“I texted Dini, but she says Monet never came to the party. Where would Monet have gone? Maybe Boston, I guess, if she didn’t want to be found.”
A thought occurs to me, but I don’t share it. Monet uses the same local dealer as Dini, and that guy works for Enzo Palermo. If Enzo knows Laurelyn Reilly is leverage to use against me, he might think her little sister is too.
Kidnapping Monet would be risky with so many FBI agents in Coynston watching me and the Reillys, but Enzo might not know that using Monet as indirect leverage against me was something the FBI thought of first.
I keep my mouth firmly shut on the drive to the compound. Some conversations are best kept for the basement.
When we enter the house, Rachel emerges from the kitchen, wearing one of ‘Vil’s black t-shirts as a nightgown, literally. Holding a mug of steaming tea in her hands, she cocks her head at him.
“Someone convinced us to go swimming,” Anvil says, pushing a porcelain vase aside and setting his gun on the foyer table.
Rachel holds up the mug, and he takes it, taking a sip and then swigging it. “Baby asleep?”
“For now.”
“Where?”
“Our guest room.”
“I’ll check, but I’ll shower in another room. Find me clothes, Raven.”
“You can shower in there, Sasha. She’ll be fine.”
Anvil goes in the guest room for a moment, but then comes back out. He finishes off the tea and gives the mug back. “Find me at the end-of-the-hall shower, Raven.”
“We’ll use the upstairs guest room,” I say, taking Laurel’s right hand in my left to draw her to the stairs.
“I’ll make coffee and more tea,” Rachel says. “Trick?”
I pause.
“Congratulations.”
That’s when I realize Laurelyn’s gloves are gone.
“Thanks, Rachel.”
Chapter 9
Laurel
The guest bathroom makes my jaw drop. There’s a glossy black tub with faceted sides that cause it to look like a giant onyx that someone cut the top off of and hollowed out for bathing. The antique gold fixtures match its rim. The double sinks are set in a piece of furniture that’s decorated with a crocheted gold thread. The showerhead’s a metal cross suspended from the ceiling, and the stone tile under our feet is warm, making it opulent and functional.
Trick sets his gun on the cabinet and hangs his clothes on a hook.
“Get out of those wet clothes.”
“This house is incredible.”
He glances around. “You like this bathroom?”
I nod. “It’s unbelievable.”
“The furniture’s from a Portuguese designer whose work is pretty great. But that tub’s ridiculous. I ordered it in the middle of the night when I was really stoned. Meant to get the tub below it on the website. Zoe’s the only one who likes the tub. She’s a theater major and half Brazilian, which explains her taste. C calls this the Liberace bathroom.”
Laughing softly, I shake my head.
“That tub’s one of the things that convinced me to stop speed-balling.” When he cracks a smile, I realize he’s kidding.
