Page 137 of Double Down

Conrad arrives then, quiet and nuclear, sliding between us with the kind of smile that makes stock prices move.

“Senator,” he says warmly, as if he hasn’t just walked into a minefield. “Thank you for coming by. Our counsel is eager to brief you on everything we’ve discovered. We’re shutting down the problem and pursuing the perpetrators. Meanwhile, we’ll ensure Mrs. Langford receives appropriate medical care.”

Langford recalibrates to the bigger target. “There will be consequences.”

“There will,” Conrad agrees. “For the criminals who used our property to commit felonies. We share your outrage. I’ve already requested a joint meeting with the Board to discuss how we handle situations like this, not just our resort but everyone’s. You can take the win in your next hearing.Senator Langford spurs industry cleanup. Has a nice ring.”

The man blinks. Politics is a dopamine addiction; Conrad just dangled a bigger hit. He looks between us—my barely leashed violence, Conrad’s reasonable power—and makes a choice.

“We’ll speak again,” he says, coldly. He offers his arm to Karen, who swans away like she conquered Rome with a headache and a hat.

“Let’s speak now,” Conrad says. “Why don’t we go to my office, while your wife enjoys a drink at the bar.”

They leave, the senator giving one last look at Phoenix, and his wife eyeing me like a steak.

I stand there, hands shaking, chest hot. Phoenix slides in front of me, palms flat on my sternum, gaze steady. I try to breathe. It sounds like a growl.

“I almost punched a senator,” I say.

“You almost did a lot of things,” she says, not unkind. “Thank you for choosing the one where we don’t spend the afternoon in handcuffs.”

“He asked for you,” I say. “Like you were a tip.”

“I know. I was there.”

I look over her head at Atticus as he stands near the column, eyes distant, running probability trees only he can see. Storm leans against the concierge desk like a decorative threat, flipping his knife open and shut with lazy menace, daring anyone to complain about the music volume.

Security lingers at the edges with professional stillness, their hands folded in front of them, their eyes everywhere.

PR’s already texting me.

PR HOUND

Need statement if seen together. Also: hat memes trending.

When the fuck did they all get down here, and why?

“Why us?” I ask, not expecting an answer. “Why now?”

Phoenix doesn’t try to lie. “I don’t know.”

I know one thing. If I’m destined for prison, it won’t be for losing my temper in a lobby. It’ll be for whatever I do to the men behind this when we finally drag them into a room without cameras.

“Come on,” she says, tugging my sleeve. “We’ve got work to do.”

We do. And until I understand the why, I have to keep moving.

I watch the elevator doors close on the senator and Conrad, the hat vanishing with the man who wears her like a prop, then turn back to the bigger problem… unless the senator isn’t a side plot at all—unless he’s part of the author list.

37

Storm

I getto the lobby just in time to see Phoenix shove Maverick back, her little hands on his chest, to keep him from rearranging a senator’s face. Jesus Christ, now I understand why Atticus wanted us down here.

My pulse spikes, not because of the fight brewing but because I recognize the bastard instantly. Langford. Senator Fucking Langford. I’d know his face anywhere, and it’s not because I give a fuck about politics.

That fucker is the one who, years ago, cornered Phoenix at the pool when she was barely fifteen. She was tanning in a tiny white bikini that haunted my every thought that entire summer.