Page 42 of Double Down

Conrad's temper has stayed paper-thin; the other day I watched him slam a door so hard its window-glass spidered.

Maverick spends his days smiling until his face hurts. Fake it until we fucking fix it.

I may have left a knife in the wall yesterday when a bartender lied about his whereabouts during the murder window. Not that I thought he was involved, but I was trying to rule out suspects while doing the massive layoffs.

Worse, Phoenix still looks over her shoulder. She's stopped fighting to be included in everything, which bothers me.

She's silent about the texts, avoiding confrontation, dancing around us like she's terrified of upsetting the status quo. That is not the fiery angel I know. I want her fight, I want her demands, but she does nothing.

It's driving us all insane and I’m about to snap when Atticus drags us all out of the suite after dinner.

No one says a word until all five of us are up in the offices overlooking the casino.

“There aren’t any bugs in here.” He mutters unhelpfully. “I’ve got a system to sweep our floor, but I haven’t had time to use it properly yet.”

Maverick leans against the wall, arms crossed. Conrad sits, jaw clenched. Phoenix is in the corner, watching like a ghost while Zeus takes his position at Phoenix’s feet. I take the chair beside her, my blade already spinning in my hand because of course Atticus is speaking in fucking riddles.

“They haven’t made a move,” Atticus says quietly. “But they didn’t leave that body for no reason. They are waiting, watching us lose our minds."

He turns his laptop screen toward the rest of us, showing us an active feed of a map with red and yellow blobs. Heat signatures.

“They’ve been watching us. They’ve got eyes on the resort.”

“How many?” Conrad asks as we all lean forward.

“Too many.”

“What are they waiting for?” I ask, not letting my fear for Phoenix show on my face.

Atticus looks at Phoenix, and she flinches, her head down.

“I’m not sure, and that’s what scares me.”

But watching Phoenix, it’s clear she doesn’t trust us enough to share… and I’m pretty sure that her secret is going to be our downfall.

10

Phoenix

From:Phoenix Jones

To: Mr. Masterson

RE:The boys are clocking obscene hours and keeping their heads down: Atticus buried in systems, Conrad shouldering leadership, Maverick smiling through the grind; nothing you’d call “trouble,” just work.

Unknown

You’re running out of time, little girl.

The call comes in first at 7:23 a.m.,Unknown Callerflashing across my screen, and then line after line of texts before I’ve barely blinked awake.

I don’t answer it. I know who it is, and I have nothing to say to them. It’s the same area code that keeps calling and sending threatening messages. I haven’t answered any of their calls, and I have no intention of doing so.

There’s no point.

The call goes to voicemail, and when that notification pops up, I delete it with a swipe of my forefinger. It doesn’t matter, though. The texts follow a few seconds later, anyway.

Unknown