As long as he doesn’t find out that Rena’s family is receiving threats again.
“Breathe for me,” he instructs, wiping my forehead with a soft cloth. “It’s been a while since you’ve had one of these, Axe.”
“I’m okay.” I take the water from Bernard, drinking it while they study me like you’d watch a toddler with his big-kid cup. “Just stressed. Thank you.”
“Was it Mom?” he asks with the same anxiety he harbored as that eight-year-old boy.
It’s always Mom. She haunts me. She haunts him too.
“Old ghosts. That’s all.”
“Yeah.” He’s still crouched before me, a brittle smile attempting to camouflage his apprehension. “I had some time. I heard the restroom lady was gonna be working for you, and I thought I’d extend an invite to Noire Underground. Heads-upthough. Pamela Henderson from accounting is less than happy because, apparently, her cousin is next in line for a position.”
Maddox, Cash, and Jax always have a pulse on how the employees are doing. It’s another connection to our mother. She met my father when she was a singer here. People hated working for him, so jobs were easier to come by. Now, nepotism is about the only way to get a foot in the door. Most don’t want to leave. Others know too much, so we don’t allow them to. Either way, they’re treated like royalty. Noire Underground is their personal haven.
I should commend his eagerness to welcome Zara, but I can’t. I also can’t outright forbid contact, or they’ll all want answers I’m not ready to extend.
Pulling him in for a firm hug of quiet appreciation, I pat his back, but then I straighten my spine and get back to business. “Does Pamela’s cousin speak thirteen languages?”
He rises, taking my empty glass from me and flashing his lazy grin. “Not likely.”
“Well then, her cousin wasn’t qualified.” I flatten my tie and adjust my cuff links. “Zara will be too busy getting acclimated and translating documents for us. Save the invite for another event.”
The slightest hint of skepticism passes over him, but Bernard comes to my rescue.
“We’d better review those documents. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Jax squeezes my shoulder and takes the hint, though I won’t be shocked if another inquisition is launched at the next family dinner.
As soon as Jax closes my door, I turn to Bernard. “You let yourself in?”
“You didn’t respond to my knocking.” He isn’t a bit ashamed or apologetic. Perhaps he shouldn’t be. “I’d had a hunch you’dbe on edge before she arrived. Jax showed up at the same time. Invading your space was better than drawing attention.”
I can’t argue with that. “Is she here?”
“Five minutes.” Bernard taps a hefty stack of documents that he must have placed on my desk. “There are enough here to keep her busy for some time. All in languages she included on her résumé and nothing that will be compromising. That takes care of Zara West. What about you?”
“What about me?”
His eyes narrow, his brows knitting to one salt-and-pepper line. “You’re having a visceral response to her being here. Why?”
He’s already on high alert. The last thing I should do is heighten his suspicion, but I need to talk through this. And I don’t want Ryker to freak out that I’ve got Zara working on the same floor as his wife when I’m this conflicted.
A boulder parks on my chest. “So many reasons.”
“Such as?” he presses.
With a heavy exhale, I stand, slipping on my suit jacket and buttoning it. “She was more honest and forthright than I’d anticipated. And nothing about her portrays vindictiveness. When she told me she was hiding out from her father, I believed her. I was even … tense until she assured me he was a good father. I believed that as well. It’s evident she’s working an agenda, but she’s also being authentic. The problem is, those two things bleed together, so I’m not certain about anything.”
“Well, she is a pro.” He folds his arms across his chest. “I had a similar impression. AndIam not smitten.”
Here we go.
I slant my head in warning, to which he chuckles, so I square my shoulders, leaning into the thin veneer of authority I don’t really hold over him. “Neither am I.”
“Fine.” He clucks his tongue and stares at me with the care of a mentor or a grumpy, all-knowing uncle. “She admitted to beingan assassin on her membership application. She also offered three previous hits as collateral. Although, knowing Stone, I’d guess those are someone else’s kills with fabricated evidence and will evaporate in due time. We are investigating further.”
“Keep me posted,” I say on my way to the door.
