by Wren Weston
Lila sent a quick message to Sutton, asking her to take the commanders’ meeting, as she’d be out all morning. Then she dried her hair, put a thick layer of concealer over her jaw, slipped on a formal militia uniform, and hurried downstairs.
Giggles erupted from the morning room. A deep answering rumble followed.
Good. They’d started without her.
“Lila girl,” her father said when she peeked into the morning room. “We were waiting.”
“Not so much that we didn’t start eating, though,” Pax said. “We know how you are.”
“Oh, how am I?” Lila hugged her father and Pax, happy that her brother seemed distracted from his troubles this morning. Her father had worked a bit of magic on him, and he had almost finished an entire plate of French toast and bacon.
“Unable to find an excuse to miss breakfast.”
Pax grinned proudly as the prime minister winked in agreement.
Lila sat across from her brother. “Sometimes I think you like my father more than you like your own.”
“Mine’s too serious. You have all the luck. Mine usually just rambles on and on about legislation.”
“Senator Blanc is an important man with important thoughts,” the chairwoman said.
“Boring thoughts.”
“He merely respects you enough to converse about adult matters,” Lemaire said. “He was better with you when you were a toddler. He knew what to talk about then.”
Pax shrugged and chewed on his French toast while Isabel put Lila’s plate down before her. True to her word, Chef had made a few pancakes and doused them in maple syrup.
The chairwoman clucked her tongue as soon as she saw it. “Was it too much to ask that you eat the same as the rest of the family?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, we should be so honored.”
“Perhaps I’d join you for breakfast more often if you actually woke up early enough to have it. Usually you’re still snoring when I leave for the security office.”
“I do not snore.”
“You snore.”
The chairwoman sighed. “I have a condition, Lila.”
“Didn’t you just claim that you didn’t snore?”
“Ladies.” The prime minister cleared his throat.
“She started it.” Lila shrugged, nibbling her bacon, glad her mother had been too busy with her father last night to learn about Alex. Regardless, it would be one of those breakfasts. Since she couldn’t get out of it, she’d eat quickly and leave.
Not that she was all that hungry.
“Is that sausage on your plate, Father?”
The prime minister poked at a link and chewed heartily. “Of course it is. I can’t miss Chef’s best dish. I’ll do a bit of extra running later.”
“Exercise isn’t the issue. Neither is your weight.”
“Your mother tells me you haven’t been sleeping here lately. Care to elaborate?”
“No. Nice dodge, though.”
“Lila?”
“It’s called work, Father. It’s also called privacy and being a grown woman.”
Her mother lifted her fork. “Prime heirs tell their matrons when—”
“Prime heirs don’t bother after they’ve been cut. Besides, I’m not prime any longer. We could talk about your private life instead, if you want.” Lila smiled innocently as her mother picked up her wine glass. “Hey, Pax, do you think we’re getting a new heir in nine months?”
“Probably,” Pax whispered a little too loudly, his eyes bouncing from mother to daughter, full of his old mirth. “They were both really loud for a really long time.”
“Yes, I heard spanking.”
Her mother’s face reddened, and not from embarrassment. “Elizabeth Victoria Lemaire-Randolph, you—”
“You started it.”
“I love it when you come to breakfast, Lila.” Pax smirked, patting his belly as he leaned back in his chair to watch the show.
Her father finally surrendered and took the same approach.
It took ten minutes and many more volleys and spikes on both their sides before Lila could slip back upstairs and change. Luckily, the chairwoman had said nothing about Alex.
The clothes in Lila’s closet swung like a pendulum as she pushed them aside to open her secret compartment. She donned bland, unmarked clothes and stuffed her servant’s garb into her satchel, as well as everything she might need to break into Mr. Nottingham’s home. She also grabbed her Colt and tucked her knife into her boot.
Her father caught her at the door, asking for an update, but she only shrugged and said that she hadn’t found anything yet. It wasn’t the time or the place to talk at length or in specifics.
What could she tell him, anyway? That she hadn’t done any research at all? That she’d let the New Bristol oracle screw with her mind? That the woman had said awful things about the man she wanted to take as a lover, a man he also wanted her to stay away from?
Screw both of them.
Lila hadn’t made it ten steps from the great house before someone else sought an audience. Her cousin Johnny Beaulieu put down a stack of flower-filled pots and hurried over.
“I’d almost believe you were waiting for me,” Lila said when he approached, his muscles sleek, his skin tan and sweaty from the sun. As the man in charge of every landscaper and every blade of grass on the Randolph compounds, he spent a great deal of time in it.
“I was. Can I walk you to the garage?”
Lila nodded. They followed the gravel path, their feet crunching the rocks underfoot. The sticklike rose bushes he’d planted the week before waved in the warm breeze beside them, still bud-less and brown. “I have to ask you something, chief, but it’s not really appropriate.”
“When has that ever stopped either of us before?”
“You may regret encouraging me before we’re done.”
Lila knew his question already. “I don’t know anything of Ms. Wilson’s current feelings toward you. I’ll probably never know anything about her again.”
He nodded, seemingly unsurprised at the news.
“She broke things off with you, didn’t she?”
He offered another frustrated nod. “Last week. She said that she wants nothing to do with the Randolphs anymore. She said the Randolphs had fucked her for long enough. Now whenever I see her on the compound, she hurries off in a different direction.”
“You and me both.” Lila opened the garage door. It screeched as it rose to the top. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Johnny. I did.”
“You had some part in her mother and brother being charged, didn’t you?”
Lila didn’t answer.
“So the rumors are true? You’re thinking of sending her away, aren’t you?”
“After the executions. It’s cruel to keep her here, and it’s hurting her. She deserves a fresh start somewhere new.”
“Really? How’s she supposed to get that now?” He pressed his palm into her hand. “It’s all over the compound. Gossip channels, too.”
Lila skimmed the headlines on his newsfeed. Alex appeared in several. So did Lila. “It didn’t take the matrons long, didn’t it?” Her mother had known about Alex at breakfast, and she hadn’t even broached the topic.
That was not a good sign.
“Did she really do what they claim? Did she hit you?”
Lila nodded.
“The article made it seem like a brutal attack, like she’d gone crazy.” His eyes trailed along her face, as though he didn’t believe she’d been struck at all.
Lila had no desire to show him the bruises. “The High Council pushes drama, but it was assault. Alex forced my hand, whether she intended to or not.”
“So you had to arrest her? I’m pretty sure the Randolph heir and chief of security can do whatever the fuck she
wants.”
“That’s what you wanted to talk about, wasn’t it?”
He stepped into her space, his mouth far too close to her nose. “Drop the charges. Drop them or so help me—”
“So help you, you’ll do what?”
A patrol of six passed by the garage. The blackcoats cast a wary eye at Johnny. One even gripped the tranq gun at his side.
Lila waved them on. She didn’t need anyone to witness Johnny’s lapse in propriety.
The audience slinked away, as did Johnny’s temper. “Drop the charges. If she’s ever been your friend, drop them and let me go pick her up.”
“So you can rush in and play the hero?”
“Fuck you.”
“She’s already back at the compound. There’s nothing to be done.”
“Drop the charges.”
“No. Let me remind you of something. Alex chose to assault me in front of the High Council. Not just in front of one judge, or two judges, but all of them. She gave me few options. Do you know what sort of headlines would have been in the news if I hadn’t? The Allied Lands takes a dim view of assault, but it takes an even dimmer view of a chief or a High Council judge who lets it go unpunished right under her nose.”
“You arrested your own friend to preserve your reputation?”
“Not my reputation. Do you know what sort of problems would begin creeping up on the compound if I hadn’t? Problems with the slaves, with the servants, even with criminals picked up by the militia? I did what I could. I spared her from arrest in front of the matrons. I let her salvage that much pride, but she chose this. Don’t forget it.”
“How very generous of you.”
“I don’t get to pick and choose who to arrest, you ass. If she had done it at the great house when we were alone, then I would have gotten that choice, just like the last time her temper got the better of her. I didn’t have a choice there.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Now that we’ve gotten the Wilson fortune, Alex is useless. The chairwoman will sell her to the LeBeaus at auction, and they’ll put her in the mines.”
“I’m not going to let that happen. Alex is my best friend, regardless of how she feels about me right now, regardless of what you believe. So long as I’m an heir, she’ll stay on a Randolph compound where I can ensure that she’s safe and that no one’s making a mockery of her.”
“Yes, because you’ve done so well lately.” His nostrils flared. Before Lila could say anything else, he bowed slightly and dashed down the gravel path.
Lila watched him go. She couldn’t chase after him. Even if she had the time, she didn’t have the right words.
Instead, she pulled off a set of keys from the pegs near the garage door and wandered among the vehicles inside. She needed stealth and anonymity. She needed the Cruz sedan. After removing the bugs and disabling the GPS, she slipped on her sunglasses and drove from the garage.
When she stopped at the south gate, her eyes traveled toward Aunt Georgina’s bridal block. A familiar Barracuda had stopped near a fire hydrant. Its scarred rider swiped at his palm as though he wasn’t paying attention.
Lila rolled down her window and waited for Sergeant Hill to approach. “Sergeant, have you seen—”
“The silver Barracuda?”
“Yes.”
Hill wiped the sweat from under his sentry cap. “We’ve been watching him for two hours. We just need to confirm his target so we can build a stalking case. Is he here for you?
“Yes.”
“You leading him somewhere?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to?” He grinned. “It would help our case if he followed you a bit.”
“Too busy today, sergeant. I’d be much obliged if your men intercepted him instead. Stash him in a holding cell for loitering until you hear from me.” Though her militia could only hold Mr. Nottingham for a few hours before writing him a ticket and kicking him loose, it would be plenty of time to conduct an illegal search of his apartment, especially if she had help.
Hill took off his hat and scratched his ear. Seconds later, three motorcycles came at Mr. Nottingham from several different directions, pinning the Barracuda in before Mr. Nottingham could start the engine and get away. Two blackcoats emerged from the florists and tugged him off his bike, cuffing him without incident.
Hill pulled down the hem of his officer’s jacket, standing up straight and tall as the blackcoats walked Mr. Nottingham toward the security office. “That’s how we do things at the south gate.”
“Damn straight. Great job as always, Sergeant Hill. Take your people to Juniper at close of shift. My treat. I’ll tell the hostess to expect you.”
Hill licked his lips. “Juniper? Are you kidding me?”
“I never kid about steak.” Lila pulled away and sent a quick message to the manager of Juniper’s Steakhouse, warning her to plan ahead for a dozen hungry and boisterous militia.
Ten minutes later, Lila parallel-parked in front of a lowborn convenience store and walked north for one block. Tristan opened his truck door with a squeak as she turned the corner, smiling warmly as he jogged to meet them. Dixon stayed inside, his gaze not meeting hers. Instead, he watched the people walking on the street, their thin, sweaty t-shirts waving in the warm breeze, their boots crumpling scraps of paper and cigarette butts underfoot.
“Fry’s on the roof, Sam’s in the back, and Dice is watching the front in case this guy decides to bolt,” Tristan said, jutting his chin down the block.
Lila had no desire to wind a scarf around half her face in the heat, merely to hide from Tristan’s people. “Pull them off. Our target is in a holding cell. My people picked him up for loitering just as I pulled out of the compound.”
“A quick search, then?”
“Very. I have bigger fish, Tristan.”
“So he’s a little fish?”
“The smallest. A minnow. He’s just some guy who followed me after the council meeting last night. I want to know why.” When Dixon slipped from the truck, the group headed toward Mr. Nottingham’s apartment building.
“What do you know?”
“Not much. I only had time to run his plates. I was busy with other things last night.”
“Other things?”
“I’m digging into Natalie Holguín’s disappearance. I suspect it might be connected to Oskar.”
“So you were researching?”
“Yes. I didn’t find out much, though. I found a few of her rental properties, but I doubt she’ll use them due to the paper trail. I just need to cross them off my list.”
“We could do it today. I could go with you.”
“I have work, Tristan. Besides, I have a few people on it already.”
“You could have done your research at the shop.”
“I can’t come over every night. People are already asking questions.”
“So? Let them ask.”
“When you get ambushed by your parents at breakfast about your sex life, then come talk to me about letting people ask questions.”
The group entered the apartment building as soon as someone emerged from the locked door. The building was average and well maintained, with enough well-off workborns inside for light bulbs to survive night after night.
“According to official records, Finn Nottingham is single and lives alone,” she whispered as they climbed upstairs. “The database isn’t always current, though. We have to be careful.”
Tristan and Dixon loitered in the stairwell while Lila strode to Mr. Nottingham’s door. She knocked absently and slipped a lock-picking tool from the hem of her shirt with her other hand.
Lila wasn’t prepared for the door to open. A blond man answered, a giant whose head and wide shoulders grazed the doorframe. He wore a thin t-shirt and a pair of jeans, almost like Max in attire, but certainly not body.<
br />
He looked at her expectantly and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “Can I help you?”
Inside, a little girl screamed.
Chapter 12
Lila dodged the man and rushed inside, searching for the child. She launched herself through a brightly lit kitchen, pots and pans still on the burners, and a dining room half set for breakfast. She found the girl in the den, her screams turning into laughter as an older girl chased her. Cartoons played on the screen in the front of the room.
“Freeze,” the man called out behind Lila.
The two girls stopped instantly, leaking a few giggles unable to be bitten back. The smaller child might have been around five years old, stout and dark-haired and dressed in blackcoat costume. A plastic Colt flopped in a cloth holster around her middle. The older blonde wore a simple dress, with an oversized white robe atop it, the ends swirling around her legs. Neither looked like the girls Mr. Nottingham had been accused of kidnapping.
Lila held her breath, unsure what to do, and dropped her drawn Colt to her thigh.
The man walked to the middle of the den and crouched before the girls. “What did I say about running in the apartment? Especially this morning?”
The two girls looked at one another then scrambled to the couch, heavy-footed, with tiny toes slapping against the hardwood floor. They looked at him innocently, their feet disappearing underneath their laps.
The man sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes. “Your friends can come inside, madam.”
“My friends?”
“The ones outside,” he said, his words thick with a La Verde accent. “I’m going to stand up now, if it’s okay with you. My knees aren’t what they used to be. I’d appreciate it if you put that gun away. The girls are too young for it, and I have a heart condition.”
He stood up slowly and extended his hand. “I’m Jake.”
Lila put her Colt back in her holster. The apartment door closed with a little snick, and Tristan and Dixon watched from the kitchen, arms crossed over their chests.
Lila shook Jake’s hand.
“I’m sorry about all the noise. We’re moving into a house next month.”
“I’m not a neighbor.”
