Page 37 of Savannah Royals
I exhale in awhooshand reveal myself. Abe eyes my empty hands, then shakes his head. His search, like mine, turned up nothing.
I raise my eyes to the swirling staircase, apprehensive. Looks like we’re headed for the third floor, the private living quarters. Abe points upward, silently asking if I’m ready.
We’re a well-oiled machine. Abe and I slink up the stairs and down the hall in perfect tandem. The plush carpeting muffles any hint of footfalls as we head to our first checkpoint, Harry’s office. The door is locked, but that won’t keep us out.
On bended knee, Abe slips a slender flathead from his waistline and jimmies the door. A few softclickslater, we’re in. I close the heavy door behind us while Abe heads for the fireplace.
“Dammit,” he mutters, turning to me.
Five fireplaces searched, five empty. The ballerina is either safely ensconced in the master bedroom or it’s nowhere to be found, and the entire job will have been for naught.
“We’re going to have to wait it out, Kat. Like we talked about,” Abe says.
“What time is it?”
“Eleven fifteen.”
“We need to hide for almosttwo hours?”
“Yes. There’s a linen closet right outside the master,” Abe reminds me. “That’s Plan B.”
“Can’t we just stay here?” I offer weakly. “The door is locked. The staff probably won’t come in here to clean…”
Abe shakes his head. “That’s not the plan, Kat. This room is a hot zone. If Harry returns, this is the first place he’ll come. We have no extraction plan.”
“He’s not coming home.”
“Plan B, Kat.” Abe stonewalls me. “We don’t go rogue mid-mission, we always follow the plan. We wait directly outside the master bedroom, and when the time is right, we make our move.”
“And if she doesn’t wake up for her usual pee, Abe? What then?”
“We’ll tackle that if we come to it. That’s why I’m here with you.”
I look at my partner with unease, understanding now why Paul was so insistent I have back-up inside the house.
Lady Astor is Abe’s assignment, I realize.
If it comes to that.
“Let’s go.” Abe heads for the hallway. I wait patiently while he crouches, clicking tumblers back in place to lock the door.
“Like we were never here,” I murmur when he rises.
When we reach the closet, Abe chivalrously swings the door open. I squeeze myself inside, wiggling like a fish on a hook as I try to maximize space. Abe takes one look at my fidgeting and shakes his head. He pulls me by the arm and switches our positions. Once inside, he sits on the floor and leans against the wall, stretching his legs the length of the closet.
He holds his arms out to me and lowers his voice. “Come here, Kat.”
“You want me to sit on you? For two hours?”
“You weigh ten pounds. I’ll be fine.”
I stare at him, unconvinced.
“Come here, Kat,” he urges again.
Reluctantly, I step inside. I straddle him, still standing, and pull the closet door shut, plunging us into darkness. I sink onto his lap and wrap my arms and legs around Abe’s middle like a monkey. He grunts softly as I jockey my position.
“Kat, watch where you’re…distributing your weight.”
