by Robyn Nyx
Chase accepted the glass and nodded, taken aback that Rayne had remembered another trivial detail.
“Do you remember when I bought you your first bottle? You drank all of it over ice before I read the label—”
“And it was supposed to be heated. Yeah, I remember. I can’t believe you do.”
Rayne shrugged. “I remember everything about those years.”
Chase took a long drink to avoid looking into Rayne’s eyes, which were calling for her to jump in. What was her end game? Other than the obvious, and Chase wasn’t falling for that. “Back to stealing the map…” Chase said and leaned into the sofa, affecting a relaxed pose she certainly didn’t feel.
“Okay. We need to liberate the map from the Grande. Ginn and Tonyck are on their way with everything we need for that part of the operation. Once we have the map, we’ll board a chartered jet to Rio, hire a local guide, and find the Golden Trinity.” Rayne smiled and sat back in her chair as if that should explain everything.
“Why do you keep saying ‘we’?” Chase knew Rayne had her team, and her gorilla girls were imminent. But the “we” sounded more inclusive than that.
“I’m glad you ask.” Rayne raised her glass. “I want you to come with me. Hence, we.” She sipped her drink but made a face like she didn’t fully appreciate the taste. “Like old times.”
Chase blinked hard. Where to start? Old times had been successful until Florida, and Florida was a success for Rayne. She laughed. It seemed like the only reasonable response to the nonsense Rayne had just fed her.
“Look. I understand your reaction, and most likely, your trepidation, but—”
“No shit? How terribly wonderful of you,” Chase said, mimicking Rayne’s particularly proper way of speaking. “There’s so many things wrong with everything you’ve just said that I’m struggling to decide how to prioritize my responses.” Rayne opened her mouth to talk, but Chase thrust a finger up to silence her. “Firstly, no to being any kind of accomplice to your crazy criminal activity. Secondly, no to working with you even though it is the Golden Trinity. And thirdly, just no. No to everything.” Chase put her glass on the table a little too heavily, reminding her that Noemie might already be asleep. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I don’t understand why you’re here, Rayne. I don’t understand at all.”
“Can I speak now?”
Chase caught the edge of impatience in Rayne’s voice, and it scratched at her own patience with this whole situation. “No. You don’t get to do that. You turn up at my house, a house I haven’t even given you the address to, at midnight with some wild tale and expect me to work with you? I’m the only one in this room who has the right to be annoyed. Okay?”
Rayne began to raise an eyebrow to give Chase that look that always made her feel a little bit admonished and a little bit turned on. Tonight though, she was in no mood to be either of those things, and she was glad when Rayne didn’t follow through on the full expression.
“I’m sorry, and you’re absolutely right,” Rayne said, put down her glass, and clasped her hands in front of her. “I needed to act fast, and I just expected you to be ready to jump with me without much thought. I was wrong.”
Chase wiggled her finger in her ear. She couldn’t be hearing right. Rayne had said the two things that Chase couldn’t recall her ever admitting to: being sorry and wrong. This, the Zenobia thing, and the meal last night were really making it look as though an alien mind swap had occurred. She looked like Rayne. She sounded like Rayne. But she couldn’t be Rayne.
“Turner is a loon. He wants the treasure no matter the cost. And I don’t mean money.” Rayne ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “He’ll go through any tribes he comes across, and he said he’d hire Oscar Owen if I didn’t take the job.”
Rayne fell silent, and the gravity of her words settled on Chase’s mind like a lead weight. Owen’s reputation was a particularly vile one. The thought of Rayne being mixed up with him flipped her stomach and not in a good butterflies kind of way. His penchant for violence and his flagrant disregard for women were well known in the business, but he always managed to stay out of Johnny Lawman’s hands. If Turner was willing to contract Owen’s services, he was bad news in every way.
“I need your help, Chase. I need your expertise with the map. You’ll understand it better than I can, what colors they used and why, the meaning of the positions of symbols. I can do this, but I can do it faster and better with you. I don’t know if Turner has made digital copies of the map, so stealing it doesn’t necessarily stop him. This could turn out to be a race, and me stealing the map will give us a head start in getting to the Golden Trinity and making sure everyone on the way is kept safe and away from harm. Once we have the map, Turner’s bound to recruit Owen.” Rayne reached out and touched Chase’s knee gently. “I know what I’m asking of you. I understand you’re reluctant and that you still might say no… But I have to ask.”
Rayne had been opening and closing her hand over and over as she spoke, a little tell that meant she had something else to say. But what more could there be? Chase wanted the whole picture for her to even consider Rayne’s plea. “There’s something else…What is it?”
Rayne looked away for a brief moment and shook her head. “Isn’t that enough?”
“No, don’t do that. You don’t get to pick and choose what I should or shouldn’t know. This isn’t just another expedition. You’re asking me to put my life at risk to join you.”
Rayne looked away again and ran her fingers over her forehead. “How can you still tell when I’m holding something back?”
Rayne’s body language was talking up a storm. Chase smiled. “If I told you that, you’d stop doing it. Spill.”
“He mentioned your name and expertise.” Rayne clenched her jaw and her fist. “I think if I pushed him into this corner, he’d come and get you, whether you wanted to go or not.”
Chase closed her eyes and shut out everything but her own thoughts. The Golden Trinity might or might not be real. Either way, it had put the lives of innocent people at risk. And Rayne had laid that at her feet. She must have known how Chase would react when given the story, or at least hoped for that reaction, but did Rayne have any choice either? Doing the right thing was unfamiliar territory for Rayne. It was Chase’s playground. Teaming up again was a bad idea on so many levels, but Chase couldn’t see a way to avoid it and live with herself. The possibility of Owen slicing through people with a machete as though they were troublesome vines sickened her.
And Rayne. If anything happened to her…she squeezed her eyes shut tighter against the invasion of images of Rayne coming head to head with Owen. Finally, there was the Golden Trinity. If—a big if—it was real and they found it, Chase could ensure it went to the Brazilian government and their people. And she’d stop Rayne from profiting from it on the black market.
She opened her eyes and met Rayne’s gaze. There was a vulnerability there that Chase hadn’t seen before. She had no chance of kicking her out and letting her get on with it. Chase had a lot of questions, but right now she could see that Rayne just needed an answer. God, she knew she was going to regret this. “I’ll help you, but I’m having nothing to do with whatever your plan is to steal the map. I’m sure your gorilla girls can handle that without me.”
Rayne smiled. “You won’t regret it, Chase. I promise.”
Chase nodded, amused by Rayne’s optimism and sure that she would almost certainly regret it. “But we have to discuss what happens to the Golden Trinity if we find it.”
“Sure.” Rayne raised her glass. “To saving lives and finding the largest haul of treasure in recorded history.”
Chase clinked her glass to Rayne’s and knocked it back. She was going to need more than a little liquid courage if they came face-to-face with Oscar Owen.
Chapter Ten
“This is my plan, Tonyck,” Rayne said, frustration scratching at her mind like steel nails down a chalkboard. “I won’t stay out of th
e action.” She punched the penthouse level button with a little more force than intended and caught the alarm. A high-pitched bell rang twice before someone’s disembodied voice filled the metal box.
“Is there a problem?”
“Apologies. There’s no problem. I caught the alarm when I pressed for another floor. Everything’s fine.”
Tonyck glared at Rayne, the unspoken tension clear in her eyes.
“There’s no need for emergency services?” the woman asked.
“No, no. All is well, thank you.” Rayne pushed her hair behind her ear and avoided further eye contact with Tonyck.
“Okay. Could you depress the alarm to deactivate the emergency response, please?”
“Of course,” Rayne said and did as asked, conscious that the last thing they needed were any cops in the building when they were about to perpetrate a crime. “Apologies again.”
“Fine,” the woman said, and an electronic clunk sounded the end of the conversation.
The possibility that the voice might still be listening hushed the lecture she’d been in the middle of delivering to Tonyck.
Tonyck took her reticence as an opportunity to defend herself. “All I’m saying is, be careful. This is new territory for you.” She ignored Rayne’s widening eyes warning her to stop speaking. “The map is your focus.”
Rayne clenched her jaw, the only way she could stop herself from responding. She was the one who decided whose focus should be where. She concentrated on the flickering lights of the hotel floors as they came and went in an effort to distract herself from her anger. They had a plan and she’d stick to it, of course. She respected both Tonyck’s and Ginn’s experience in hostile situations, and she didn’t begin to believe that she knew better. But she wouldn’t be rushed away if something went wrong or they had to deviate from the plan. Tonyck’s suggestion that Rayne simply get out of there and out of harm’s way if there was trouble wouldn’t fly. Rayne had no intention of doing anything of the sort. She might pay G&T danger money, but she didn’t pay them to take the fall for her. All of this has been her idea, and she’d see it through. No matter what.
Rayne quickly navigated her way through the sequence of events they’d planned. Once the elevator door opened on Turner’s level, there would be no going back.
“Second thoughts?” Ginn asked as if she’d reached into Rayne’s mind and pulled them out for inspection.
Rayne shook her head, willing the elevator to move faster. As exciting as she’d thought doing something this flagrantly illegal might be, she now wanted to get it over with so they could start the real adventure of finding the Golden Trinity. Tonyck tapped Rayne’s upper arm. When Rayne looked at her, Tonyck had narrowed her eyes. “You know you actually see less, not more, when you do that?” Rayne motioned to Tonyck’s face. “It doesn’t give you the power to see into my mind.” The elevator pinged to sound its arrival at the penthouse. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
The doors opened to reveal the same guy on door duty as before. She nodded to Tonyck, their sign to indicate there’d been no change. Tonyck had been concerned that the ex-military team Turner had mentioned might already be present. She didn’t visibly relax, and Rayne felt her own shoulders tense in anticipation of any changes they might find inside Turner’s suite. His door opened and Turner came into view.
“Trouble with the elevator?” the door guy asked.
He nodded to G&T with what Rayne had come to learn was the military nod, their version of gaydar.
“Just me being clumsy and catching the alarm,” Rayne said as she stepped out of the elevator and approached. Each step felt unsteady, and she straightened, summoning the sashay swagger she usually affected so easily. Now wasn’t the time to allow nerves to creep in.
“That wouldn’t be something I would have thought you to be, Ms. Marcellus,” Turner said.
He smiled and Rayne saw that unsavory look in his eyes she’d come to expect in men like him, a sickly mixture of desire and entitlement. She pushed down her answering desire to punch him in his smug face. He’d obviously become very used to women servicing his every whim, even though he had to pay for the privilege. She returned his smile and stopped at the doorway waiting for him to move aside.
“Come in,” he said, barely moving.
Rayne slipped past, careful not to touch any part of him. She wondered if he thought of her as bought and paid for in ways other than for her treasure hunting expertise. He’d be sorely disappointed. She turned to see him attempt to close the door on G&T, but Tonyck slapped her hand against the heavy wood.
Turner looked at Rayne. “Do they need to come in?”
Rayne nodded and pointed toward them both, reining in the small hiccup of panic that bubbled in her stomach. She couldn’t execute their plan by herself. “They have the equipment I said I was dropping off with you.”
Tonyck pulled on a strap to her backpack with her free hand, and she mixed her accompanying expression of obvious impatience with a snarl.
“Of course,” Turner said and stepped aside with an exaggerated shake of his head. “I’d forgotten about the equipment.”
Rayne turned around and was relieved to see the briefcase containing the map was parked under the table in the living area. Turner’s mute buddy, Rich, sat on the couch opposite and nodded to her. He raised his glass and pointed to it, she assumed to offer her one. Could it be this easy?
“That’s okay. I’ll help myself.” Rayne walked over to him as casually as she could manage. “Can I top you up?” He nodded and Rayne’s heart rate quickened. “Gin?” Rich shook his head. “Vodka?” He nodded again. Rayne took the glass, walked beyond him, and set it on the side table where a colorful array of bottled spirits were arranged. She retrieved the small baggie of crushed Rohypnol from the inside of her bra and emptied it into the inch of vodka in Rich’s glass. She reached for the Absolut as she swirled his glass to mix the drug.
“Sorry, Ms. Marcellus,” Turner said as he swept up to Rayne’s side. “Rich can be such an ass when it comes to looking after a woman. Allow me.”
He positioned himself so close to her that her level of discomfort forced her to step away. She slipped the empty baggie into the pocket of her trousers and kept her focus on Turner. The pulse in her throat felt like it might jump out of her mouth. “It’s not a problem.”
“Nonsense. You’re our guest. You shouldn’t be serving yourself. And you definitely shouldn’t be refilling that lazy drunk’s glass.”
Rayne glanced across at Rich who’d responded to Turner’s comment with an extended middle finger. In another situation, she might’ve sympathized with Rich. She couldn’t imagine not being able to communicate verbally.
“What’s your poison?” Turner asked.
He smiled and Rayne controlled any visual response. His grin seemed to be getting more sexually loaded every time he directed it her way. She pointed to a distinctive bottle that attracted her attention because it looked like a pear-shaped woman. “I’d love to try the Appleton Fifty.”
Turner raised his eyebrows and looked impressed. “Great choice. That’s the most expensive spirit on the table. There were only eight hundred bottles of this made, you know? It’s smooth enough that you should enjoy it neat,” he said, pouring three fingers’ worth into a lead crystal tumbler then offered it to her with a flourish. “Enjoy five hundred dollars of liquid elegance.”
Rayne balked and held up her hand. “Goodness, I couldn’t possibly.” Expensive liquors didn’t excite Rayne, and his pretentiousness chafed at her growing desire to smash the glass over his head, grab the briefcase, and run. Every additional moment in Turner’s company made her more determined to thwart his continuing exploitation of South America. First timber and now hidden treasure.
“Once you find the Golden Trinity, liquor like this will flow like tap water.” Turner took Rayne’s hand and pressed the glass into her palm. “I insist.”
His hands felt like frog skin on hers, and she withdrew with
the glass as quickly as possible without spilling the ridiculously priced drink. It took all her restraint not to snatch up a napkin from the table and wipe away the feeling of slimy mucus from her hands. She took a short sniff of the rum, intrigued to discover how the smell of a five-thousand-dollar bottle of rum differed from a twenty-dollar special. Her nostrils filled with a hint of cinnamon, but above that, she couldn’t detect any of the other top, middle, or bottom notes or whatever the hell it was she was supposed to be able to smell. She glanced over the top of her glass to see Turner waiting expectantly for her verdict. Rayne sipped it and nodded. “It’s magnificent.”
Turner filled Rich’s glass with vodka, while keeping his gaze on Rayne. The white powder had dissolved, so half their plan was in motion. Rayne flashed a look Tonyck’s way and blinked once to confirm she’d dropped the drug.
“If you want it,” Turner said in Rich’s direction, “you need to fetch it.”
He wafted the glass in the air and a few drops fell onto the carpet in movie-like slow motion.
Tonyck wandered over. “I’m happy to serve an old member of my unit,” she said as she took the glass from Turner with no resistance, went back toward the sofa, and handed it to Rich.
Rayne twisted her rope ring while she tried to convince herself that Rich being ex-Special Forces wouldn’t alter Tonyck’s loyalty. She cautioned herself within seconds; Tonyck was making sure Rich received the drug. Being in the Special Forces didn’t make him any less of a murderous asshole.
“How did you two come to work for Ms. Marcellus?” Turner asked after he’d made his own drink and clinked his glass to Rayne’s.
Tonyck had dropped the equipment bag beside the door and retaken her position beside her sister. “We answered a Craigslist ad,” she said without missing a beat.
Rich grinned widely, snorted, and a strange laughing sound emerged from his mouth. He raised his glass toward the twins and downed the contents in one gulp. Tonyck winked and the corner of her mouth turned up slightly. Turner cleared his throat, noticeably uncomfortable at being excluded from their inexplicable in-joke. Rayne had no idea either so she shrugged and shook her head.
