But the topic of that call is a great diversion for this conversation since I’m not ready to explain why I’ve taken it upon myself to escort my little obsession everywhere. So, once Tessa is safely inside, I get out of the car and go with it.
Sticking my AirPods in my ears, I shove my phone in my pocket, toss my Americano cup in the trash, and stride toward our private penthouse elevator, flicking my butterfly knife around as I unload. “I am a little stressed about the call. I poked around about the missing money, but I got nothing. I’m not sure what the expectation is. Ryker and Axel appease situations like this with their own brands of finesse. But I’m guessing, if I find anything, it will be that one of our other members is behind it. All I can do is offer to dig around a little, but beyond that, what the fuck do I know?”
“All he wants is for you to assure him you’re doing whatever you can to gain intel.” Cash’s smooth air filters through the phone. He never frets about anything. “It’s peace of mind and the illusion that we’re on his side first that he’s after, not a guarantee. I wouldn’t sweat it.”
Of course he wouldn’t.
“I’ll roll with it.” I let out a sigh that blends with the resonantclick-clack-rattleof my balisong knife. An anvil of stress is crushing my chest, most of it concerning the bratty vixen I can’t seem to stop thinking about. “I just don’t need Axel riding my ass right now. I much prefer dealing with employees and entertainment.”
“I hear that,” he says, and the muffled din of chatter is in the background. “But he must not be too worried about it because he gave it to you.”
I step into the elevator and scan my retina so it takes me to the penthouse. “He also sent me three reminders that pretty much boil down to don’t-fuck-this-up messages.”
He barks a laugh. “Rena getting married really fucked us all. He was far less hyper-focused on the rest of us when our little hellion was here, wreaking havoc. But, on the bright side, Ryker is more distracted than ever with his family, so it should even out.”
“That’s true.” I chuckle because Axel’s extra attention on us aside, things are a bit calmer around here without our little sister causing trouble and with the addition of Mercy and Remy. “When you paint the comparison to Rena, it’s doubtful either of them will ever be that combustible with me.”
Primarily because I keep shit to myself. But what Axel doesn’t know can’t make him flip his lid.
“Not much can get them there, other than …” He trails off, and a smile blasts across my face as I step into our family room, noting that I’m the only one home.
“The incident—”
“That shall never be spoken of again,” he quickly breaks in.
“Right.” I stifle the amusement that is desperately trying to leak out of me.
A while back, Cash had a thing with one of our cabaret girls. They messed around a few times here and there. Finally, he took her to his private room in Magie Noire, where they indulged in some bondage play before she walked out, leaving him as naked as the day he’d been born, tied up, and gagged. For a guy whose specialty was sleight of hand, that shit was mortifying.
Honestly, it could have been much worse. She’d gotten her panties in a twist because he’d told her he didn’t believe in relationships or monogamy. Assuming she was the exception since she was an employee and we’d always been pretty firmabout not dipping into that pool, she’d entered stage-five-clinger mode.
I got wind that she was plotting revenge when he suggested that they call it quits. So, unbeknownst to him, I let her have her fun and offer him one hell of a send-off. I made sure it was Bernard who was called to find him. It still got back to Ryker and Axel. They chewed his ass out good, turning ten shades of red while schooling him on how inappropriate his behavior had been, but I know they shut the door and lost it when they were done.
Cash has a smile that is like some sort of beacon to women. And it makes him fucking cocky, so as his older brother, it’s my job to keep him humble. I was also protecting him from the woman scorned doing something that we couldn’t control, but the humbling part was fun. She wisely moved far away after that, never to be heard from again, per my suggestion.
After hanging my keys on the hook, I grab myself a cup of coffee to take down to my office. “Since I don’t plan to find myself entwined with a dancer while talking to Mr. Lund, I should be good then.”
“Yeah,” he grunts. “Keep the call short and sweet. And avoid relations with employees, like your life depends on it. Then get ready for our Independence celebration.”
Sage advice that I’ve never struggled to follow. So, why the hell is my stomach in knots about a certain snarky employee? She might despise me and blame me for shit she has no right pinning on me, but no matter how much I try, I can’t find it in me to stay pissed at her.
As much as I enjoy pushing limits, I’m certain breaking every damn rule with her would be beyond compare, the thrill of a lifetime. It wouldn’t be the first time I crossed a line for her. And something tells me, that was only the beginning.
TESSA
Mercy and Jax are crowded in a booth with me at Café L’Ambroisie. Sometimes, we eat lunch in one of the Underground restaurants, but if no other employees are joining us, we often opt to come here. That’s an advantage of being besties with the Noire queen, I suppose. We frequent the places she likes, whether employees are supposed to hang out there or not.
Café L’Ambroisie has an eclectic atmosphere—more rustic than the rest of La Lune Noire’s upscale debauchery vibe, with brighter colors, aged brick walls, a polished concrete floor, and bronze accents, like some of the places on Bourbon Street. And like many of those, it’s noisy, even when the dueling pianists aren’t playing. Aside from that, the food is everything New Orleans cuisine should be.
Mercy sets her po’boy sandwich back on her plate, wipes her hands, and glances my way. “So, have you decided what to do about Hunter?”
We talk openly in front of Jax. He’s got a slew of my secrets, and he hasn’t let me down yet. Maybe because I have a mountain of his too.
Mercy’s asking if I’ll appease my family and make nice with my ex at my sister’s engagement party. I’m not great at pretending, but there is a lot of history there. And it will make everyone happier if I hear the guy out, though I can’t imagine what there would be left to say. I’m not who he wants, and I’m unwilling—unable—to become that person.
“I haven’t thought much about it. I’ve got two days to decide, and you never know. They could uninvite me by then.” I curl my lips into a blasé smile, as if none of that bothers me, but while those words are the truth, that armor veiling them is a flimsy veneer.
“Their loss,” Jax barks, and Mercy echoes that sentiment.
