Page 6 of The Company We Keep

The morning seemedto come too quickly.

They didn’t bother with breakfast, both still full from the late-night order of pizza, the stupidly expensive bottle of champagne. They’d wolfed down the meal with the type of appetite that only seemed real after a night of adrenaline.

Carrow and Dust slipped into fresh clothes, trashing the things they’d worn to pull off the heist the night before.

They paused for just a moment, Carrow retrieving the little bag of diamonds and spreading them out on his palm. They caught the morning sunlight, and the rocks that were cut and polished blazed in a million impossible colors.

It was odd to think how much wealth was suspended there in the man’s hand, and at the same time to realize that it didn’t begin to touch the sort of lucre that Carrow ultimately had amassed. Finally, he closed his fist and deposited the diamonds back in their bag, tucking it neatly into his suit.

Carrow’s new dark suit fit him perfectly, and Dust pondered the fact as he brushed his teeth and watched the man finish preparing for the day. Did the hotel keep a tailor on call 24/7? It wouldn’t surprise him, considering how often he and Carrow showed up at odd hours with no change of clothes.

When Dust was dressed too — pulling on a perforated motorcycle jacket that was a little too small but still just his style — Carrow caught him by the waist and pressed a kiss into the corner of his mouth.

“Are you ready to go home and count some bullion?”

“Do youcountgold bars or weigh them?” Dust teased.

“Don’t be pedantic, kid.”

Carrow laid out a big cash tip for the housekeeping team, and they made their way to the lobby.

It was a brilliantly bright morning in Las Abras, and while the high-ceilinged lobby had been empty the night before, the first floor of the boutique hotel bustled with new arrivals and departures that morning. Every surface seemed polished, reflecting the sunshine and bouncing the chatter of families on vacation, executives in town for work.

There was no need to check out. The concierge knew to bill everything to Carrow’s account — knew that every charge would be settled as soon as it was reported. Carrow was nothing if not a conscientious and generous guest... Especially when he was coming off of a successful job with Dust by his side.

Dust felt oddly proud as they strode through the lobby and passed the families, the office workers. He had found something better than a family, and a career that surpassed the type of wealth and satisfaction that most executives dreamed of.

Their future lay before them, better than gold bars.

“Charlie?”

The name bubbled up from the noise around them. Dust and Carrow kept walking.

“Hey — Charlie Judge, right?”

Some part of Dust buried deep in the back of his head lurched to life. There was a woman in a neat suit walking towards him, getting directly in their path. She had short black hair and a straight-toothed smile.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you since back at Abe,” she said, approaching with arms out as if to hug him. Dust tucked his chin and stepped back. Carrow slowed his pace, ready to put himself between Dust and the stranger if necessary. Dust could tell just by the other man’s posture that he was alert, already treating the woman as a threat.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Dust said, his mind going in a thousand directions at once. His heart thudded in his chest and he willed it to slow. He shook his head.

“We were in the same class back at the Bureau before I dropped out,” she said, sounding apologetic and extending a hand. “Cheryl Gilchrest.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cheryl,” Dust said, shaking her hand, forcing his voice to be casual, willing himself to laugh like the entire situation was absurd. “But I’m afraid you’re thinking of someone else.”

She cut her eyes at him.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. What the hell was Gilchrest doing on the West Coast? Why the hell was she approaching him like this? If she’d spent even the first day at AIIB, she ought to know todrop this now.

“I’m sorry,” she said, dropping his hand and flushing with embarrassment. “You look just like my friend Charlie. Sorry to bother you.”

“Hey, no problem,” he said. “I just have one of those faces.” He stepped around her in a movement that was probably too fast — and Christ, now he was overanalyzing everylittle thing. How fast was too fast to exit the lobby without looking guilty? Was he supposed to laugh about that with Carrow or pretend to be suspicious? Could the man at his side detect how hard his heart was beating, how adrenaline was dumping into his system?

They stepped out into the heat and Dust was immediately thankful for it. The temperature would provide a neat excuse for the cold sweat he’d fallen into.

“Abe Agent Charlie Judge,” Carrow said, forming his mouth around the words carefully.

Dust’s entire world tilted on its axis.

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