Se connecterMAXWELLThe man I remember standing inside a Syndicate warehouse, a man whose street name makes grown men lose control of their bladder, and now apparently a respectable corporate consultant. "Go on.""For Ariana Cox, the information on her is straightforward." I wait. "Former wife. Current mother of twins. Businesswoman. Owner of the Wolves. Bindy family connections. Corporate interests. Public appearances.""Anything that links her with Grant?""Nothing direct.""Nothing?""Not in the records we've found."I lean back, and that bothers me more than if there had been something, because people don't simply appear beside Ariana. Not people like Mason Grant. "Wait." I sit straighter. "Read the information on Ariana again.""Former wife. Current mother of twins. Businesswoman. Owner of the Wolves. Bindy family connections…""Stop." My stomach tightens. "Did you say Bindy?""Yes. Bindy." Jonah confirms."You mean the Blackbridge Bindys?" I say in surprise."Yeah. The same ones."I sit ba
MAXWELLHalfway down Ariana's driveway, the name comes back to me. Mason. My hand tightens around the steering wheel because I know that name, and worse, I remember the face that belongs to it.I saw him again at the Presidential Ball, standing beside Ariana, talking to her, close enough that they clearly knew each other. Durrell had been there too. At the time I had too much going on to give the scene the attention it deserved: Victor, the investigation, the family, my breakup with Selene, everything happening at once, all of it swallowing the moment before I could really look at it.But the first time I saw Mason was years ago, when I was at my lowest and summoned in the middle of the night to a Syndicate warehouse in Blackbridge. I still remember that night, the smell of diesel and salt water, the concrete floor, and him. Mason Grant. Only high-level Syndicate members know his face and his real identity. To the lower levels, he's practically a ghost, and they know him by one
ARIANAI remain standing a moment longer before I finally sit across from him.He rests his hands loosely between his knees. "I wanted to talk about the twins' birthday."My stomach tightens. "Their birthday.""I asked Mrs. Pat. It's less than three weeks away."I know. I've been counting the days without meaning to, their third birthday, and still no word from Durrell, some irrational part of me still hoping he'll walk through the door before then and this whole unsettled feeling will just disappear."I'll take care of it," I say. "I'll let you know when to show up."Maxwell's expression shifts, slight but real. "That's it? I get told when to appear?""What do you mean?""The agreement says I get to be actively involved in their lives.""I'm not keeping you from being involved.""It sounds like you're planning the entire thing and giving me a time slot.""Max." I sigh. "This isn't something to argue over.""I'm not arguing over it. It's very simple, you're the one making it feel like
ARIANABy evening, I've checked my phone six times, not because I'm worried, at least that's what I tell myself.Mrs. P's first message isn't easy news. MRS. P: ‘Thea cried again at bath time, asked for you twice. Ethan wouldn't eat until Maxwell sat on the floor next to him instead of at the table. Rough start, but settling.’My stomach twists reading it, and it takes everything in me not to get in the car.A second message comes an hour later. MRS. P: ‘Better now. Thea's decided Maxwell doesn't know any good bedtime voices and is teaching him. Ethan let him hold the dinosaur for five whole minutes, which I'm told is a record.’I laugh despite myself, some of the ache easing, and I type back, ME: ‘Thank you.’I put the phone down and try to go back to work. Twenty minutes later I pick it up again. Nothing. I put it down. This is ridiculous; they're fine, they're with Mrs. P, they're with a nanny who's already learning their habits, they're safe. I know that, but the house is too
ARIANAMrs. Patricia walks over to Maxwell's nanny. "I'll be coming with them tonight, and for the second visit, then subsequent visits will be all you alone."The woman nods. "Mr. Cox explained." She introduces herself. "I'm Mrs. Florence.""I'm Mrs. Patricia."Mrs. Florence smiles and nods. "Good, then you know I'm going to be talking too much." Mrs P says.Mrs. Florence laughs. "I'm all ears."I smile. There's no hostility between them, there doesn't need to be. Mrs. P cares more about the children than about the history between Maxwell and me, and that's one of the reasons I trust her.Maxwell looks at me. "You packed everything?"I glance at the bags. "We did."He smiles at Mrs P. "Thanks."***Mrs. Patricia carries the overnight bag, and Maxwell's nanny carries another. I stand at the doorway, and for a moment nobody moves.Thea looks past me toward the driveway, then back at me, like she's still waiting for the last piece to click into place. "Mommy car too?"I crouch down. "N
ARIANAThe first overnight arrives faster than I want it to. I know it's coming, I've known since Thursday, but knowing something is coming and actually watching it happen turn out to be two very different things.By nine in the morning, Mrs. P has already started packing. I stand in the doorway of the twins' room, watching her move around with the calm efficiency I've seen for two years. She's been with me since they were born, the person besides Durrell and me who knows which cup Ethan wants, which pajamas Thea refuses to wear, which lullaby works when neither of them wants to sleep, and exactly how long she can leave them arguing over a toy before stepping in. She doesn't need a checklist. She is the checklist."What are you putting in there?" I ask.She doesn't look up. "Clothes.""I can see that.""Then why did you ask?"I smile despite myself. "Just checking."She finally looks at me. "You're checking everything.""I'm not." My gaze drop to the floor."You checked the diaper
“Involved how?”Victor turned back to me.“Theodore requested a private review of a joint logistics agreement three days before he was shot.”My pulse stumbled.“A joint agreement between whom?”“Chase Construction and one of our automotive subsidiaries.”I stared at him.“You’re saying his shootin
*Maxwell*When I stepped off the elevator onto the private floor, I saw them immediately.Two men in dark suits flanked the door to a corner room. Durrell's men. I'd seen enough of them lately to recognize them.Durrell himself stood outside the room, speaking into his phone, watching me approach l
*MAXWELL*The news came from my assistant."Sir, Theodore Chase was shot again. He didn't make it."I stopped mid-step in my office."What?""The Chase family residence, less than an hour ago. It's all over the news."I grabbed my jacket and was out the door before he could say more.The drive to t
*DURRELL*When we arrived at the hospital, she was taken straight to the emergency unit before I had her moved to a VIP ward and requested for the family doctor.She is not crying, and that scares me more than anything.There is blood on her hands. It has dried in thin lines along her fingers, and







