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“Sure. Breakfast for dinner is totally a thing.” He jerked his head toward his bag. “I even brought a bottle of maple syrup from where we were training in Ontario so we’ve got the proper Canadian stuff. I could spare you a dollop or two. If you ask nicely.”
The glint in his eyes was more teasing than anything now, but in a way that felt almost… friendly rather than heckling. I didn’t know how to respond.
Niko slung his arm casually around Jasper’s waist and grinned at me too. “I know, the man is insane. But I have to admit the maple syrup is pretty nice.”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever had anything other than regular table syrup. I mentally flicked through my charts of calorie counts and protein quotas, and then shook myself.
The two of them weren’t being weird about my whole mom situation. And they were volunteering to spend more time with me.
I wasn’t going to get anywhere with Lou unless I was getting along with the guys she’d already chosen for herself too.
I aimed for the same dry but not hostile tone. “Jasper St. Pierre is trying to give me early diabetes—I guess it’s my lucky day.”
Niko laughed. “That sounds like a yes to me.” He waved at my skates. “Get changed and let’s head out. I’m sure we can manage to drag Rafael along too.”
I sat down on the bench with a half-hearted grumble and snuck a sideways peek at Jasper as he wiped down his own skates. Watching for any sign that he was regretting his invitation.
Weirdly enough, he hadn’t lost his smile.
Huh. I wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but… maybe they weren’t such bad guys after all. I might actually enjoy this dinner.
ELEVEN
Luciana
Standingoff to the side of my bedroom window, I watched as Mom got into the back of the waiting car. The sleek sedan pulled out of the mansion’s driveway and headed down the main road beyond.
I’d overheard her telling one of her underlings that she had “errands to run.” No telling exactly what those were, but I figured it’d give me at least an hour before she returned. And in the middle of the morning, barely anyone else in the house was roaming around.
Which made it the perfect opportunity to carry out a little “errand” of my own.
I slunk down the hall to her office door, twirling a lock pick between my fingers. When I caught no hint of anyone stirring in the rooms nearby, I knelt down, retrieved the second pick from my pocket, and went to work on the lock.
Mom had seen that I was well-trained. The lock was a good one as standard deadbolts went, but that only meant it took me ten seconds rather than five to disengage it.
Stuffing the picks back in my jeans, I turned the knob carefully. Not that anyone other than Mom hung out in this room, and I knew she was gone.
Voices traveled up the stairs from the foyer. I froze and then leapt the rest of the way into the office. Holding my breath, I eased the door shut as quickly as I could while keeping the click of its closing quiet.
No footsteps mounted the stairs. I stood there with ears pricked through several nervous thuds of my heart and then exhaled in relief.
I turned toward the rest of the room, my gaze skimming over the antique furnishings and their neatly arranged contents. Mom was a big believer in “everything in its place.”
Her laptop sat in the middle of the elegant desk. She’d even left it open.
With a giddy skip of my pulse, I hurried over and rested my hands on the keyboard. My tap to wake up the screen brought with it a password window.
Shit.
I grimaced at the screen and made a couple of attempts—her birthdate, my name. But Mom was smarter than that. And also not particularly sentimental, as I was well aware.
The chances of me guessing her password before I got locked out and revealed my treachery were pretty much nil. With a sigh, I moved away from the computer.
The desk offered plenty of other opportunities to dig up some kind of evidence of Mom’s plans that I might be able to use for additional leverage. I peeked through the few papers she’d left in a tidy stack at one corner and then tugged open each of the drawers in turn.
I found business receipts and contracts, financial statements and random notes, but nothing that looked like it related to her intended attack on some of her Devil’s Dozen colleagues. But then, anything to do with that she’d presumably want to keep extra hidden.
I tapped on the back of the drawers in turn and couldn’t suppress a grin when one wobbled a little. When I curled my fingertips over the edge, I was able to tug open a narrow hidden compartment that held a few more pieces of paper.
