“Who’s Caroline?”
She pauses—fraction of a beat—enough to register she clocked my eavesdropping.
“My boss.”
I’d thought Hudson wore that crown.“Who called?”
“A colleague.Syd.”
“Did I meet her?”I already know the answer.
“No.She’s on the West Coast.If we need her, she’ll join.For now, remote support.”
“And she’s a friend?”
“Why the twenty questions?”
Because every detail is earned, and I’m trying not to pry the way I want to.She’s doing the work she’s built her life around; she won’t abandon it because I dislike the idea of her loading a handgun before breakfast.
“Text me.During the day.”It’s not a request.
She stills, studies my face.The façade thins, and there she is—the softness from last night, the woman in the kitchen making coffee the way I prefer.“Worried about me?”
“Terrified,” I admit.“You’re carrying a gun and dressed like—” I tip my head, taking her in.“A bike courier or a hungover university student.”
She steps closer until her scent finds me beneath the costume.Her palm comes to rest over my heart.
“This is what I do, Adrien.What I’m good at.”Gentle, firm.“I’ll check in.And we’ll set dinner.”
“You know your team watches the club’s comings and goings on tape,” I say, trying for light and failing.
“True.But we’re studying interactions.Cameras miss nuance.”
“So who are you watching like this?”
“If Eddie leaves during the day.Or his contacts.”A small lift of one shoulder.“Assignments shift.”
“Then dinner,” I say.The word feels like a promise.“As long as you’re careful.”
As she locks her door, and turns for the stairwell, I catch her wrist gently.“Brie.”She pauses, and the disguise falls away for the span of a breath.It’s just her—and the truth I can’t pretend away.“Be careful,” I say quietly.“Some of us don’t recover from the same loss twice.”
ChapterTwenty
Brie
“How’s that Civic?”
Quinn’s on speaker, and I’m crouched down in a velveteen seat that’s seen better days.Circular burns dot the worn velveteen seat cushions and the whole thing smells like someone doused it in chemicals to wash away decades of cigarette smoke.
“It works.No noticeable dents on the bodywork.Paint job’s faded with age but no identifiable rust patterns.”The name of the game is to sit in a car no one looks at twice.Can’t be too new or nice, and it can’t be too damaged.An early two thousands Honda Civic does the job.“The smell…” I wrinkle my nose, not that she can see.
“Is it bad?If I need a different rental source, say so.”
“It’s not the best, but it’s not supposed to be, right?”
My location on the street is a good one, parked in a row of similar sedans crowded between the limited section of pavement that allows parking, with a view of those getting dropped off to enter the club.Three hours in and every member arrives the same way, via car service or taxi.I snap license plates and send them to Quinn, but given we have been granted interior surveillance access, it’s not a necessary step.It’s just filling the time and allows us to match plates with members.
“Alright girl.Chain’s moving.”We’ve started referring to Eddie as chain because of his ever-present gold chain.“Side door exit.”
