Page 108 of Convict's Game
Cassie cocked her head. “Are you thinking it’s somehow linked?”
“I wasn’t until this very second. Surely not.” Yet Convict’s words about all the threats around me circled back. I frowned and went to him.
Convict took in his crew mobilising, his expression tortured. A dark light shone in his eyes.
I touched his arm. “Are you going with them?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I won’t leave you alone. Not after last night.”
I took his hand and led him down the corridor so we had privacy. Then I made him look at me. “My plan for the next few hours is to hang out with the girls and try to unpick some mysteries. I won’t leave the warehouse, not because you’vecommanded it as I won’t be treated like property, but because I choose to give you peace of mind while you work.”
His lips quirked. “You like it when I treat you as belonging to me.”
“Or maybe I need time away from you,” I countered. “You want to join your crew and be useful. I can see it in how tightly you’ve clenched your jaw. Go. Trust that I’m good for my word.”
He studied me for a long minute, maybe reaching the same realisation I had. Without trust, we had nothing. And if we kept repeating the pinnacle we’d reached last night, we wouldn’t survive it. Whether ‘it’ was fake or not.
“How about a compromise? I’ll work on the remote camera feeds and be the eyes in the sky for my crew. That’ll take all my attention but I’ll stay in the building, in the ops room down the hall.”
I was still annoyed, though much of it was an act. “So long as it gets you out of my hair, it’s perfect.”
He reached for me. Palmed my cheek and kissed me hard. Then he joined the mission planning while Cassie and I got to work.
Chapter 36
Mila
Cassie’s apartment was a floor down from Genevieve’s but almost identical in the red-brick walls, oak floors, and arched windows overlooking the sunset city. Near the entrance, a shelving unit held motorbike helmets, one with cat ears, and a bookshelf thick with romance novels.
Cassie breezed into the kitchen and searched the cupboards, pulling out packets and raiding the fridge. “Gen is studying today, so we won’t see her for a while, and Everly had a rough night, so ditto. It’ll just be us three.”
I settled on a stool the other side of the kitchen counter. “Mind if I check my email while we wait for Lovelyn?”
Scowling at a box of eggs, she flapped a hand for me to continue.
I opened the app and sighed at the sheer number of messages that flooded in, several familiar names scrolling by. But the message at the very top pulled me up short.
Anonymous: Shame his shiny gold coffin wasn’t on that ship. Would’ve been a fitting sendoff.
A chill slid down my spine, something not adding up.
A rap sounded at the door, and Cassie opened it to Lovelyn, escorted by a member of the skeleton crew.
“I’m attempting pancakes,” Cassie informed her. “If they turn out edible, I’m claiming witchcraft. Otherwise, it’s just violence with eggs.”
“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful.” Lovelyn joined me at the counter and set down a huge handbag, the handle boasting the floral print I’d started associating with her.
I greeted her but struggled to keep my smile.
Lovelyn eyed me. “Are you okay?”
“Not really. Can I talk to you both about something? I haven’t shared this with anyone else but I could use your detective agency thoughts.”
The women gave me their full attention, and I read out the message. Then told them what was bothering me most about it. “My grandfather’s funeral was closed to all but the family, and there are a lot of us. But no press. No photographers inside the building. The pictures that were shared online of the funeral procession and of me at the graveside didn’t show the gold referenced in that message.”
Cassie caught my drift. Pouring batter into her hot pan, she said, “Suggesting someone who’d been at the funeral sent this hate mail?”
I cringed at the description, even though it was correct. “And several more since he died.”
