“Might be important,” she says.
I glance at the screen and groan. “It’s Gran.”
Cybil bites back a smile. “You should probably answer that.”
“I’ll call her back,” I whisper, already leaning in again. “Eventually.”
“What if she’s”—Cybil raises a brow, voice teasing—“holding the bingo caller hostage?”
I sigh. “You’re right.” I press a quick kiss to her forehead and answer the call, putting it on speaker as I brace for impact.
“Gran, you’d better not be calling me from a jail cell.”
Her voice crackles through the line, full of indignation and zero remorse.
“It’s not a jail cell—it’s a holding room. And I told them if there was a limit on the wine samples”—she hiccups—“they should’ve said that in the first place.”
Chapter 44
Cybil
Dallas, Texas
One month later
The city slips past in a blur of headlights and heat shimmer, the kind of thick summer night that clings to your skin even with the windows up. Downtown Dallas glows ahead of us, skyscrapers lit like someone strung stars through steel. The hum of cicadas follows us even here, muffled by the hum of the car’s AC and the low, rhythmic thud of tires over warm pavement.
Joy fans herself dramatically with the gala invite. “Remind me again why these things can’t be held in January?”
I adjust the clasp on my necklace, the AC doing its best against the sticky Dallas heat. “Because if the rich don’t have to suffer for fashion, they don’t earn their philanthropic street cred.”
She smirks. “Right. Nothing says ‘selfless humanitarian’ like pit stains on a Versace tux.”
She leans forward, peering out the tinted windows as the city lights flicker across her dress. “Hey—wasn’t it somewhere around here you almost tossed out the FBI agent you kidnapped?”
I see the driver glance at me in the rearview mirror, brows raised just slightly.
“Maybe wedon’ttalk about me kidnapping a federal agent,” I whisper,though I can’t help smiling. It wasn’t funny then, but now? Now I can find the humor in it. Mostly.
Joy leans in, stage-whispering with a grin, “Okay, what about the FBI agent youshot?”
The car jerks slightly to the left, sending Joy tumbling into my shoulder with a startled squeak. The driver mutters an apology in a tone that says heverymuchregrets picking up this ride.
We burst into laughter.
I can’t believe it’s only been a month. It’s felt like both a lifetime and a long weekend with apocalyptic vibes.
The news over the last week has been a carousel of headlines. It’s only been three weeks since the incident at the construction site, but the federal indictment dropped faster than anyone expected. Wire fraud. Racketeering. Economic espionage. Illegal export of strategic resources. Jimmy Rook’s name was all over the indictments too—along with a somber little paragraph announcing the untimely death of financial consultant Craig Miller.RIP, buddy.
There’s no mention of Earl or Sebastian Edmond. Not publicly. Not yet. Maybe there won’t be—because their testimony helped seal the case against Ramirez. I don’t know what kind of deal they made, but I hope the second chance given to them reminds them that doing the right thing isn’t weakness. It’s the hardest kind of strength.
When our laughter finally dies down, Joy leans back against the cool leather seat and sighs. “Remember the last time you got dressed up for a gala?”
I snort, adjusting the clasp on my necklace. “Yeah. I ended up stepping in a public toilet and nearly got caught spying on my childhood nemesis.”
Joy grins. “Do you think he actually would’ve arrested you?”
“Yes,” I say deadpan. “And he would’ve loved every second of it.”
