Page 14 of Resurrection

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I’m shoeless, and I’ve always had a tendency to approach in silence. It’s instinct.

“No, no. That’s okay.” Her smile stretches across her face, not connecting with her dark-brown eyes. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up yet. Usually the smell has to get under her door before she’ll even open her eyelids.”

With my hands in my pockets, I saunter over to the island and ease onto a heavy wooden barstool. Carys has two paces in the morning. Up before the birds, making deals, or a cave dweller who only emerges for food.

“She’s not an early riser here?” I say.

Lena shakes her head, and she uses tongs to turn the bacon.

Glancing up at the balcony overlooking this room, I run my hand through my hair.Is he still up there?The thought turns my stomach.

“He’s gone.” Lena has her back to me as she grabs a plate from a cupboard behind her.

“That was quick.”

“Always is. He got what he came for.”

I’m sure I’ve grasped her meaning, but I say it anyway. “Which was?”

“Raise his leg to everything in sight and go home to screwing whoever he wants in Chicago.”

I snatch a piece of sizzling bacon from the pan and drop it in front of me when it burns my fingertips.

“Not a fan of Eric?”

“Are you?”

“The reason I don’t like him isn’t the reason you don’t like him.”

She raises a shaped eyebrow. “You might be surprised. Charles loves Eric, though, and I’ve heard he’s good at his job.”

“Can’t be too good if they’ve had a major theft.”

“He’s not in charge of that region,” Carys says, from behind me. “And you’re right, Lena, my father loves him. They’re very similar.”

I’m not the only one who can make a stealthy approach. Twisting in my seat, with difficulty, I catch a glimpse of her standing in the entranceway in an oversized men’s dress shirt. If it’s not his, she wants me to think it is. Her point wears thin on my patience.

“That’s what you’re wearing today?” I ask.

Lena cracks the eggs and drops them into the frying pan.

“With the right belt, it would do in a pinch.” Carys wanders over to the couches and takes a seat. The furthest spot from me she can choose.

“Lots of room at the island,” I say.

“I’m fine over here,” she replies.

I purse my lips in irritation and catch Lena smiling. “It’s not fucking funny.”

Lena’s grin widens. “It kind of is.” She flips the eggs and raises the spatula in one hand while the other perches on her cocked-out hip. “I hear you’re stuck over in this area now.”

Scowling, I snatch another slice of bacon. This time the piece isn’t too hot, and I take a big bite.

“Fucking FBI.”

“At least it’s not the CIA,” Carys says from the couch. “Domestic, not international.”

---