black SUV stopped at the curb. “Our ride, sis.” We both climbed into the back seat. The driver barely acknowledged me as Mason told him the name of our hotel.
“Shit, Lorna,” Mason said as we drove the streets of New York. “I screwed up by not giving you more details. I’ve been too fucking busy. There’s some serious shit happening here and back in Chicago, too.”
My eyes went from him to the driver and back. Granted, the interior of the SUV was only lit by some weird blue ambient lighting and the occasional illumination of outside streetlights, but I was pretty sure he could see my concern.
“He’s a Sparrow. No one gets near any of us who isn’t.”
“I don’t even know what that means.” I turned toward the window as the SUV entered a highway.
Mason reached for my hand. “It means, I’m sorry if you’ve been worried about what you’d wear. I asked you here to save me from having a date. Now, get a good night’s sleep, and in the morning, you’ll find out what the Sparrow connection means.”
“What does it mean?”
My brother smiled. “It means, after tomorrow, I might have a better chance of convincing you to move to my new place.”
“I have to be back to work Sunday morning to cover for Jane.”
“Yeah, I know.” Mace handed me a paper ticket. “I booked you a three a.m. Sunday red-eye to O’Hare. There’ll be a car to take you from the masquerade ball straight to the airport. You’ll need to leave by midnight.”
I turned to him with my tired eyes widening. “Wait, what? You didn’t mention masquerade.”
“Hmm. I didn’t?”
“Shit, Mace.”
“So, tomorrow morning,” he continued, “I’m sorry if you wanted to sightsee, maybe another trip. Your day is full. I have work I need to do with the Sparrows, so I probably won’t be around until closer to our departure for the party.”
I was trying to make sense of what he was saying. Maybe my brother was a linguistics expert, and instead of English, he was speaking another language.
He rattled off my schedule. “Your wake-up call will be at eight-thirty, breakfast will be delivered at nine. Then there is a fitting for your dress. Next, a masseuse and lunch. Oh” —his green eyes smiled my way— “I ordered your breakfast—standard fare—but just tell the server at breakfast what you want for lunch and snack. Lunch will be at twelve-thirty and the snack about an hour before we leave. Never attend one of these parties on an empty stomach. The champagne flows like water.”
“I-I can’t pay for any of this.”
“No one asked you to. You’re helping the Sparrows. The Sparrows help you.”
“Are you changing your last name?”
Mason inhaled deeply as the cords in his neck came to life. He pointed ahead. “Manhattan, sis.”
My eyes opened in amazement as I took in the buildings and the lights. It was absolutely stunning, like a picture or a photograph, not real life. “Wow.”
Mason nodded. “Moving on up.”
The SUV continued across a bridge.
Mason’s expression changed as his jaw tightened. “No, I’m not changing my name. I’m a fucking Pierce, and so are you. That isn’t changing. Old Man Sparrow is a sack of shit, but maybe my father was too. Maybe yours and Missy’s were also. Fuck, we don’t know. We know Mom was—”
“Or is,” I interjected.
“I know without a doubt that the road I’m on with Sterling Sparrow is the right one,” Mason said. “Yeah, he can also be an asshole and was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. As annoying as those traits are, they open doors and make connections. Because of him, I’ve been places and in contact with people I’d never have met otherwise. I can’t tell you all that’s happening, but I can say that I’m one hundred percent behind his plans. So are the others.”
“What others?”
“I’ve told you about them.”
“In the mysterious inner circle third-person,” I said.
“You’ll meet them tomorrow. There’s obviously Sterling, call him Mr. Sparrow, and Reid and Patrick.”
“Do you call him mister?” I elongated the word.
“In public, for appearances. In private, it’s less formal.”
I tried to keep it all straight. “So, is this like the military...but different? He’s what? Your captain?”
Mason laughed. “He’d probably say general, but for the record, I was a hell of a lot better soldier than he was; not that he’ll ever admit that.”
“Do all four of you have fake dates?”
Mason shrugged. “Sparrow and Patrick, yes. The women accompanying them are Sparrow employees. There’s no emotional connection. Like I