Page 64 of Cash

“Seven-thousand-three-hundred square feet,” I told Zane while scrolling on my tablet. “Three levels. Basement is walk-out—rec room, laundry, two small bedrooms, kitchenette, a bathroom, and sunroom with outdoor access. Main floor—entrance is in the foyer stairs leading to both the upper floor and basement. To the right is the living room, left is the dining. There’s a short hall to the right—closet, bathroom, bedroom. Through the foyer is the office on the right, left is the breakfast area, kitchen, family room. Stairs in the family room both up and down. Egress in the breakfast and family rooms. Garage access is off the family room. Upper floor—master takes up the right side, four other bedrooms all with attached baths.”

“You’re good with her,” Zane said apropos of nothing, completely ignoring my house briefing as he drove.

I couldn’t think about Cara right now. I couldn’t think about her sad, scared eyes or her happy smile or the way she hugged Zane tight before she skipped away to get back to her new friends. She didn’t behave like a traumatized child who’d lost her parents, been stored in a saferoom, and had her new guardian torn from her just a few hours ago.

I couldn’t remember ever feeling like Cara looked—not carefree, but something close to it. By the time I was her age, I was already begging for scraps.

Unloved.

Unwanted.

A castoff.

And what about Blair McKnight, was she a castoff? What had her family done to her to make her turn against them? What evidence had Michael shown her that would make her trust him? Lore didn’t trust, neither did Stella, but had Blair? Had the young, smiling, rich girl been naïve?

Yeah, I couldn’t think about that right now either.

I had to stay focused, resurrect Lore—the skilled, competent, and experienced operator. That woman who could handle anything. If I allowed my mind to drift to Stella, the one who was Lolo, the woman who called Cara, Care Bear and read bedtime stories and made up fanciful tales, I’d break.

“Cash—”

“I can’t,” I cut him off. “I need Cara out of my mind. I need to remember how strong and capable Lore is. I need to turn everything off except for the mission.”

“Copy that,” Zane clipped, obviously unhappy I didn’t want to hash out my feelings. Or more than likely, I’d shut down his Commando Therapy session.

Feelings.

Since when did Zane Lewis want to discuss feelings in the middle of an op?

I went back to my tablet, studying the surrounding neighborhood around Damion’s property. Mentally mapped out the easiest way to infil. Then a secondary option if we needed to go in quietly. After that I went back to memorizing the floorplan when something hit me.

“Private jet⁠—”

“Kira already checked. It’s down for maintenance. She also checked all private rentals leaving the surrounding area—nothing leaving in the correct time frame.”

Of course she had. Kira was the best.

“Any security footage from Damion’s neighborhood?”

“Nothing unusual.”

I went back to my tablet, pulled up Google, and searched Damion McKnight. The fucker had a Wikipedia page. I opened the link, ignored the biography, and stared at the picture of Stella’s brother. I could see the similarities—they shared the same facial features, however, Stella’s were softened with femininity.

A vision of Penny invaded my mind. Now that I knew we shared a mother, I couldn’t deny we looked alike, something that I’d overlooked when I’d first met her. I inwardly cringed at my reaction to Penny. I’d accused the woman of hitting on me. One day that would undoubtedly be the source or ribbing, but for now, not a single person was touching on the topic.

With a shake of my head, I went back to the Wikipedia page instead of reading about the man. I went to the section that listed Damion’s relatives. Blair McKnight was a blue, clickable link. Her page opened up and I immediately realized my mistake. Another picture of Stella…Blair…young and beautiful with a radiant smile.

I closed my eyes against the fear that gathered in my chest.

“Fuck,” I groaned. “I don’t understand. She told Cara these stories about us. The King, the Dove, and the Snake. She programmed our numbers for Cara to use if she ever needed help. She trusted us with her Goddaughter. But she never fucking called.”

“She trusted you,” Zane corrected. “Nebraska and I were backup. But it’s you she trusts.”

“Right. But not enough to call me,” I spat.

“Cash, that’s not about you. She trusts you. It’s herself she doesn’t trust.”

“I don’t⁠—”