Page 110 of Stealing Blinds

“Will you be in and out then?” he clips, irritated again.

“No. When they were discussing plans, I told them I’d heard stories and always wanted to go to the retreat. Cash thought it sounded like a good time. I think at least one of his brothers’ wives will come, so we’ll stay the whole time even if the guys don’t. I’ll be there when I need to be there, E.”

“When you finalize times and methods, I want a report.” That’s his permission to carry on.

“Of course.” I stop to peer at the glistening city and give Axel a thumbs-up because E’s acceptance is enough for me to tie this up. “We do need to discuss the handoff or drop though. Will it be there or in the States?”

“Not there. You need to get it and get out. I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good.” I hold in my relief to squeak out my goodbye. “I’ll be in touch.”

Once I check and recheck that the phone is indeed off, I grin at Axel. “I think we’re good.”

“Well done. You handled that flawlessly.” He rises and kicks his chin toward the door. “Let’s go tell everyone else.”

I fall in step beside him as we maneuver the office halls. All the employees scrutinize me and watch him, like they do Cash. They really are kings around here, but every day spent with them makes it apparent how deserving they are of that reverence.

He tells me that the rest of the family is gathered in a staging room, but once we dip back into a hidden passageway, he cocks an eyebrow. “In your expert opinion, if I wanted to get my hands on a prized trophy, how might I do that?”

I wondered when one of Cash’s brothers would interrogate me about the Stanley Cup. “Are you a collector or simply curious?”

“I haven’t decided.”

My lips curl at his vagueness as I extend my own. “Let me know when you have.”

“What would the price be … for a collector?”

“For others? A lot,” I say, repeating his retort from when I asked what it would cost to have them help me. “For you? It’s covered. But even with the friends-and-family discount, I’d want to know the intent for it.”

“Noted.” He smirks, but drags his hand over his mouth. “Cash has always had incredible instincts.”

“I find that perspective interesting from the man who steered his teenage years.” A laugh flows from me at the thought of what Axel dealt with from all the younger ones. “I can only imagine.”

“The twenties weren’t much easier,” he quips before an introspective solemness finds him. “It was hard to keep a kid with his charisma levelheaded in a resort and town full of people who were vying for his attention. He was so intent on forgetting our past and creating his own magic, keeping people at arm’s length so he didn’t have to face anything other than a good time. His way of numbing. I never knew what to do for him because after everything we’d been through, I understood the tactic, but I often wondered if numb and smiling were worse than bravely broken.” He shakes his head, and I catch a glossiness to his sapphire eyes. “It means more to me than I can express to see him feeling everything with you.”

“Well”—gratefulness clogs my throat—“he’s already changed my life. You all have.”

He palms my head, pleased with that, and scans his finger to get into a covert backstage room.

As soon as we enter, a roar of cackles and hoopla greets us. The entire room is draped in what I believe are industrial fire blankets. That’s an educated guess based on the fact that Maddox has a giant marshmallow speared on the end of a machete and Jax and Cash seem to be competing to roast each side with dueling flamethrowers.

“My side is a perfect golden brown,” Cash boasts.

Jax sends another flame to his side of the treat. “Burnt is better.”

“Fucking hell,” Axel hisses before turning to me and referencing our conversation about him raising Cash. “The thirties are no picnic either.”

I shrug with equal measures of empathy and amusement. “They’ve got snacks for one.”

Ryker and Mercy are sitting in a far corner, enjoying the show and munching on graham crackers and chocolate. Tessa’s face is twisted. I’d say she’s internally berating herself for finding this entertaining.

Zara is the first to turn around, beaming as she announces, “We’re making s’mores.”

And the man beside me melts faster than the sugar. “Lovely, darling.”

“If you think the hypothetical suggestion I make for the heist is a good one, you drink. If you disagree with it, you don’t.”

Maddox flicks his butterfly knife around. “So, we’re playing Never Have I Ever?”