Connolly starts to follow me out, stumbles and crashes into me.
I turn to him. “Since some of that bad luck should be mine, can you transfer it?”
He shoos me toward the door.
“Take his hand,” Rian calls after us. “You can transfer some of it that way.”
Connolly pulls his hands in. “But you are not going to because you need all your own luck if there’s any chance your sister is here. Now go.”
My sister is not here. We do a very quick sweep, staying in sight of one another. Most of the rooms are under construction. We find two habitable ones with no sign of actual habitation. Then we regroup and head for the stairs. We reach the first level when Connolly’s arms shoot out to hold us back. He tilts his head, considering.
“Yes,” a voice calls. “There is someone in this hall. Someone who has been waiting far longer than he should have needed to wait.”
Hector throws open the stairwell door and fills the space. “You aren’t very good at this, are you?”
“Where’s my sister?” I say.
His look answers the question that my gut already has. Still, I have to push.
“My sister. The one who specializes in the lover’s lament—the curse that’s apparently on the Necklace of Harmonia.”
His face purples. “Lover’s lament?” He roars the words, making us all shrink back. “Who calls it that?”
“Everyone,” Rian says. “It makes sense, right? Aphrodite screwed around with Ares, so Hephaestus cursed her. He was upset and—”
“It is not a lover’s lament.” Hector spits the words. “I do not have your sister. I have this idiot, courtesy of Havoc, who owed me a favor and repaid it thus.”
“So when Havoc demanded the necklace to repay Rian’s debt,” I say, “she was actually getting it for you?”
“I have multiple courses of action in play. Many irons in a very large fire.”
“Because you really want that necklace.”
“A moot point now as I do not have it. My wife does. That’s where you come in. At the museum, I realized even if we caught you, I might have difficulty getting you out of there. Better to bring you here.”
In other words, this was a trap. I don’t say that. Neither does Connolly. We won’t give him the satisfaction of gloating over how easily we fell into it.
“What do you want, Hector?” Connolly says.
“It’s Mr. Voden to you.”
“All right. Mr. Voden, then.”
Rian grumbles under his breath. He wouldn’t have given Hector the satisfaction. I’m not sure I could have done it, either, at least not as smoothly and sarcasm-free as Connolly. But it’s the right move, and Connolly’s ego is healthy enough that he doesn’t need to get into a pissing match with the guy blocking our escape route.
“I want that damned necklace,” Hector says. “My wife has it. I want it.”
“And we’re supposed to get it for you,” I say.
He snorts. “I wouldn’t ask you to get my mail from the post box. You’d drop it in a puddle halfway back. All I want is confirmation—and proof—that my wife has it.”
“You’re going to hold me captive until they come through,” Rian says.
“No, they can take you. You’re not worth the upkeep.”
Rian opens his mouth to protest, but an elbow to the ribs stops him.
Hector continues, “I believe I’ve proven my point. I obtained your brother easily, Mr. Connolly, and he was in no danger of escaping. Nor were you in any danger of finding him until I let you do so. I’m not going to threaten you. You already realize that if you fail me, you won’t like the consequences.”
Mwah-ha-ha.
Even as I think that, I tell myself to be careful here. It’d be easy to dismiss Hector as a textbook villain. He is a figure of power in this world, one that operates just far enough outside the normal one that it doesn’t need to abide by any rules.
Hector turns to Connolly. “You’re ambitious, boy. It vibrates off you. The fact you chose to work with my wife shows a distinct lack of discernment, but you wouldn’t be the first who fell for her charms. I don’t have any charms. Just brute power. She could have ignored me earlier. She didn’t dare. They all make sure to pay their respects when I am in the room. If you want into this game, the person you need to impress is me.”
I want to laugh. Is Hector actually dangling future employment in front of Connolly? After kidnapping his brother?
He is, and he sees nothing wrong with that. In his world, this is just business.
As for Connolly, he’s a raw asset, a student ripe for learning. Put in a little effort, and he will be very valuable. But at the heart of it, this isn’t about Connolly. It’s about Vanessa and Hector. She sees promise in Connolly, and Hector wants to take it from her.
Hector is sending Connolly on a mission to test him. Letting him take Rian to prove he wouldn’t be a tyrannical boss. He’s wooing an asset to hurt his ex-wife. Nothing more.
Hector has dismissed me as he’s dismissed Rian. We don’t have what it takes, and that isn’t just about power—it’s about drive and ambition, too. Connolly is the one who can, ultimately, be useful. And who can be used.
Chapter Thirty-Four
We don’t speak on the way to the car. Rian is checking his phone and wallet, which Hector returned. Connolly has his deep-in-thought face on, and I probably have mine on, too. Hector doesn’t have Hope. I want to kick myself for jumping to that conclusion so fast, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced someone wanted us to think he did. If that guy on the phone wasn’t Hector, he sure as hell was doing a fine impersonation of him. That can’t be a coincidence. We’ve been led on a wild-goose chase.
Now we’re being led on another.
Does Vanessa have the necklace? I can see how it might look that way. She brought us. We identified it as a fake while she was already out of the room—with the real necklace. Fire and snakes and panic ensure her clean getaway.
And yet . . .
I remember the look on her face when she’d excused herself before the necklace was uncovered, and no matter how much I analyze that mental image, I don’t see deceit. She’d been upset. Which doesn’t make much sense, but it also isn’t the face she’d pull on as an excuse to leave. She’s said she isn’t interested in the necklace. Why not just go with that? Oh, that thing? I’ll just step outside for some air while you all make fools of yourselves over it.
So much of this doesn’t make sense. It seems to until I dig deeper. Then I come up with explanations for why people are behaving as they are, when the truth is that I feel as if I’m watching a foreign movie with the subtitles off and telling myself I understand what’s going on. I don’t. There’s more here, and I’m not getting it. Connolly and I are skimming the surface as everyone else swims below us, pursuing goals we can’t see for reasons we can’t fathom.
When we reach the car, Rian says, “Any chance I can get an update here? On what’s going on?”
Connolly snaps out of it with a sharp shake of his head. “Yes, of course. We need to talk. First, is Hector telling the truth? Your debt was to Havoc, but she sold it to him?”
Rian shrugs, hands spread. “I guess so? I wasn’t exactly part of that conversation. I was taken from outside my apartment last week. Havoc said she was tired of waiting for me to pay her back, and I was her guest until my debt was repaid. Her goons stashed me in an empty room first, and then moved me to that hotel. I thought it was because our parents convinced them to put me in better quarters. Apparently not.”
“How were you treated?”
Another shrug. “Well enough for a captive, I guess. Bored out of my skull. Binge-watching TV is awesome . . . for about twelve hours. I tried talking to my guards, but they figured it was a trick. Otherwise, it was like being quarantined at the Holiday Inn. Not exactly five-star food and guest services. Decent enough, though. I figured, as long as it kept being decent, that meant Mom and Dad were playing ball.
I knew they’d pay the ransom. They were just stalling to teach me a lesson.”
“No one was stalling,” Connolly says. “Your captor demanded something other than money. I was working on that.”
“You were working on it?” Rian sputters. “Mom and Dad offloaded this on you? Outsourced this inconsequential task that wasn’t worth their time?”
“I think it was more complicated than that,” Connolly murmurs in a practiced tone that suggests he’s accustomed to smoothing over their parents’ bad behavior to keep Rian from being hurt. Who does that for Connolly? No one, I bet.
“They didn’t even tell you I’d been kidnapped,” Rian says.
“I . . . presume that was for my own good. So I’d proceed with a clear head.”
“Right. I’m pretty sure I could be strung over a vat of boiling oil, and you’d still proceed with a clear head.”
When Connolly opens his mouth, Rian claps him on the shoulder. “That sounded pissy. I just meant you don’t get rattled easily. They should have told you. Our parents are assholes.”
Connolly’s mouth opens again, but again Rian cuts him short with a shoulder squeeze. I remember how quick Connolly had been to admit his parents were assholes. But there’s a difference between saying it to me and saying it to the guy who shares those parents.
“You can defend their honor later,” Rian says. “Let’s stop jabbering and get going. I want to hear this full story.”
I offer to explain the situation while Connolly drives. Or I can drive, and he can explain. That makes Rian laugh.
“Good luck with that,” he says. “No one drives Aiden’s car but Aiden.”
“Er, right,” I say. “So I’ll tell the story then?”
“Please,” Connolly says.
“Whoa, what? Seriously? You’re letting someone else explain something?” Rian looks at me. “When we were little, people used to think I was mute because Aiden did the talking. All the talking.”
Connolly unlocks the car. “Please explain what ‘people’ you mean and under what circumstances.” When Rian doesn’t, Connolly says, “Adults in dire need of explanation. Like when a softball went through their window. Or someone kept their daughter out all night.”
“You were better at talking to grown-ups,” Rian says.
“Better at cleaning up after—” Connolly cuts himself off. “Climb in. Rian? Can you take the back seat, please?”
“Actually,” I say, “is it okay if I sit back there, too? Easier than twisting around to talk.”
“Did you hear that, Aiden? Your friend wants to sit in the back seat with me.” He waggles his brows. “I think I’m making an impression.”
“I’m sure you are,” Connolly says, and I sputter a laugh as we get into the car.
“Seat belt on,” Connolly says. “And keep your hands to yourself.”
“What if she doesn’t want me to? Or what if she’s the one touching me?”
“If she touches you, I’ll expect a scream of pain to follow.”
“Be still my heart.” He glances at me. “I’m still hoping for those handcuffs.”
“I’m thinking a gag might be more appropriate,” I say. “Now hush up and listen. I have a story to tell you.”
Connolly has a text from Vanessa. It’s not the first. While we’d been fleeing the museum, she’d evidently texted to ask if we were okay. Connolly said we were, not mentioning the fact we’d been huddled behind an exhibit at the time. Then she texted while we were in pursuit of Hector’s henchman, asking if we needed a place to stay the night. Nope, we were good. Connolly had still refrained from saying anything about the fact we were kinda busy. Nor had he mentioned the texts to me. Both of these suggest he’d been mulling over the possibility Vanessa was complicit long before Hector claimed so.
Her third text says she’s heading to Marius’s and asks us to join her. She needs to speak to us in private.
That one Connolly passes to me.
“It could be a trap,” I say. “It probably is.”
“Yes.”
“So we’re going?”
“Hell, yeah,” Rian says. “This Vanessa chick probably has your sister. She’s in on it with this Marius guy. If you don’t go, you miss your chance. I know where we can pick up a couple guns. There’s this guy in Brooklyn—”
“No,” Connolly and I say in unison.
“Fine, skip the guns. I can get us some mace. Or smoke grenades.”
“He’s kidding, right?” I say to Connolly.
“I wish,” Connolly murmurs. “No, Rian. While I hate the idea of stepping into yet another trap, it does seem the most efficient step. Our defense is that we know it may be a trap. We’ll be ready. And by we, I mean Kennedy and me. You are going to a hotel.”
A pause. A long one. Then Rian says, “You hate me, don’t you? Take me out of one hotel room, dangle adventure in front of my nose and then stash me in another hotel room.”
“It will be a nicer one. Five star. I was thinking the Empire. If we hurry, the bar might still be open.”
Silence. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Connolly sighs. “That you’ve had a very difficult week, and I know you’re fond of the bar at the Empire. Have a drink, make a new friend.”
“Get wasted. Get laid. That’s my life, right? Oh, and getting into trouble that you need to fix.”
Connolly’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Right now, I would not turn down a drink myself. I’m sorry if you found that offensive, Rian. You were complaining about being stashed in a hotel room, and I was giving you options. As for the stashing part, that’s not an insult, either. Bringing you along means explaining you to Vanessa and Marius.”
“Aiden’s right,” I say. “If we tell the truth, they’ll know something’s up with Hector. Weave a web of lies, and we’ll get tangled in it.”
“Then bring me along and let me stay outside. Backup in case of emergency.”
Connolly hesitates.
“Or do you think I can’t handle that?” Rian says. “That I’ll screw it up like I screwed up that job for Havoc? I didn’t screw it up, by the way. I don’t know what Mom and Dad told you, but Havoc pulled the rug out from under me. Then she could claim I owed her, which puts the Connollys in her debt.”
“My concern isn’t that you can’t handle it, Rian. It’s that I think you’ve been through enough.”
“That’s for me to judge. Otherwise, you’re saying I can’t handle it.”
I clamp my jaw shut. I can’t interfere. Maybe Connolly doesn’t trust Rian to pull it off. Or maybe he doesn’t trust Rian to judge his own post-trauma mental health. He can’t say either, though, without offending Rian. Yet there’s nothing to stop Rian from hopping into a cab and saying “Follow that car” after Connolly drops him off.
“All right,” Connolly says. “You can come along, but you are staying outside any security perimeter. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Marius lives just outside New York City. Here’s where property value comes into play. Vanessa’s place is midway between Boston and New York, but off the beaten track, in an area that has little to recommend it besides the fact it’s only two hours to either city. Marius lives within enviably easy commuting distance, so while his property is a fraction of the size, I bet the land is worth more.
His house is what I’d expected from Vanessa’s. Two-story, white brick, palatial design complete with columns. Like Vanessa’s estate, it’s gated, but in Marius’s case, it’s an eight-foot metal fence with security cameras, another clear message.
We drop Rian off before we’re in camera range.
We don’t get a chance to announce ourselves. The gates roll open as we approach. It’s a circular drive, and we stop at the top of it. As we get out, I inhale the distinct smell of horses and glance over to see a distant barn. There’s a pool around the other side with markers for swimming laps. I can also see what looks like a range with tar
gets. Archery? Marksmanship? Either way, it tells me to be careful around Marius. He might seem laid-back, but he deals in war, and I suspect it’s more than just a random career choice.
The door opens before we get there. Marius steps out. The tux is gone, replaced with jeans and a T-shirt. His feet are bare, and he has a beer in hand. It’s a very different look, one that I suspect is more to his natural taste, like this estate with all its toys for active living.
“I feel overdressed,” I say as we climb the stairs.
He laughs. “I’d say to make yourself comfortable, but that could sound suggestive. I got out of that monkey suit the first chance I had. Feel free to kick off your shoes and lose the tie and jacket.”
We step inside, and I remove my heels. Connolly keeps his shoes and tie on but does let Marius take his jacket.
“Head on into the living room,” Marius says with a wave down a side hall. “I’ll give Vess a shout.”
“She isn’t here?” I say.
His voice drifts back as he takes Connolly’s jacket away. “We split up after the party fiasco. She’s changing back at her hotel. I said I’d call when you got here.”
I glance at Connolly. He has his phone out, and he’s texting. A moment later, he nods, confirming that Vanessa replied. Nothing suspicious, then.
We head in the direction Marius indicated. It takes us down a hall and then opens into a cavernous room with several seating areas, as if it’d originally been for large-scale entertaining, and he’s tried to make more of a comfortable setup. I don’t see which seating arrangement he’d been using, and I’m about to let Connolly choose one when I see the statues. Gorgeous Greco-Roman statues in each corner, which of course require closer examination.
“His own private museum,” Connolly muses as I approach one.
“Right? No wonder he hasn’t made this into multiple rooms. These statues would overwhelm a smaller space.”
“That one looks familiar,” he says.
Cursed Luck, Book 1 Page 25
