Page 155 of Stolen for Keeps
He tossed his suit jacket onto the nearest bench. “I didn’t have proof of anything. Not one invoice. Not even a whiff of a transfer.”
Noah swore under his breath. “You serious?”
“I was banking on Annamaria cracking,” Dom said, completely unfazed. “She’s a peacock, not a snake. All feathers, no venom. A well-timed bluff about the money? That was always going to hit her.”
I stared at him, stunned. “You mean?—”
“It was a trap. And she stepped right into it.” He looked at us both, a little too proud of himself. “You two worry too much. I’m morally flexible, not stupid.”
“Shit, Dom!” Noah muttered.
And I was simply glad I hadn’t known that in advance.
“So you’re heading back to L.A. soon? Stack up more wins?” Noah asked.
“Actually, I’ve got another Montana case,” Dom said, glancing my way. “That charming soul who leased you the HERF gun?”
I blinked. “Wait, you’re representinghim?”
Dom’s smirk said it all. “Only the best.”
After listening closely, Claire arched a brow. “Where were you when I was running from The Revenants?”
“Ah,” Dom said. “I heard about that.”
“What the hell are The Revenants?” I asked.
Claire waved a hand. “My past. A story for another day. Today, we celebrate you.”
Before I could respond, a voice cut through the noise.
“This isn’t over, Lucas!” Harlow yelled.
I was pretty sure he meant me, but Noah stepped in first, his body tight, ready to take the hit if it came.
“You come back for her, you’re a dead man.” There was noheat in his voice. Just certainty. “And you know I have a goddamn good lawyer to defend me. I’ll make you guilty, dead or alive. Trust me. Wherever you are, you’ll deal with Buffaloberry.”
Harlow didn’t respond. He just stared, something wary in his expression. He finally saw it. He wasn’t in control here. He was just another kid trespassing on someone else’s turf.
He turned and walked out, consequences catching up to him with every step.
The silence he left behind didn’t last long.
A woman approached me, holding out a phone. Her hands were trembling, her eyes glassy with emotion. “Miss Belrose. Sorry, I mean, Mrs. Lucas. I’m Cleo’s mother,” she said. “Cleo wanted to be here. But she can’t…she still can’t leave the house. So…”
She turned the phone, and on the screen was a little girl. Small, but bright-eyed. Breathing, laughing, and real.
My throat locked.
“Hi, Miss Maya,” Cleo chirped.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, not to stifle tears, but to hold in everything. Relief, awe, joy. Then I shifted it to the screen and managed a wave. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Mommy told me what you did. What you gave me.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
“You’re so kind,” she said innocently. “Although you didn’t have to.”
