Page 66 of Prodigal Son

“It’s two o’clock,” Miles said.

“So maybe they’re at lunch.”

“Everyone all together? I dunno.”

Damn it, he needed to get in there and see what was actually happening. The girls were savvy, but would they look for the same things he would? The little damning details? Were they as cynical as he was? They certainly weren’t as well-versed in committing crimes.

He bit his lip a moment, deciding, and then eased back from the edge.

“What are you doing?” Miles asked.

“I’m going in.”

~*~

The conference room didn’t look like any of the others Axelle had seen in her life; in fact, it shared some qualities with Baskerville Hall. Rather than a utilitarian table with leather ergonomic chairs, a long, high-gloss cherry dining table with ornately carved legs dominated the room, crouched beneath an elaborate chandelier, this one composed of hanging glass panels. Very seventies-chic. The chairs, the same cherry as the table, heavy, hard to move, with clawed feet, boasted plum-colored velvet seats that matched the curtains.

It was lavish. It was strange.

Clive, who struck her as the sort of silver spoon, moneyed man who genuinely believed the world was as wonderful as his own personal sphere, pulled out their chairs for them and went around to sit opposite Raven. All his attention was on her, and why wouldn’t it be? It gave Axelle a chance to palm her phone and type out a quick text beneath the cover of the table.

1stfloor conference room. She fired it off to Albie and then settled in to play the dutiful assistant.

She probably would have looked better organized and professional if she’d taken notes on a tablet. But now, she pulled out a small notepad, pen, and, tucked into the notebook’s spirals, the tiny camera Miles had given her earlier. She flicked the side of it with her thumbnail, hoping she’d succeeded in turning the thing on properly, and set the notepad on the table, camera aimed at Clive.

He hadn’t noticed a thing, talking to Raven, a smile on his face that was wider than professional interest warranted.

“…your associates?” he was saying.

“My assistant, Bitsy,” Raven said with an offhand gesture. “And one of my new managers, Margaret,” she said of Vivian, who sat stone-faced and straight-backed on Raven’s other side.

Bitsy? Fucking Bitsy?Axelle bit back an inappropriate retort and tried to smooth her expression.

“It’s a pleasure to have you all here today.” Clive smiled at all of them, now, and Axelle picked up on a waver in Raven’s voice. She was charmed by the man.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid we can’t stay very long, but we do appreciate your hospitality. As to the samples–”

“A moment, if you would,” Clive said, and the door opened behind them.

Axelle twisted around, too fast, a startle reflex, every muscle tensed and ready to propel her out of her chair and into a fight stance. In that moment, she was intensely aware of the weight of her purse in her lap, the heaviness of the gun Albie had given her.

But it was only an assistant wheeling a tea cart, laden with teapot and cups, cans of soda, bottles of sparkling water, little cookies and cakes on small white plates.

She let out a breath and faced forward again – but not before she’d scanned the assistant and his cart for signs of anything suspicious.

Vivian caught her gaze and lifted her brows in a pointed reminder.Don’t eat or drink anything.

Axelle nodded and hovered her pen over her notepad.

“Won’t you have something?” Clive asked. “We have a variety, and the biscuits were baked fresh this morning–”

“I’m afraid we can’t,” Raven said firmly.

“Ah.” Clive’s smile turned chagrined. “Straight to business then, I see. Alright. Leave the cart please, Nicholas, in case our guests change their minds.”

The assistant bowed and left the room.

Hebowed.

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