Heist Royale (Thieves’ Gambit #2)

Chapter Two

Two

Details on the next job incoming. One week out.

A string of attachments followed Count’s text. Something about Montreal and some Monets. I skimmed the files before tucking my phone away to deal with them later. Devroe was not of the same mind.

He held the door for me as we entered the hotel, a cutesy boutique in a swanky corner of Rio. The type of place where string lights crisscross the streets and the upcycled furniture in the lobby is totally posh.

“Let’s discuss the next job,” Devroe offered.

“Tomorrow.”

“I’m busy tomorrow.”

I scoffed. “Doing what?”

“Thinking of new ways to impress you.”

How was it that maintaining my iciness was getting harder as time went on, not the other way around?

Ignoring him, I made for the elevator, but a petite woman in red pumps and a matching pencil skirt threw herself between me and the doors, explaining something in Portuguese.

“The main elevator is out of service,” Devroe translated.

I sighed, turning toward the stairs. The woman blocked me yet again, speaking just as insistently.

“They just started polishing the stairs. She says we can take the penthouse elevator and circle back down the emergency stairs.” He winked at the woman as she offered a key card. She flushed. I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever.” I let Devroe lead the charge into the private elevator, not that I had any other choice. The petite woman waved at us, a mischievous look on her face.

“Do you know her?” I asked.

“Not at all.”

With a chime, the doors opened. I stopped a single step out.

In a dim foyer, a candlelit table was waiting. As intimate as they come, with a white tablecloth and an unassuming single-layer cake in the center.

That woman. She knew what Devroe was planning. He probably told her he was my boyfriend or something.

“You’re such a liar,” I said.

“Like you didn’t know that.”

I turned on my heel to dip back into the elevator, but he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t spend your birthday alone. We’re going to have to talk about the next job anyway—you might as well eat cake while we do it.”

The twist of my lips probably translated my hell no before a sound left my mouth, but he was quick to interject. “It’s pineapple upside-down cake.”

I froze. Though I hadn’t given the cake a close enough look before, the scent of condensed milk and pineapple was unmistakable now. Mom and Auntie had made me that cake every year since before I could remember. My mouth watered at the thought, and my heart shuddered with a pang of longing. I didn’t think I’d be having it this year.

It wasn’t for him—god knew how he found out what flavor to get—but just for the cake, I reluctantly drifted toward the little table. Devroe’s eyes were alight with excitement as he sat across from me.

“This isn’t a date.” I blew out the two candles between us. He swatted my hand away from the cake cutter, insisting on doing it himself, undoubtedly so I had to watch him tantalizingly roll up his sleeves.

“Not working,” I said.

“Not even a little flutter in your stomach?”

“I haven’t dug in-depth into the files Count sent yet, but if it’s a private gallery, I’m thinking something along the lines of a traditional break-in—”

“We have a week. No need to worry about the next job now.”

“You just said—” Groaning, I rubbed my temples as he placed a perfectly cut slice in front of me. “I hope this is poisoned so I can be done with you.”

He licked a smudge of condensed milk off his finger, and that was enough to send a flutter through me. “If it is, we’re going down together.”

I bit my lip and fingered my silverware while he cut himself a similar slice. “Do you think toying with my emotions is fun?” I asked quietly. “Isn’t having your wish enough?”

Devroe paused, locking eyes with me. Then, uncharacteristically, he averted them. “I would’ve used it already if I was going to…you know.”

“There’s no point in all this. You don’t have anything else to gain from me,” I said.

“Except your forgiveness.” He moved like he would reach for my hand, then thought better of it and resorted to straightening out one of his folded sleeves instead. “I feel…rather bad about everything.”

A bead of anger, let’s call it that, swelled in my chest. “So it’s about you. Wanting to make me smile a little so you can feel less crappy about yourself.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean…I feel awful because I care about you. Can’t you let me try to make things right?”

“Give me your wish.”

He blinked.

“You want to make things right. I’ll forgive you, here and now, if you give me your wish.” I cocked a brow.

As expected, he didn’t move.

“…I can’t.”

“Well, you must not feel that bad.” I stood, leaving my precious pineapple upside-down cake untouched. “Email me your thoughts on the next job.”

He didn’t try to stop me from leaving this time, and I didn’t look back.

···

I leaned against my suite door, finally alone, and blew out a slow breath. Devroe felt bad. What was that worth?

Why was I even thinking about it now? This would’ve been easier if he’d just gotten arrested earlier—

Something moved near the window. City lights snuck in through sheer curtains, enough to backlight an armchair and whoever was standing behind it.

I moved slowly, trying not to give away that I’d seen them, and carefully unraveled my bracelet. Whoever this was, if they were hiding in my room, they should’ve known what they had coming.

I gave myself one more breath, then shot forward. The shape was a blur, but I could make out where a neck should be. Just as I snapped my bracelet forward, the person’s arm flew up, catching my attack. It was like they’d known exactly where I was aiming for.

Probably because they did.

A lamp clicked on, lighting up the room. For the first time in six months, I was face-to-face with my mother.

“Happy birthday, baby girl!”

I yanked my bracelet chain, trying to tug her off-balance. She knew me too well. With just the right twist, the chains slinked off her wrist. Mom held her arms open like I would hug her. She’d switched up her weave. Six months ago she’d been in a down-your-back, wavy phase. Tonight, she was wearing quarter-width curls. Still voluminous and eye-catching. Still more glamorous than I could ever be in high-waisted black jeans and a chest-hugging black top. Still with her full lips and clever eyes and delicate nose. Still Mom.

Her same cocoa butter scent wrapped around me. The trained comfort response to that smell was almost hard to fight.

“I’m not talking to you.”

I started wrapping my bracelet around my wrist. How did she get here? How did she know where I was at all?

My gaze shot to the door. Where would I even go if I stormed out…?

“If you leave, you’re going to run into the Kenzie boy again. He’s pacing through the lobby right now.” Mom held her phone landscape, flashing me CCTV footage. Devroe was indeed lingering downstairs, looking surprisingly downtrodden. The same petite woman from before was trying to comfort him. Not that I cared.

“Must have been a disaster of a date, baby girl.”

My face suddenly felt like a firepit. “It wasn’t a— How long were you watching me?”

Mom ignored the question, instead twirling her finger toward the bed.

On the duvet sat a black-and-gray-striped box topped with a silver bow. I flipped open the top, if only so I could tell her how much I hated the gift. She’d been horrible at birthday presents since I graduated from being happy with baby dolls and toy cars. But inside, I was shocked to find a pair of purple high-tops with gold shooting stars sewn into the sides. Tiny gold diamonds circled the rims of the soles, and even in the dark I could tell they were real. These kicks were…absolutely stunning.

I shoved the box away. “Ugly.”

Mom pursed her lips. Really , they seemed to say.

“How much of a dent did these put in your new half-a-billion-dollar fortune?”

Mom flinched, clearly dreading where this conversation was going. Lucky for her, we didn’t have to talk at all. “Get out,” I said.

“I just want to explain.” Mom pouted as if I was the one being cruel. “I think I deserve that.”

“Deserve? Did I deserve to be abandoned in the middle of the ocean? Or to be almost gunned down in France? Or to almost fall twenty stories in Egypt?”

“I never put you in any situations I didn’t know you could get out of,” Mom said. “Look at you—you’re fine! I don’t understand why we can’t just talk now that it’s over.”

“It’s not over ,” I said. “Devroe still has his wish. He could blip us out of existence in a second, and if he did, it’d be your fault.”

That shut her up. She sunk into the armchair, fiddling with her gel nails.

“Why did you do it?” I asked. “Did you really betray his mom and let his dad just die?”

Mom examined me for a long moment, like she was taking in every change since the last time she saw me. “I didn’t know that he was Diane’s boy. I didn’t know all of that was going to happen at the end of the Gambit.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Mom paused. “It’s very quiet back home without you and Jaya. I’ve always hated quiet.”

I stumbled in my anger for a second. I understood how grating quiet could be, all those years alone back home. The silence of loneliness has a certain heaviness. Had Mom ever really felt it before? Before me, she had Auntie, but after Mom let her get kidnapped, she’d taken off. “I still want you to go.” I moved toward the door, but the handle went slack under my palm. The screws holding the knob in place were loose. Mom must have removed the spring inside. She’d never given me the option to leave in the first place. Always making sure she’d get what she wanted no matter what.

“Argh!” I stormed toward the window instead.

“Oh, Rossie, come on.” Mom grabbed my shoulder as I heaved the third-story window up. “I’m sorry, really.”

Mom had never said sorry before. Six months ago it would’ve taken my breath away. For all I knew, I might be the only person on Earth who’d ever gotten a sorry from Rhiannon Quest. But there was something unsettling about that. What was it worth?

I shoved her under the throat. Hard. Mom stumbled into a coffee table. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

Not caring that there was a sidewalk speckled with witnesses below, I slipped onto a drainpipe and slid to the ground. Jamming my hands in my jacket pockets, I started walking into the night.