Page 12 of The San Marco Heist

Game night with the girls. I’d lived in this town on Canada’s East Coast since I was twelve, and these three had been my best friends the whole time. Elementary school, high school, and university. First loves, group dates, and heartbreaks. Marriage plus kids for one. Marriage plus divorce for another.

Through it all, we ensured we saw each other at least once a month. My job and family provided a skewed view of reality, but my friends kept me grounded.

“How was the conference, Scar?” asked Heather, already polishing off her glass. Good thing Kelley was driving her home. Two months off a divorce that no one saw coming—except her ex—and it showed.

Jenn began dealing our cards. “Where was this one again?”

“Boston. And not interesting unless you’re into disaster recovery systems.” I pulled up a four and an eight, making a vomiting noise. “These cards suck.”

Jenn laughed. “You’ve got the worst poker face in the world.”

I shrugged and took a sip of my whiskey, savoring its sweetness over the light burn of the alcohol. They had little idea what I actually did for a living. I didn’t con them, cheat them, pretend to be what they wanted. With these girls, I was just me. The only lie between us was the part of my job that pushed—and sometimes broke—the boundaries of legality. They knew I was in recoveries but thought it was limited to things like phone calls, coordinating with various police forces, and tracking down cyber thieves.

Heather tapped her cards as they came to her. She never checked until the full hand was dealt. “No hot security guys sweeping you off your feet?”

“I told you already. It was work, not playtime.”

Jenn focused on dealing, keeping her voice neutral as she asked, “Emmett sweep anyone off their feet?”

Kelley snorted a laugh. “Still? You’ve been in love with him since tenth grade!”

I opted for another vomiting noise.

But Heather, eyes not quite able to fix on me, continued. “Seriously, Scar, you haven’t so much as gone on a date in two years.”

She’s drunk.Ignore it. She’s projecting her own pain.

Jenn nudged her, voice quiet. “Stop.”

Heather shrugged and picked up her cards, dropping one in the process. “You’ve got to get back on the horse some—”

Kelley leaned back abruptly, obviously kicking Heather under the table. “Stop it!”

“I’m worried about her, that’s all.” Heather grabbed her empty glass, eyed it a moment, then swiped Jenn’s. “That man was not worth two years of celibacy.”

My heart took a sudden, unavoidable tumble. I stared at her, but the pop of yellow on the wall behind her called to me. Begged to be looked at. Absorbed my peripheral attention.

Noah and me at Niagara Falls in our ridiculous yellow ponchos.

The day he’d proposed.

Over the last twenty-three months and four days, I’d gradually gotten rid of the pictures and mementos. But I didn’t have anything to take up that space on the wall. It had to be the right size, the right color. Besides, every time I reached for it, his eyes met mine out of the photograph and I had to leave him there.

“I know, I know, don’t speak ill of the dead, but does no one here remember how passive-aggressive he was? I mean, remember when he skipped Christmas dinner with her family?”

“It was Thanksgiving,” said Jenn. “Emmett was pissed.”

“He was, was he?” Heather winked at her, and Jenn’s cheeks flushed.

Noah had his moments, most of them being in conflict with my mother. He’d been my number two at the company. That blow-up had been a day after we’d returned from an op where he’d miscalculated a hand-off and we lost the painting we were after. Mum didn’t hold back when we made mistakes, and Noah had barely spoken to her for three weeks.

Like everyone other than Emmett, he couldn’t stand up to her in person. Noah had chosen to skulk off and avoid family dinner instead of facing the music. Even still, he lovedme, no matter how messy my family or our work got. He loved my brain and my skills and we made an amazing team.

Heather continued as though she were on a podium giving a speech. “What about Rav? That sexy beast could—”

Kelley cleared her throat. “How about we go back to harassing Jenn, who’s still crushing on Scar’s brother?”

They laughed, but all I could do was twist my head down to my shoulder. Curled my arm in close so the sweater’s hood rode up just enough that I could smell him. Two shirts and this sweater left. Then even his scent would be gone. Maybe then I’d take that photo down.

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