probably out of habit.
Casimir would have to take Roxanne back to Amsterdam for a night to retrieve their toddler daughter before they returned to Los Angeles and their law office. Rox had been understating when she said that they were needed back in California. The law office was drowning in new cases and sinking fast. They needed him and Rox back tout suite.
Besides, Casimir missed his daughter. People joked that the toddler had him wrapped around her tiny, chubby fingers, but they didn’t know the half of it. He was sure he would have painted toenails before she went to kindergarten.
Roxanne and Gen had gone out for a girls’ supper. They’d join the guys later, when it was time to leave Paris.
Casimir’s eyes felt gritty. He could probably get some sleep on the short flight to Amsterdam.
But, in the meantime, he was having a drink with his oldest friends.
They counted on each other.
The air was warm in the darkened hotel bar, and they’d ordered ice in their drinks and rolled up their shirt sleeves to their elbows to cool off.
Their matching tattoos on their right forearms bore their story, of course. The three shields—one for each of them—surrounded a Celtic knot that represented their lifelong friendship. Arthur had designed that one and each of their backpieces.
“And you’ll stay here in Paris? You won’t go wandering off back to Monaco, right, Emperor Maximus?” Arthur asked Maxence, using one of their school nicknames from long ago. Max had gotten his growth spurt before the rest of them, sprouting up to six-feet-four and towering over the rest of their class for half a year.
Max swirled the whiskey in his glass, the ice clinking on the crystal. “Yeah, I will. I only have a week before I have to pack up and go back. It’ll be pleasant to live here for a few days before it’s back to roughing it.”
“Back to Africa?” Casimir asked, smiling at his friend.
“Probably, but there have been some rumblings about a short-term assignment elsewhere. The decision will be made soon.” A quick flinch of his dark eyebrows probably meant something, but they were too mellow to give him the third degree. “But I’ll stay here in Paris for the week.”
“You could stay with us in California,” Casimir ventured. “You have a week. You could stay for five days before you had to turn around.”
Maxence shrugged. “It’s pretty far for just a week.”
“Or London,” Arthur told Max. “Come on up and drink some warm beer with me for a week. Ruckus misses you.”
Maxence smiled a little but demurred again.
“Fine, you stay here, then. And eat,” Arthur told him, gesturing at him with his highball glass. “You’ve lost weight.”
It was true, Casimir mused. Maxence’s face looked gaunt again. The last time he’d shown up in California looking skinny like that, Roxanne had “cooked Southern for him.” Casimir had tucked in the cornbread, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cake, pies, and all the “fixins’” and wondered just what he’d have to do to get her to “cook Southern” for him on a regular basis. It had been divine.
Maxence nodded. “I’ll eat. I’m in Paris. Of course, I’ll eat.”
Casimir said, “You can call us when something happens, you know. You don’t have to disappear and have Pierre send out a BOLO for you.”
Max nodded. “I know.”
“You can call us when you just want to talk.”
He nodded again. “I know.”
“But you didn’t this time.”
Maxence was trying not to frown again. “There’s a lot going on, especially with Uncle Rainier in the hospital. I want to be far away from there when he passes. I want to be incommunicado, beyond cell phones or radio signals or carrier pigeons. That’s when things will get ugly.”
Casimir and Arthur nodded. Max was right. He would be safer if he bolted until things were settled.
Billions of dollars were at stake. Even normal people would kill for billions of dollars. Some of Max’s saner relatives would probably lose their minds.
There was no telling what a psychopath like Pierre would do.
And Pierre wasn’t the only stone-cold killer in Maxence’s family, Caz knew. One of his uncles—well, that was another story.
They sipped their drinks and reminisced for a few hours until the bellhops informed them that the cars had arrived, and then Casimir and Arthur had to leave Maxence there.
Roxanne and Gen met them in the lobby. Both of them were giggly.
Casimir asked Rox, “Did you have a good time?”
“Oh, yeah,” Roxanne said. “We went to the Buddha Bar and had a great