Heist Royale (Thieves’ Gambit #2)

Chapter Eleven

Eleven

It’d cost over two thousand dollars for me, Mylo, and Kyung-soon to get a studio Airbnb during Mardi Gras season.

Count had a penthouse suite booked in under two minutes. Perks of the job, while she had it.

After the most awkward car ride ever, Count told me, Mylo, and Noelia that she’d have someone get our things and bring them here—because of course she knew where all of our things were—then retreated to the upper floor of the penthouse.

So now I was sitting at the dining table with my head in my hands, moping…for lack of a better word.

Oh, and still in full Mardi Gras costume. Let the good times roll, amirite?

In the living room, Mylo was ordering so much room service I suspected he was reading the menu back to the staff.

On my own, I found myself tracing the edge of my phone.

Not that it was important at all…but I found myself opening the text thread with Devroe. He’d looked so…conflicted. Would he even text me back if I texted him right now?

Hey… I sent. Just as an experiment.

The bubbles started dancing immediately. But then they disappeared. The hell?

I should’ve left it at that, but…

Are you guys okay?

This time, he did commit to a response.

Devroe

Fine.

No thanks to any of you.

I glared at the screen. Where the hell did this come from?

Me

My bad, I see we’ve switched back to temper tantrum mode. Sorry for asking.

I waited a whole minute, until I was sure I wouldn’t hear back from him at all.

Devroe

Talk to your crazy mom.

I have to protect my own family.

I dropped my phone. I guessed if there was a day to be butthurt about my mom’s past transgressions, it was today. Feeling particularly pathetic, I opened the notes in my phone.

Regrets and other stuff to figure out if I live:

Wth is going on with Devroe and me?

Noelia settled into the high-backed seat next to mine, bringing a barely sipped bottle of spring water with her. I flipped my phone facedown.

“Sorry about Kyung-soon.” She worried her lip. “I know you thought you were friends, so…”

I sat up and dragged my fingers down my face. “Whatever. I should probably be over the whole ‘oh my god, that person wasn’t really my friend’ thing now. It’s not like it’s the first time.”

She winced, and I realized my mistake.

“Not that I was talking about you! I mean, I kinda was, but you didn’t know back then, so, not your fault.”

“Right.”

We sat in cricket-chirping silence for a few seconds, punctuated only by Mylo’s “Does that come with onion rings?” in the other room.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” I finally said. “Not that I don’t appreciate the support, but I know you’ve probably got other assignments with your family—”

Noelia put a hand up. “First, believe it or not, but you do have some friends who aren’t in the market to stab you in the back and just want to help for the sake of helping. I’ll use baby terms since you’re new to the friendship thing, but that’s what friends do, Quest.”

I flushed and hid a smile.

“Second”—Noelia held up two fingers—“this might actually be good for my family situation.”

She took a sip of water and some time to gather her thoughts. Like a good friend, I waited. “Since the end of the Gambit, things haven’t exactly been fantastic for me. Losing was bad enough, but apparently not even trying to win the final phase was…particularly disgraceful.”

“The final phase was kidnapping! Not to mention you saved your own brother from being snatched.”

Technically I did, but semantics.

She pressed her hands to her eyes. “Papa says if I’d gone through with the phase and won, then I could’ve wished for Nicki back and everything would have been fine.” Her forehead scrunched, like she was suddenly fighting a headache. “Nicki ended up being unceremoniously dismissed from Hauser. All of his records were ‘mysteriously lost.’ His devices got ‘accidentally’ wiped. They even scrubbed all his social media accounts. Which of course Nicki thinks is my fault.” She rubbed her eyes, so hard I was a bit worried she’d damage them. “I thought he at least would be over it by now, but six months later, and he’s still calling me Witch Bitch.”

“You know your family is being a bunch of Monday-morning-quarterback dicks, right?” Never in my life could I understand the logic of “it’s your fault for not just letting your brother get kidnapped.”

Noelia shook her head lightly. Even if I was right—and I was—she wasn’t in a place to hear it.

We were quiet for a few seconds. Was this the type of moment where you would pat someone on the shoulder? Maybe, but I waited too long and missed my opportunity.

Instead, I said, “You did the right thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that all of that…crap that happened knocked me down from heir apparent status to lackey sent on bodyguard work.”

Hence how she ended up in New Orleans, I guessed.

She turned away, as if the wet bar on the other side of the room demanded her attention. “Everyone in the family knows I’m on the outs with Papa. I bet even Nana Cati knows.”

“Is she usually out of the loop?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh.”

“Second Cousin Trevor is probably higher on Papa’s list than I am right now. Trevor couldn’t steal a Kleenex from a rubbish bin. Recovering my reputation by winning this new game isn’t the worst idea. Who cares if I fail? Once you hit rock bottom, there’s nothing else to lose.”

I huffed an awkward laugh. “You’re Noelia Boschert—you and rock bottom are like the repelling ends of magnets. You couldn’t hit it if you wanted to. And your papa is probably just pushing you around for a little bit until he takes you back.”

“You don’t know that.” Noelia’s voice cracked. Her shoulders trembled. Was that a sniffle?

I went stiff-still in my seat.

Cautiously, I snuck around her chair to peek at her. Noelia’s eyes were red, swelling with tears. Her cheeks were a blotchy color. She bit back sobs.

“Are you crying?” I caught myself too late. That was totally not the thing you’re supposed to say to someone who actually was crying, and definitely not in the stupid-ass tone I just used. What were you supposed to do when your friend was crying?

“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Noelia swatted tears from her cheeks, but more fell.

Oh man, how did I deal with this? “Uh, there, there.” I tried the shoulder pat, which did absolutely nothing. I nearly tripped over a chair bringing her a pile of napkins from the wet bar. She took one and blew her nose, but didn’t stop sobbing.

“It’s, um…” I could try and give her some advice about her family again, but that hadn’t worked before.

“It’s okay, you’re totally allowed to cry.” I was still patting her shoulder with as much natural skill as an animatronic.

Noelia blotted away the freshest tears, blinking her red eyes. “You’re awful at this.”

“Uh…yeah. But I’m here?”

That earned me an almost smile between the sobs.

Out in the living room, the sound of one of the double doors swooshing over the plush carpet announced someone was here. The rattle of a cart followed.

“Wow, you guys are fast,” I heard Mylo say. “But I guess it is the penthouse. Set up wherever.”

I heard Mylo shuffling over the carpet before sliding into the dining room, still in his green dress pants, button-down, and vest. “Hey, I ordered all the food—”

He stumbled to a stop, scanning the disaster I’d somehow turned Noelia into. I was going to shoo him away, but instead he sighed, locking eyes with Noelia, who had enough pride to attempt a poker face.

“Family stuff?” he asked.

How did he—

“How’d you know?” Noelia asked, sniffling.

“People only cry that hard about family stuff or breakups, and when breakups are the culprit, it usually involves more anger or looking at old texts or pictures of ‘better days.’?” He hopped in the chair on Noelia’s other side.

Was everyone this tuned in, or was it just me who didn’t know what the hell I was doing when it came to comforting friends?

“Well, aren’t you an expert…” Noelia rolled her eyes.

“Ignoring you or being too pushy?” Mylo asked.

“I don’t know. Both. Maybe more the first one,” Noelia said.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Mylo sighed. “Sometimes you feel like you’re yelling into a void trying to get your family to listen to you and they just…don’t?”

I expected Noelia to snort or say something dismissive, but she blotted the newest tears away and gave a little nod instead. “You wish they would notice everything you’re doing, but instead—”

“You’re totally invisible. Preaching to the choir, my friend,” Mylo said.

And just like that, they fell into their own conversation, venting about the woes of being a minimal priority to one’s parents. Or parent, in Noelia’s case—I’d never heard her or anyone in the industry mention where Mrs. Boschert was.

I slowly eased myself out of the room. Maybe that was why I hadn’t been able to help. If anything, my problem was the opposite. Whatever the case, it felt like a conversation I wasn’t meant to be a part of.

Addition to my new list:

Regret not getting to understand my friends better.

I rubbed my neck as I stepped into the open living room. The waiter was taking her sweet time setting up all the food. It looked like she’d barely started. What had she been doing for the past five minutes?

I scanned the plush carpet. Faint impressions, shod, not barefoot like Mylo’s, led from the dining room doors back toward the cart behind the sectional sofa.

Was she snooping on us?

I walked toward her. The closer she got, the more obvious it was that she was wearing a fake crochet wig, and the more familiar the curve of her lips under her festive Mardi Gras half mask.

That undeniable cocoa butter smell hit me a foot away.

I ripped her wig off, and waves of weave fell out. She at least had the dignity to take the mask off on her own.

“You have no chill and no restraint.”

As I spoke, Mom sat on the back of the sectional, crossing her ankles. She loosened the top button around her neck. Whoever she stole this uniform from wasn’t precisely her size.

She did the finger quotes thing. “No mother ‘has chill’ when they don’t know where their child is.”

“But they ‘have chill’ when they chuck them into the ocean and traumatize them for life.”

“You’ve gotta get over that, baby girl.” Mom rubbed her temples like I was the one stressing her out.

“No, you need to get out!” I pointed toward the door, coming off way more petulant than I intended, but it had been a long-as-hell night and I was starting to emotionally malfunction.

Mom pouted. “I’m only here to help.”

“With what?”

She hadn’t been at the capitol building—how would she know what I needed help with?

“How long have you been following me?”

She shrugged. “Oh, you know.”

“Since I got here?”

“Sure.”

So since Brazil.

“Jesus Christ,” I groaned.

Mylo peeked out of the dining room. Noelia stepped out beside him.

“You’re still here?” Mylo frowned at Mom. “Did Ross not tip you? You know they let you Venmo tips now.”

Noelia shushed him. “Are you…Rhiannon Quest?”

Mom gave her a twinkle-finger wave.

Mylo lit up. “Hey, you’re Ross’s mom! What’s up?” He bopped over like he was going to ask for her autograph. I cleared my throat and cut him a glare. Mylo stopped. “Oh yeah, I mean, shame on you for everything you did to Ross.” He gave me a reassuring half nod.

“And you’re here because…?” Noelia cocked a brow.

“She’s leaving,” I said.

“No, I’m not,” Mom said.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, she’s not.” Count emerged from the hallway leading into the bedrooms, trademark tablet in hand, her hair a touch disheveled. “Rhiannon contacted me asking to supplement my team. I’ve accepted her.”

“But she’s—”

“Lament your personal issues later. I want her on my team. End of story.”

I wanted to protest, but it’d make me look petulant again.

“How about a little gratitude for the girl who just saved your job?” Noelia said, tone sharp as knives. Her claws were back out, and I was glad she was on my side.

“Gratitude is for people who are helping you out of the goodness of their own hearts.” Count looked to me. “Don’t act as if you’re here for anything except our intersecting best interests.”

“I’m actually just here for Ross, and the food.” Mylo lifted one of the silver trays on the cart. His face distorted when he found it completely empty.

“The organization has decided on the rules of this…Gauntlet.” Count touched her tablet. My phone buzzed. So did Mylo’s and Noelia’s and Mom’s. “It’s to be a showcase of jobs, unfortunately chosen without my input, that will be considered high-ticket wins for the organization as a whole.”

“So we’re not just knocking items off your personal hit list anymore?” I asked.

Count bit the corner of her lip, not responding.

I looked at my phone. A picture cued up from the link Count had sent. Ice—sheets of blue-white ice and glaciers. A tundra stretching farther than the eye could see. The only sign of life was a speck of a building nestled alongside a large body of water. I zoomed in on it, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining the sliver of concrete in the snow. But it was there, a flat building with snowmobiles to the side and a matching outbuilding a short distance away. A thin antenna, fuzzy in the low-definition picture, punched into the sky.

“Three phases, best of two takes the win,” Count said. “This is number one.”

“That’s a lot of snow on flatland.” Noelia tilted her phone to the side for a new angle. “What is this…Russia?”

“There’s no body of water that big in Russia, baby Boschert,” Mom said.

So the only place this could be was…

“Antarctica!” Mylo said with so much enthusiasm I thought a ding ding ding would follow his answer.

“The edge of Antarctica, technically,” Count said. “This is a lab specializing in converting nuclear reactions into a completely perpetual and renewable energy source.”

“Cool.” Mylo nodded, rubbing his chin. “How do they do that?”

“If the science is over my head, I promise it will be over yours,” Count said. Mom pressed her fingertips to her mouth, hiding the laugh I knew she wanted to let out.

“All you need to know,” Count continued, “is that their work involves research and technology that could revolutionize energy conservation in the coming decades, and therefore change the landscape of profit and power in the very lucrative energy sector.”

I knew where this was going already. “And this is the part where you tell us that, sadly, the organization doesn’t have any investments in this lab that managed to ace this breakthrough, right?”

“That would be the case, yes,” Count said. “Select members of our organization hold significant portions of their fortunes in the energy sector. We’ve attempted to buy out this lab with no success. And then they made this breakthrough. Not good for us. Unless they were to lose ownership of the new prototype technology they’ve just perfected.”

Stealing from scientists in Antarctica. Could honestly say I’d never done that before.

“When does the phase start?” I asked.

“Don’t you know the drill by now? Be downstairs in ten.” Count strode out of the suite.

Mylo grumbled, heading for the door too. “Guess I’ll have to steal some crepes from that bakery by the lobby.” As he left, Noelia headed back toward a guest room, mumbling disparagingly about American crepes, leaving me and Mom alone. I was going to follow Mylo, but comforting cocoa butter arms wrapped around me from behind. “I’m sorry about your friend turning against you,” Mom said. “And the Kenzie boy too.”

I should’ve wiggled out of her grasp, but another part of me stayed still. “You don’t care about my friends.”

Mom sighed. “No, but I care about my baby girl, so I’m sorry they let you down.”

“Not the first time someone has.”

Mom only squeezed me tighter, and I was feeling so exhausted that I just let her. Until Devroe’s text popped into my mind. “Devroe said to talk to you. He said something about protecting his family, but it didn’t seem like he was talking about the organization. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

Mom tensed. She petted my hair. “Why would I know?”

I turned and narrowed my eyes, but Mom’s poker face was impenetrable. “I haven’t seen Diane in twenty years,” she swore. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. That’s the truth.”

Maybe it was the nostalgia of being in my mom’s arms again, but she seemed genuine.

I made a mental note to add to the list again.

Figure out how I feel about Mom.