Page 152 of Cozen

“I take it this wasn’t an easy job for you, all things considered.”

“One of the most unusual jobs of my life.”

“Really—the most unusual?”

Cozen laughed. “A mark I hadn’t seen, and wasn’t easily found. A man in my way who knew better. Another man obsessed with me to a dangerous point. A contractor threatening my life, and shortening my deadline … yes, most unusual.”

Pearl gave Fourth a pointed stare as she said, “Did you do that?”

“Well—”

“Fourth,” Pearl admonished.

“I got your ring back, didn’t I?” Fourth leaned over, and grabbed his great-grandmother’s hand before pressing a kiss to her weathered knuckles. “Just like I promised I would, Great-Grandmamma.”

Pearl’s severe expression melted into one of happiness. “You did. Astor men always keep their word, don’t they?”

“We do,” Fourth said.

Pearl’s attention came back to Cozen for a quick second. “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s terribly impatient. I blame it on his father—his raising.”

“You helped raise me,” Fourth muttered. “You forget that.”

His great-grandmother paid him no mind.

Cozen shrugged, and waved the whole thing off. “I think this heist was a good end for me. Or rather, a good way to leave this … world of ours. The job I should have refused because of circumstance, and the job that finally gave me enough of a thrill that I don’t have to keep chasing after the next one.”

“This one was enough, hmm?” Pearl asked.

“Eventually, all thieves find the job where they know it’s the last one. It’s a part of the business. We all get out eventually.”

Pearl lifted a single white eyebrow high. “And was it satisfactory, Cozen?”

“Pardon?”

“Ending it here. Is it a satisfactory end for you?”

“Almost. I have to tell someone else, too.”

Pearl gave a nod like she understood, and then gestured at Fourth. The man was quick to stand from the table, and leave the room. A minute or so later, he was back with a file in his hands that he handed over to Cozen.

“All the details of the transfer are in there,” Fourth said, taking his seat again. “The rest of your money will be in the Swiss bank account of Grace Cozen Jones by this evening. I just approved them.”

“Where does the Jones come from, anyway?” Pearl asked. “I thought you were a Taylor.”

“A Taylor when I need to be—a Jones because I want to be.”

“A revolving door of identities, I know. I am sure it does you well when you need documents to back up a story. I asked where the Jones came from, child.”

Cozen stood from the table, and twisted the gold band on her thumb. “My husband. It comes from my husband.”

“You’re married?”

“Five beautiful years,” Cozen whispered. “And he never lets me down.”

Cozen let her bare feet drag through the warm sand as she strolled down the beach. The sandals dangled from her fingertips—she liked to walk with nothing on when she was here. Her flimsy summer dress blew wildly with the breeze, and cold water came up to wash over her feet with the tide.

The sky was a pretty color.