communications as tragic bad luck when we both mentioned trying to reach the other. Once I realized what Cyrus has been up to with the Eaton surveillance, I began to wonder if there’s more to it than that.
“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugs like he’s searching for the memory, but I can see it there in his eyes. “I remember dropping off some mail.”
It’s a smooth lie, and a plausible one. He sips his whiskey, looking at me over the rim of the glass like he doesn’t have a thing in the world to feel guilty about. If I didn’t want to reach down his throat and rip his heart out, I’d probably be impressed.
“That’s what I said.” I flip my palms from down-facing to up, the universal body language for who knows.
“Still a vodka man, huh?” Cyrus deflects as soon as he can.
“Yeah.” I lift my own glass. I’d learned a long time ago that people will see what they want. My club soda looks an awful lot like a vodka soda to Cyrus, because he wants to believe I’m still the drunk asshole he manipulated so easily all those years ago. “Anyway, we’ve just been trying to sort through it all. Put the pieces together. We were stupid kids. Don’t want to make the same mistakes, you know?”
Cyrus’s eyes narrow at the corners, but he pins a smile to his face. His eyes flit to the door, but I pretend not to notice, taking another large drink. “Yeah, you two were really hot and cold. I couldn’t keep up with it. I don’t blame you for taking off. Adair is drama. No offense.”
Well, if I don’t get to kill him, Adair probably will when she hears this bit.
“She didn’t get my note either. Probably, because she was in London.” Try to wriggle off that hook, you fucking worm.
“I know,” he sounds completely wretched, but only in the showy way rich pricks use to get away with being assholes. “Poppy made me promise not to tell you. She said Adair wanted to move on.”
I let the conversation lapse a moment when I hear voices in my earpiece.
“I’m in the safe,” says Luca. “It’s pretty standard. Liquid cooled so if someone tries to drill the safe it will ruin everything. The drives are all set in with screws and not prongs, though.”
“What happened to the multitool I gave you last Christmas?” Jack says peevishly.
“I don’t have it,” Luca says evenly.
“Check the desk,” Jack says, “Otherwise, I’ll brush you one in the lobby.”
I realize Cyrus is looking at me expectantly, and do my best to tune out Jack and Luca. “Women, huh? I guess I’m going to have to really work on getting Poppy to like me.”
“Might be a lost cause,” Cyrus says. “Poppy doesn’t hate many people, but…”
“I wonder why she hates me,” I say. “I bet you know.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, shifting his weight to the edge of his chair like he’s considering storming out.
“You know a lot of things you shouldn't, don’t you? I bet you know about the sex tape and the blackmail.” I lean forward, directly across from him, until I can smell the liquor on his breath. He can try to bolt for the door, but he won’t be able to before I grab him.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He puts his glass on the coffee table and stands up. “It was good to catch up. I hope you and Adair figure all this out, but—”
“No, you don’t. You wouldn’t want us to figure this out,” I cut him off.
Cyrus glances at the desk, his eyes landing on the screwdriver Adair left there after jimmying open the locked drawer.
“Don’t get any stupid fucking ideas,” I say. He doesn’t know it, but I could let him reach for it without forming a single bead of sweat. There’s a Glock in the box nearest me. The kiddie pool has closed. Cyrus might think he’s ready for the deep end, but I’m the deepest, darkest ocean. He has no idea.
“You haven’t changed, Sterling,” he says, suddenly relaxing. “You can take the kid out of the ghetto, but you can’t—well, I shouldn’t have to say the rest.”
He pauses for a moment, regarding me with an amused smile, before unbuttoning his jacket and sitting back down. “Of course I set you up. Actually, I ought to thank you for that. I don’t know why I thought Adair would screw over Poppy. Stupid kid myself, I