bastards who came after my sister are no longer sharing our air.

“So, my sisters are in the clear, right? You aren’t still monitoring them, are you?” All those surveillance photos Nomad showed me come to mind. “How’d you learn about the shower? Knox?” That would make sense. Knox works with these guys, and it’s his first child.

“I received an invitation,” Jack says, shifting in his seat, as if taking offense to my question. “We’re all close.”

Close enough to cross the country for what will probably last about an hour? I can’t imagine my youngest sister, Sage, doing anything extravagant. She’d probably have her friends over for cupcakes or whatever one eats at a baby shower.

“Knox made it clear he didn’t expect us to attend,” Jack says, as if sensing my incredulity. “Ava and I sent a present. But we’re all close. We became closer after…”

Jack lets his voice trail. Yes, there’s no need to dredge that up. I thank god daily it all worked out and my sisters are safe.

“There’s a reason for me bringing this up.” Women’s voices pass through the closed doors, and there’s a soft rap. “Come on in,” Jack says.

Ava, Jack’s wife, stands at the door, hand on the knob. Willow—I’ve got to start thinking of her as Lily—remains in the hallway. “Sophia and Fisher arrived.” She pushes the door wider.

Jack comes around the desk and hugs his daughter. She’s his daughter from his first marriage and must be in her late twenties or early thirties. She graduated from college and entered the FBI directly through a special program, but she’s CIA now, as is her husband, Fisher. He and I shake hands.

Whereas I went deep undercover, these two specialize in quick undercover projects that carry substantial risk. They helped rescue my sister and even met with me once to assure me in person my sisters were a priority.

“Good to see you both,” I say as I shake Sophia’s hand.

“Lily and I are going to take a walk along the ocean. What time do you think you’ll be done? I was thinking we could make reservations at a restaurant downtown so she can get a feel for the city at night. She hasn’t been to San Diego before,” Ava says.

Jack checks his watch. “We’ll be done in another hour or two, tops. I’m down with going out to eat. Are you?” It takes me a second to realize he’s asking me.

“That works.” I make eye contact with Lily to gauge her exhaustion level.

Ava set her up with a hairstylist this morning, and her hair has been blown out to perfection. I doubt the near black color of her locks is her natural color, but I was right that a dark color is a stunning combination with her magnetic blue eyes. And she is a magnet. She walks in a room, and I’m pulled to her. I don’t want to look anywhere or be anywhere else.

“I’d love to,” my wife says, understanding my unspoken question.

Ava smiles and pulls the door closed, taking my wife with her and leaving us to our meeting.

I’d hoped Ryan, Jack’s Arrow Tactical Security partner, would make it down, but he got caught up on a different project. When we drive through Santa Barbara, he’s invited us to stay over and has given us a choice of staying at his home or at one of the corporate apartments Arrow maintains near the office.

With so many of us in the office, we resettle at a round table that’s off to the side. Jack’s office overlooks a covered deck with direct views of the Pacific Ocean.

“Where were we?” Jack asks himself. He raps a knuckle against the table. “Oh, yes. The baby shower. Interpol will be in attendance. That’s why I brought it up.”

I crack my knuckles, waiting to hear the reason Interpol needs to be at my sister’s baby shower, and yes, I’m bracing for the worst.

“Nomad,” Jack says in explanation. “Your sisters know him as Tristan Voignier.”

My gut has trusted Nomad for years, although if he rushed my exit with Willow—er, Lily—in tow, I’ll have some words for him. “How did he become friends with Sage?”

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