TWENTY-SIX
collision
Enzo
Thursday Evening, Day 36
Three nights flew by too fast. I was pulled into more meetings at The Vault than I wanted. I had an itch to punch every dirty politician who insisted we needed to increase production of their laundering. I wanted to probe about why they needed more cash and faster. I couldn’t help but think about these Hollywood parties and Jax Novak’s hunt for Sophie.
I wanted to ask my clients, “What do you know about Sophie Delacroix?” “Have you seen her?” “Are you going to these parties?” and my favorite, “Should I fucking kill you now?”
I managed to keep a level head and resisted a killing spree, but it took considerable restraint. I knew supporting Pippa tonight was more important.
I sent Niko and a small crew to south Virginia tonight to deal with an issue we are having with our arms supplier. He’s pissed that Eva and I are both in the field without him. Now he’schecking in with me every fucking five minutes and I’m going to lose it if he doesn’t calm down.
The comms van hums softly around Eva and me. The screens glow in the dark like watchful eyes. Feeds from inside the ballroom scroll past—wide angles, close-ups, security cams piped clean into our system—every angle accounted for. Every variable we could think of.
Doesn’t mean I like it. I understand Niko’s concern; this is a risky endeavor. There are more armed guards inside that building than there has any right to be. We are parked two blocks down on the south side entrance of the White House. Opposite of where all the celebrities and politicians arrive on the red carpet at the north entrance. Our van looks like any other media van stationed nearby tonight. We blend in, but that’s still not enough to make me feel at ease.
Everyone I care about is involved in this op; I won’t feel at ease until we are all back home. Safe.
Eva’s headset hangs loosely around her neck. Her fingers fly over a tablet as she toggles between channels. Inside, Pippa, Luna, Hudson, and Jules move through the ballroom with practiced ease, calm voices, and clean check-ins.
I fidget and glance camera to camera, trying to keep an eye on all the moving pieces.
Pippa is easy to spot. She’s wearing a stunning formal red dress in a sea of black gowns. When I first saw her tonight, she took my breath away. Her elegance and grace are unmatched. She told us she chose red symbolically, to reclaim her power from when Sophie made her dye her red hair blonde.
I am so proud of her. Every time she opens up, trusts me, shares with us, my heart expands for her. She’s sunk her claws into my heart and I think I want them there for life.
Hudson, Luna, and Jules are harder to keep eyes on—they are meant to blend in. Each member of the secret service, FBI, andthe contracted teams look exactly the same, but we are mic’d for anything urgent.
Eva and I can’t go inside. We are too high profile, too recognizable. We are extra eyes, comms, and the getaway team, if needed. But I don’t like being on the outside looking in.
Eva glances at me. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say.
She gives me a knowing look.
“No,” I confess. “But I will be.”
She waits for more.
“I don’t think I want to do this anymore,” I admit quietly. “The family business, any of it.”
She studies my face, searching for doubt. She finds none. “Okay. I won’t be upset if it all goes away.”
That isn’t what I expected. I thought she might feel sentimental over my father’s legacy. “Really?”
“I want you alive.Free. Everything else is negotiable.”
“Thank you. I’m sure that seems out of left field,” I admit.
“Not really. It all seems, I don’t know…dirty? Messier than before the veil was lifted?”
“Knowing what they went through, what thousands have survived at the hands of these fucking men,” I hiss.
“And knowing our business helps them…”
