Page 10 of The Twilight Theft

Uninterested, I eyed the white box. There were six profiteroles left. Did I want more? Or did I want something else? What was in the staff kitchen? Did I have time for a bagel? “Any idea how much longer we’ll be, Scarlett?”

She cocked her eyebrow.

God, I hated that eyebrow.

It wasBe patientmixed withDo you seriously need more food?and a hint ofSit still for a minute. Maybe a littleI have no idea, but my mother will kill us both if we leave.

I swiped some cream stuck to the side of the box and licked it off my finger.

Just as Evelyn walked through the door.

Followed byhim.

Drew.

And I totally had pastry cream on my face.

Chapter 4

Drew

Anear-emptybakeryboxsat in front of Jayce, who was hastily licking something from her finger and the corner of her mouth.

Chaos.

Personified.

“Drew, good to see you again.” Evelyn’s voice was a purr, always smooth and controlled. I wouldn’t have said I liked the Reynolds matriarch—more that I respected what she’d built. A team devoted to rectifying the wrongs of others. Despite that goodness, she exuded a special kind of power. Hidden—like a snake bearing its belly so you thought it was dead—but it was watching and waiting for the opportunity to strike.

“And you.” Instead of sitting in the seat she gestured to, I walked past two chairs and stopped beside Jayce, who swiveled to look up at me. I held out my hand, palm up.

From the way she met my gaze, her light brown eyes flickering with mischief, it was clear I didn’t have to tell her what I wanted. She placed another finger in her mouth, sucking the residue off it. Without a word, she bounced out of her chair and headed past me to a corner of the office, opened a zipper on a suitcase, and returned to place my phone in my hand. “Thanks for saving me the shipping cost.”

There were many things I wanted to say to her. Cuss her out for taking it, congratulate her on how seamlessly she’d done it, or tell her she wasn’t welcome on this job. I pushed it all into my mental locker—along with the way my gut had tightened when she licked her finger—and took the seat next to her.

Jayce rocked back and forth on the chair. “How’d you get here so fast?”

That was the part of my conversation with Craig and Gideon I’d missed while I was busy fuming about my phone. One of the Tremaine Industries private jets was ready for me the moment we finished. I’d only had enough time to pack an overnight bag. “I flew.”

“You get your watch?”

I pulled up my suit jacket’s sleeve for her to see.Don’t get drawn into another snarking match. I looked at Evelyn. “Do you have the files I sent?”

She nodded and tapped on a tablet in front of herself. All eyes turned to the television at the far end of the room, which displayed a 3D mock-up of the housing around Gideon’s data chip. A specification list appeared next to it, including its size and weight. Two inches square, weighing four-hundredths of a pound.

“This is—”

A knock on the door cut me off.

“Come,” said Evelyn.

A tall, broad, haunted-looking man came in first. His dark, shaggy hair brushed his black golf shirt’s collar, long enough to pronounce he was done with the military life, but short enough to say it wasn’t fully behind him. Rav LaPierre, the head of Reynolds Recoveries security. He nodded at me and took a seat on the far side of the table.

A blond man followed him, wearing a white Oxford shirt, casually unbuttoned at the neck.

“Malcolm Sharpe?” I stood, approaching him with an extended hand. “What are you doing here?”

He was a private investigator based in New York, the last I knew. Bishop and Associates had hired him for a few jobs over the years. He took my hand and pulled me in to clap my shoulder. “You already know the rest of the team?”

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