Page 4 of Cusp: A Renzo + Lucia Companion

He gave her another look. Her noise gave him the impression she didn’t understand the concept of a parent and child. It made him consider her further—if only because he was curious how she found her way to The League when she looked to be an age where she probably still needed a parent minding her. Then again, who was he to talk when he practically raised himself?

“Orphan?” he asked.

Ren didn’t need to say more for her to understand.

Luv shrugged. “Chosen.”

What did that mean?

He opted not to ask.

At the front of the room, Dare continued on. “The name we’ll be using for this job is Selective.”

The man’s stare found Renzo.

“And why is that, New York?”

Goddammit.

That nickname still stuck.

Cree always smiled when someone else used it.

The room turned on Renzo in the corner. A long time ago, the attention might have annoyed him if for no other reason than he didn’t appreciate people staring just because they felt like it. Right then, however, he didn’t have time to be bothered when Dare was waiting for an answer.

Always testing them, he knew.

It never failed.

“Selective destruction,” Renzo said, looking over the new image on the projection—the layout for the bank and the vaults.

Because apparently, there was more than one.

“Selective destruction,” Dare echoed. “Exactly. It’s how we’ll handle entering and removing what we need from the vaults. Minimal damage to lessen any blowback after the job is done, but also for the client. He would like his gold. Undamaged. You all will receive a secure text with file attachments in two minutes. You’ll find more information on this job. Preparations begin immediately. Don’t waste time.”

Luv bounced beside Renzo. “Well, this looks like fun.”

He didn’t bother to reply because a text had his phone buzzing in his pocket. Pulling the device out to check it, he hoped it would be his wife—Lucia still kept him updated on her day, but now with the addition of pictures and voice memos from his three-year-old son, too.

There, life was a dream.

Here, it was entirely different.

It wasn’t Lucia. It was from Rose. His sister’s message didn’t have him smiling, either. We need to talk about Diego, it read. What was that about?

Renzo didn’t think he’d like it. Whatever it was. For the most part, Rose handled everything about Diego because Ren couldn’t when he had to travel back and forth between New York and Nevada. He helped when he could, but she was in their teenage brother’s everyday grind. She was the one who made sure the kid got up, did what he needed to do, and everything else. If she said they needed to talk, then he’d make time.

He typed back a quick I’ll call in a bit as Dare said from the front of the room, “Bomb specialist will have final say on all plans—he’ll be the final act in this. Make sure you know where and what he’s doing because of it. Ren?”

His head popped up from his phone.

Right.

He was the bomb specialist here.

“Sounds good,” he told Dare.

Dare clicked a button on the remote, and the projection screen disappeared from the wall. At the same time, every phone in the room that belonged to a member buzzed, dinged or rang in some fashion. Including Renzo’s.

“Your files have arrived,” their boss said, “so get to work.”