Dead Weight

by Kat Faitour

  “You know I always go see the horses alone.”

  Clara eased herself into the chair next to Ruby, grimacing slightly as her hip audibly popped. “You seem to prefer to do a lot of things alone.” She laid one veined hand upon the table next to Ruby’s. Near but not touching.

  Ruby closed the distance by stretching her pinky finger out to tap Clara’s. “You know me too well.” She smiled, feeling oddly nostalgic. “Better than anyone, I guess.”

  Clara shifted in her seat toward Ruby. “Not everyone.”

  In spite of herself, Ruby leaned away, shaking her head. “Don’t go there. Please.”

  In the distance, there was the sound of muted laughter accompanied by the whinnies of horses. Ruby wished she’d joined the rest of the group when she had the chance.

  “I have to.” Now Clara placed her hand over Ruby’s. The differences between them were acute. One pale; one dark. One young; the other old. But it was the similarities that kept Ruby in place.

  She and Clara were tethered by bonds of loyalty and trust, forged from fires of loss and tragedy. Ruby would sooner cut off her limb than reject Clara.

  She sighed, meeting the older woman’s eyes with a level look. “We don’t need to discuss him. Everything is under control.”

  Of course, she meant Liam O’Donnell.

  They’d grown up together, as all the Orphans had, in Johannesburg, South Africa. They’d come from different parts of the world, from different parents and families, to be schooled in one place.

  They’d laughed, learned, and suffered. All of them—Ruby, Mason, Noor, Cullen, and Hope.

  And Liam.

  But while Liam was a part of their past, he’d refused their present.

  Liam wasn’t truly an Orphan. He never had been and never would be.

  “He’s tracking you.” Clara wasn’t about to give up. “He followed you to that casino you worked at in London. He got hung up there on another case, but my sources say he’s on his way to Monaco.”

  Ruby kept her silence, thinking. She’d worked at Club Hobart, a private gaming club in London, for a period of months, and she’d liked the people she met there. Too much to steal from them. Besides, it turned out they had no connection to the diamond market in London, which was the original reason she’d targeted the private casino. When Liam showed up, she’d hastily moved on to Monte Carlo.

  She dealt Baccarat, poker, and Blackjack. When opportunity presented itself, she lifted diamonds, sapphires, and pearls from guests’ rooms and vaults. On rare occasions, she slipped off with platinum cufflinks, permanently borrowed from unsuspecting gentlemen at her tables.

  But never rubies. There was only one ruby she’d ever been interested in, and it was long gone.

  She shut down the thought. Her mind could only be in the present. Distractions were dangerous.

  Monaco had proven itself to be an excellent practice ground for thieving. And no one was the wiser about her activities, of that she was confident.

  Of course, that would all change if Liam arrived. Liam was INTERPOL. And when INTERPOL started sniffing around the exclusive playgrounds of the extraordinarily wealthy, people got nervous.

  Ruby pushed her chair out and rose, pacing the length of the farm table. She was twitchy herself. Why was Liam dogging her trail?

  And why now?

  She turned back to Clara, who remained sitting at the table with her hands folded in front of her. She looked supremely unconcerned, even serene. But Ruby knew her appearance belied a shrewd strategist coupled with sharp intellect.

  Ruby dropped back into her chair. “I should leave Monte Carlo.”

  “Yes.”

  Unequivocal. Damn, but she’d liked Monaco. And maybe there was a small and tiny piece of her that wished she would come face to face with Liam again. She shrugged off the thought. “I’ll wrap things up when I return.” She pushed at the table, rocking her chair onto its back legs. She watched as Clara bit back her instinctive order for her to stop. “I haven’t really thought about where to go next.” She let the chair drop down.

  “You’re restless, baby girl. You always have been.”

  It was true. Ruby was the group’s wanderer. She’d never found the place where she wanted to put down roots. To belong.

  “Maybe it’s just a coincidence that Liam was in London. And maybe your source is wrong about him coming to Monaco.”

  Clara examined her. “That could be true if he hadn’t wound up in Club Hobart, your exact location prior to moving on. But you don’t believe in coincidences any more than I do. And we can’t take the chance.”

  Ruby stiffened. “Liam would never do anything to hurt one of us.”

  Clara inhaled, her nostrils flaring slightly. “We don’t know that. He’s an agent, Ruby. An INTERPOL agent.” The breath rushed out of her. “You have to accept we’re on opposite sides now.”

  “I accept that.” Ruby couldn’t control the slight waver in her voice. “But I can’t believe he would ever do anything to hurt any one of us. Especially me.” She blinked rapidly and stood up to leave. “He couldn’t, Clara.”

  Ruby only hoped she was right.

  Chapter 2

  Mason sat at the desk in his Johannesburg hotel room, quietly reviewing the dossier he’d compiled on Margaux Taylor. The photograph inserted in the file revealed the most stunningly beautiful woman Mason had ever seen.

  Long, golden-blonde hair curled around her face and shoulders. Sitting outdoors amidst sun and trees, she seemed lit from within. Pale-green eyes stared back at him in an expression of beguiling temptation. He couldn’t help but wonder who’d taken the photograph and what they meant to the woman featured.

  Mason shook his head, pushing the whimsical thought away. Admittedly, he was not immune to being captured by such rare beauty. But it wouldn’t do to start imagining what she was like as a person. And who might be important to her.

  He stretched, rubbing at the tension in the back of his neck. Distaste with himself and what he was about to do soured his stomach. If he wouldn’t need all his wits about him, he’d have a drink to take off the edge.

  His eyes drifted around his hotel suite. He was staying in one of the top luxury hotels in Johannesburg, atop a hill that overlooked most of the city spread below. The exterior was pale stucco, the roof was done in terra-cotta tiles, and large columns and balustrades highlighted the extensive outdoor terraces and balconies.

  Mason was forced to admit the hotel spoke of elegance, class, and the comfort that accompanied significant money. Unfortunately, it did so with a decidedly continental accent.

  He found it hard to stomach the still prevalent evidence of European colonialism. This country—hell, this continent—had been occupied, exploited, and ravaged of its natural resources. Including, and most especially, its people.

  He shoved the dossier away from him. Companies like Taylor sickened him. It was British to the bone and owned several mines across the continent. Even, he suspected, in areas banned from the diamond trade due to conflict.

  But that didn’t stop companies like Taylor or the families that owned them. The Kimberley Process was put in place to certify diamonds as conflict-free. But everyone inside the industry knew there were ways around the certification. Besides, it was based on the word of the countries and mines in question.

  An honor system founded on a business with no honor.

  He knuckled his eyes, trying hard to push away the bitterness that always rose like bile when he contemplated the diamond trade. If he hadn’t lost so much to it himself, he might enjoy the irony of such an ugly industry that traded on beauty.

  This was why he rarely, if possible, returned to South Africa. As soon as he’d finished his education at the private academy, he’d packed his things for graduate school and left, hardly ever looking back.

  He sucked in a deep breath and held it, counting several beats, then released it slowly. He did this several times to remind himself why he’d come and who he was responsible
for.

  The Orphans.

  They were his family. They looked to him for guidance. Others—outsiders—may not understand, but they each lived by their own code, comprised of courage and character. Their mission provided purpose and passion.

  His laptop chimed to indicate an incoming video call. He clicked the receive icon, and Ruby Stark’s face instantly filled his screen.

  “Hey, Mase!”

  As always, seeing Ruby immediately cheered him.

  “Hey, Rube. What’s up?”

  She tilted her head, eyeing him. Her dark auburn hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and he could just make out a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

  “I’m checking in to make sure you’re ready. After all, it’s been a while since you lowered yourself to base thieving.” Back in Antwerp, the Orphans had sat with Clara and planned Mason’s approach to stealing the Taylor diamonds. “Is everything good to go? Or do I need to come down there and show you how it’s done?”

  “Shut it, brat.” He exhaled, puffing out his cheeks. “I’m as prepared as I can be. Margaux Taylor is in town, presumably doing a preliminary assessment, from what my sources say. We’re not sure of her timeline, so I think the sooner I go after the stones, the better.”

  Ruby nodded, serious now. “That sounds pretty smart.” She pursed her lips. “What’s her security look like?”

  Mason frowned. “Not too bad, which seems odd. I hope we’re not wrong about her moving them. Hold on, Ruby.” He rolled his chair back to the minibar and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water. Returning to the desk and laptop, he moved back into the camera’s viewer. Watching himself in the corner inset that showed his reflection, he raised the bottle in a toast to Ruby before twisting off the cap and taking a deep swallow.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “No.” He grimaced. “Okay, maybe.” He held up two fingers, pinching a small space between them. “A little. How can you tell?”

  “You’re always thirsty when you’re anxious. Plus, you get those little lines between your brows.” She leaned in toward her own camera and Mason instinctively mirrored her action.

  “Are you saying I’m old and wrinkled?”

  She grinned. “Getting there.” Her mouth straightened. “Seriously, if something feels off, you shouldn’t move ahead, Mase.”

  “I know. It’s not that it feels off.” He took another drink of water, collecting his thoughts. His stomach rumbled, and he remembered he hadn’t eaten since that morning. “It’s Johannesburg. I’ve been away for a long time, yet everything still seems the same.”

  “You know that’s not accurate, though. The collapse of apartheid changed everything.”

  “Yes, I know. But it was the beginning, and we’re nowhere near the end.” Referring to himself as a countryman went unnoticed by Mason and unmentioned by Ruby. “The country is still wracked by crime and abuse of power. There’s addiction, abuse, and a health crisis.”

  Ruby’s chin dropped on a long, low sigh. “True. But at least you can talk about it. Before, you might have been imprisoned for speaking out on behalf of South Africans.”

  Mason was silent, thinking about his experiences growing up in Johannesburg. Before his father’s death, and the breakdown of his family, he’d enjoyed an unusual but idyllic childhood living as a white, American boy in private school.

  “Mason, I’m worried you’re too emotional to do this.”

  He focused on Ruby. Worry was darkening her hazel eyes to a shade closer to brown. Her freckles stood out, making Mason realize how pale she’d become while they talked. He shook his head and concentrated on chasing his dark thoughts away. This was no time to unpack his conflicted and complicated feelings on a country he’d long since left. He leaned in to the screen of his laptop.

  “I’m sorry, Rube. I’m only thinking out loud. Babbling. It doesn’t mean anything. So don’t panic.”

  “I can come down. Just give me time to catch a flight. I don’t even understand why Clara sent you to do this in the first place.” She was talking faster now, and Mason could tell her compassion and concern for him was foremost in her mind.

  “Stop.”

  She was looking down, and he could hear her fingers tapping the keys of her laptop. “I’m just seeing about flights,” she murmured, distracted now by a new purpose. It was exactly what he’d expect from Ruby.

  “Stop.” No response, so he raised his volume a notch. “Ruby. Stop.”

  She glanced up. “What?”

  “I can do this.” He rolled his eyes. “I am doing this. Everything is planned. I just didn’t realize how it would feel coming back, and when you called, I vented some of my feelings. But I’m okay. Really.”

  She searched his eyes, her gaze level. Finally, she nodded in one short, sharp movement. “Fair enough.” Sympathy mixed with understanding was stamped clearly on her face.

  “Thanks, Rube. For everything.” He smiled. “You’re like my best friend, you know.”

  A flush crept across her cheeks, and her body jerked in a quick flinch. “Ruby?” Her chin trembled, and Mason kicked himself for being insensitive. Mention of being his best friend would have undoubtedly brought Liam to her mind. Besides, Ruby had called him. She wanted to talk, and he’d blathered on about himself and his feelings about coming back to South Africa. He softened his tone, cursing the coldness of technology, even as it reached across miles to connect them. “Ruby?”

  She looked up.

  “Tell me why you called. Why you really called.”

  She bit her lip and gave an infinitesimal shake of her head.

  “I know you didn’t ring just to flip me shit over this job and about how you think you could do it better.”

  She smiled wanly. “Well, it’s true though. You’re an amateur compared to me.”

  “Ruby, why did you call?” He paused, waiting for her to open up. When she didn’t, he pressed harder. “It’s Liam, isn’t it?”

  She firmed her lips, silent.

  “Clara told me he’s trailing you. You know you have to leave Monte Carlo. And there’s no reason for you to be there anyway. You’re chasing a fantasy.”

  At that, her chin shot up, and she glared at him, her eyes burning gold and green. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mason.”

  “We’re talking about The Thornblood.” He waited a beat, not knowing which reference would provoke her more, the man or the gemstone. “And Liam.”

  Mason saw her hand reach out, and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before she slammed her laptop shut, thus ending their chat.

  “What are you really chasing, Ruby? The stone? Or are you hoping that searching for The Thornblood will bring you back to Liam?” Mason hated hurting her, but couldn’t watch her self-destruct either. More than anyone, he understood her grief when Liam turned his back on them. He’d felt it too.

  Her lips moved upward in a smile so sad that Mason’s heart stuttered in shame.

  “Goodbye, Mason. Remember tonight is just a ‘grab and go.’ Don’t complicate it. And good luck.”

  With that, their connection was lost, and his screen went dark.

  Angry with himself, he shoved himself back from the desk. He strode over to his suitcase, which still lay closed on a wooden luggage rack. He jerked at the zipper, flipping it open and searching for a few clothing items he’d brought specifically for his purpose.

  He removed his shirt, unbuttoning it with unnecessary roughness. Next, he toed off his shoes and then dropped his jeans to the floor. From the case, he removed an outfit entirely in black, from the fitted crewneck and military cargo pants to a pair of his favorite running shoes.

  With a couple of folds, he fitted a balaclava onto his head as a cap. It could—and likely would—be rolled down to cover his face when the situation demanded it.

  Once opened, the closet door revealed a full-length mirror. He eyed himself, assessing whether he crossed over the line from inconspicuous to suspicious. He’d been
a late bloomer, but his height had shot up in his late teen years, and he’d kept a lean, rangy build ever since. Weight training had led to a firm, toned body with little fat, but no bulk.

  He tugged at the cap, covering as much of his dark-brown hair as possible. Olive-green eyes stared back at him in a look that was both serious and solemn.

  “You are not a bully.”

  He said the words out loud, a positive affirmation that reminded him of who he was. And who he wasn’t. His plan of terrifying and mugging a woman didn’t naturally sit well with him. Far from it.

  “You don’t hurt people. You help them.”

  The mission the Orphans shared meant compromise. He would never physically harm a woman. But the benefits of working for many often came with a cost to the individual. Margaux Taylor would pay an emotional price before the day ended.

  Mason knew he’d wounded one woman tonight. One who was as near and dear to him as a sister. Giving a stranger a scare should seem like the lesser evil.

  “Remember the greater good.”

  It was an old mantra. One he’d used in the early days with the Orphans as they’d developed their mission and their individual roles within it.

  He shut the closet, turned out the lights, and locked his hotel door on the way out.

  For the first time, the familiar words were less of a comfort and more like a warning.

  * * *

  Inside the interior offices of their regional headquarters in Johannesburg, Margaux Taylor was in danger of wearing a path in the plush pile of the ivory carpeting.

  Irritably, she picked up her phone from the corner of the large, antique ebony desk that dominated the space near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Nothing.

  She’d texted Julian at least a dozen times. It was out of character for him not to answer, especially considering it was expected of him. Being Margaux’s personal assistant wasn’t the kind of job that held normal hours. When she needed him, he was there. Simple as that.