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“No, it’s not,” Eric agrees grimly.
This jerks my gaze to Eric. “What does that mean? What do you two know that I don’t know?”
“The unions are still connected to the mob,” he explains. “You piss them off, you die. You steal from them, you suffer before you die. If the Kingstons got on their radar, they may want to shift that blame, and we’re the targets. And it fits. Isaac was scared when he came to Harper’s the other night. Really fucking scared. The kind of scared you are when you’ve fucked over the mob. And you don’t fuck over the mob, or anyone powerful, without a plan to cover your ass.”
“We were that plan,” I say, following where he’s leading.
Realization hits me and I can feel the color drain from my face. “The money in the account in my name. It could be mob money. It could look like I stole from the mob.”
“We handled that,” Blake assures me. “There’s no connection to you.”
“That we know of,” I say. “We don’t know much of anything, it seems to me, right now.”
“They’ll have to come through me to get to you,” Eric says, “and that won’t go well for them.”
“That’s plan A,” I say. “What’s plan B? Because as you said, no plan survives first contact.”
“Plan B is to turn the mob’s attention to everyone but us.”
“How?” I ask.
“I could always sell them my stock.”
It’s not a bad idea, I think. “And plan C?”
“People die in plan C, sweetheart, so let’s not talk about it.”
“Okay then,” I say. “We won’t talk about it.” I glance at the window. “I think the sun is coming up, we’ve been at this so long.”
“My father needs to be frozen out,” Eric replies. “Waiting makes him nervous, and a nervous man in trouble makes stupid decisions.”
“And we’re watching,” Blake says, giving me a wink. “And we’re badasses.” He lifts his chin at Eric. “Not as badass as your savantright here, but badass enough. And yes. We all need sleep. Call me if you need me. I’ll lock up on my way out.” He heads for the door.
Eric pushes off the arm of the couch and helps me up. “Let’s go shower and get some sleep.”
I nod, and he slides his arm around me and that’s how we walk up the stairs. We don’t even talk. We stand under a hot shower together, each deep in thought, and for me, the exhaustion is to the bone. And yet, when we climb in Eric’s bed, and he folds me close, my head on his chest, his hand on the back of my head, I can feel us both thinking.
For me, it’s a replay of plan C.
The one where people die.
Chapter sixty-eight
Harper
Iwake to the warm wicked wonderful scent of Eric and roll over to discover he’s gone. I sit up and scan the room and he’s nowhere in immediate view. A glance at the clock tells me it’s only ten in the morning, which still means we slept maybe four hours, or I did. I can’t help but wonder how long he’s been up and what might have lured him out of bed.
Worried now, I throw away the blanket and push to my feet, and pad my way to the bathroom. Eric’s not present, but I take a quick break to pee, and then use his brush to right my messy hair. I then dig around for an extra toothbrush. When I hit the jackpot in a cabinet, I put it to fast use. Hopefully the shopping bags Mia left me will have something I can wear, because for now, I’m stuck in Eric’s shirt.
Exiting the bedroom, I walk to the railing overlooking the lower level, and find Eric alone, sitting at the island with a Rubik’s cube in his hand and a coffee cup by his side. A fresh T-shirt and damp tendrils of hair on his brow tell me he’s showered and dressed, and I slept through it all.
I watch him sip his coffee and then starts fiddling with the cube, turning it and turning it, his mind working to solve a puzzle. I’m not sure I should interrupt him and when I glance right and find all the bags Mia brought sitting on the floor, I decide to shower and dress first. I snatch them up and make two trips to the closet, that’s how many they are.
Turns out Mia thought of everything, and I don’t even have to dig through all the bags right now to find what I need. I find several outfits, all in the correct sizes which must mean Blake hacked my shopping records. There’s no other way they’d know my size. I try on a few things and then head to the shower with shampoo andconditioner in hand.
Once I’m showered, I dress and snatch up the bags I know hold make-up and a flat iron. Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed in black pants and a black sweater, with my hair flat ironed, and my make-up lightly done. I spray on a jasmine perfume from FRESH I found in one of the bags. All of this must have been thousands of dollars, and I am sure Eric paid the bill. I’ll pay him back because I will not allow him to feel I am with him for his money.
I rotate with the intent of heading downstairs only to find him standing in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. “Hi,” I say, and point to the cup. “Is that for me?”
