Page 11 of Nothing to Beat (Nothing to… #13)

HOW LONG HAD SHE known Zairn Lomond? A long time.

They’d never been close, yet that wouldn’t stop her giving him both barrels.

What was he thinking of putting ideas in Breck’s head?

Yeah, okay, so Breck wasn’t usually easily led, in fact, some may call him a cynic, a skeptical cynic, but this U-turn was way out of character.

If Zairn had the idea she was some wallflower, he was about to learn otherwise. Breck wanted to take action? She’d take action. Damn right. Get her shit together? Her shit was about to be collated quick smart.

Returning to Rouge HQ, the scene of the crime, so to speak, the elevator granted her access to the executive floor where security guards spotted her. Crossing the floor’s lobby, she called a different elevator, one with intricate engravings, different from the others: Zairn’s private elevator.

Her clearance wouldn’t get her any higher, no, but she’d made a call.

Not to the Rouge Overlord himself, nope, why give the guy notice of her wrath?

No. Calm down. That wasn’t the way to think about it.

This impromptu meeting couldn’t be adversarial.

They should be allies. Fat chance of that if he matched her attitude.

She should’ve got rid of her fizzing energy before rocking up there.

Another bad idea, she was on a role. The available outlet for depressurization before the journey over was Breck…

and an empty apartment. And, oh, yeah, that guy was plenty good at diverting and expending her energy.

Nope. Nope. Bad. Bad plan. She wasn’t sleeping with him again until he’d got his shit together.

And the shit she meant wasn’t close to what he meant.

What had she been thinking telling him to go to her apartment?

Yes, it made more sense for him to have his own room than to take up residence in his brother’s girlfriend’s miniscule loft.

Not that it was embarrassingly miniscule—it was palatial in Manhattan terms at the estimated price point—but way too small to hold two Breckenridges.

It wasn’t like she and Breck had never lived together before, they had on and off for years, though it was “unofficial.” It wouldn’t surprise her if Darroch and Savvy’s living arrangement was unofficial too, regardless of their engagement.

Alice Breckenridge liked to think of all her boys living at home and no one refuted that.

Breck knew her apartment and to treat it as his own. As a roommate, he’d be conscientious, neat, respectful… A roommate? No, they’d never done that. Could they be roomies?

Another alien concept.

The elevator opened, producing Tripp. Ah, thank goodness, her ticket up.

“Seq…”

Laying her hands on his chest, she advanced, reversing him back into the elevator. “I need to go upstairs, Priest. All the way to the top.”

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a button that closed the doors. “You said on the phone. What’s so urgent? Want to fill me in?”

“I don’t have clearance to get into Zairn’s penthouse.”

“Not many people do.”

Reaching up, she ran her hand through his mussed hair in a pointless attempt at taming it. God, lovable rogue was so effortless.

“Ever heard of a comb?” She tucked a stray section behind his ear and smoothed his stubble. “This is the end of the day for most people. Did you just wake up?”

“Wake up? No. Get out of bed…”

Her hands dropped. “Please tell me you showered.”

“I showered,” he said, though his proceeding smirk contradicted the words. “I did…” then came a mutter, “just wasn’t the one holding the soap.”

With a head bob to the side and a brow flick, he disarmed everyone within a twelve-block radius.

“Okay, you get me inside and then you can go back to your lady… or ladies. I don’t want to know anything you wouldn’t tell your mother.”

Reaching past her, he hit a button. “Are you sure anyone’s in the penthouse?”

“It’s as good a place as any to start looking.”

“You’re amped,” Tripp said. “Cabe said you went to find Breck. Any movement?”

“Not yet,” she said, restraining a growl though there was no doubt her pseudo-brother-in-law didn’t see the truth of it in her expression. “I’m working on it.”

“It’s always you, Seq,” he said, draping an arm around her. “You’re his world.”

“That’s never felt more like an accusation.” Not because of his tone, he was ever-and-always charming Tripp, non-judgmental, accepting, relaxed. Her own conscience on the other hand… “I’ll put this back together.”

“Got a plan?”

She bit the corner of her lip. “I’m working on that too.”

Thankful for the interruption, the moment they arrived at their destination, she was out on the hunt. Her first target wasn’t far away. The person in the living room leaped to their feet, but it wasn’t the somebody she was looking for.

“Roxie,” she said on a rush of breath, looking left and right. “I need Zairn.”

“He’s not here.” Roxie’s concern slowed her heart a little. “He’s at a meeting downtown. What do you need? I have access to pretty much everything—no, make that everything Zairn does.”

Tripp eased into her peripheral vision, slipping his hands in his pockets. “Seq…?”

Her gaze trailed to him. “If you want to leave, now is the time to go, because the shutters are about to come down. This is eyes only.”

“When have you known me to shy from trouble?”

She couldn’t blame him for figuring there would be trouble.

It was in her heritage. In her blood. She was the Jekyll and Hyde character in a cartoon, perfectly normal looking and amiable, while trailing around a cloud of thunder and lightning, zapping the poor people caught in her wake.

Ha, if that was her, imagine what followed her father.

“We need to talk about my sister.”

Though her focus was back on Roxie, Tripp’s fingers threaded between hers, locking them in support and comfort. And, no, she wasn’t thinking about what may have occupied those hands not so long ago.

“Your sister?” Roxie said, folding her arms in sync with a quick, shallow head shake. “Okay, has he spoken to her recently?”

“I don’t know. I need to know where she is. He’s the only one who knows.” The only one she knew who knew. “Unless he told you.”

Would her newly minted friend trust her enough to reveal the answer? She wasn’t sure she wanted Roxie to surrender too fast. Yes, she needed to know, but she also didn’t want her sister’s location given up too easy.

And what a can of worms. Okay, she admitted it, she’d avoided Zairn for this precise reason.

Not that their paths crossed often, but, until recently, she’d never actively swerved him.

Actively might be a bit much, except… When she heard what happened, heard there was a plan in the works, the first thing she should’ve done was get on board and track Zairn down.

Instead, she poured wine and went for a soak in the tub.

No amount of scrubbing would ever get that stink off.

“I’m behind the curve here,” Roxie said, glancing at Tripp. How could she be confused when the truth was so dire? Maybe the woman wasn’t sharp after all. “I’m looking for a Drury sister? Don’t think I know a Drury sister…”

Oh, shit. Duh. That explained the confusion.

“Seq uses her mom’s maiden name,” Tripp explained. “You’re not looking for a Drury.”

Perhaps for dramatic effect, he lingered. She could speak up, should speak up; it had been so long since she’d confessed the truth out loud. Confessed her shame. Owned her lineage. In her defense, it was a lineage she didn’t want. Couldn’t pick your family, right?

Maybe that’s what it was, Tripp wasn’t pausing to build the tension, he’d presented an opening he expected her to seize. Right, cue taken, time for her line…

“Still none the wiser…” Roxie might be chill now, how would she feel after hearing the truth? God, she hated when new people found out. The questions. Intrigue. Assumptions. Judgment. “I can snake Z’s phone if we take a ride. Whoever she is, she’ll be in there.”

“She won’t.” Her mouth dried, but this was it, no out now. “He wouldn’t be that careless.”

And knowing Zairn, not everyone in his directory would be listed under their real name. She’d be surprised if he even used his regular phone when talking to her sister.

Roxie’s aura thickened. “This is serious.”

“I’ll say,” Tripp said and picked up her missed line. “Seq here’s a Gambatto.”

“A Gamba—”

Roxie may have stopped talking, but her mouth stayed open.

“Yes, I confess,” she said on a resigned sigh. Where was that energy when she needed it? “My father is one of the nation’s biggest crime bosses—was. That’s obviously changed in recent—since everything. I hear the Irish have it now.”

Roxie’s arms fell loose at her sides, swinging under their own momentum. “You’re from Chicago?” Wait… what? “Oh my God!” Roxie hurried over to pull her into a hug. “How in the hell have you been in this city so long and we haven’t found each other?”

When the woman drew back, huge smile on her face, Sequoia almost recoiled. This was not a typical reaction to the news.

“From—yes—yes, I’m from Chicago.”

“You hide it well, why do you hide it? I should’ve known with the deep dish. Damn me for being distracted by its deliciousness. I saw you loved it, I just thought you had great taste.”

“I don’t—”

“Oh my God!” Roxie hugged her again. “I will never forgive Zairn for hiding this from me.”

“I don’t think he would hide it—”

“He definitely hid it,” Tripp said, all mischief.

Roxie took her hand and led her to the couch. She didn’t let go of Tripp, so he came too.

“This is perfect, amazing, I need more of home here. Do you get back much?”

“I don’t get back at all.” Talk about active avoidance? “I won’t go within a hundred miles of the city. Of the state.”

“Because you and your dad…” As Roxie trailed off, all three of them sat down. “Your sister. Trish? You want to talk to Trish?”

“Yes. I need to know where she is.”

“Because you want to…”

“Hear her testimony. I need to know how this will play out. Is it Joey? Is it Dad? What is she giving up because there are a lot of skeletons…”

“I imagine there’d have to be. Plan to talk her out of it?”

“No! Definitely no. That’s her choice. A brave one, but…”

“Easier with someone like Zairn stacking the deck,” Roxie said, then dropped a bomb. “He won’t tell you.”

That honesty startled her. “He won’t—”

“He won’t tell anyone.”

“No one?” Tripp asked. “He’s told no one?”

“Kinloch, in case he drops down dead, but anyone looking for Trish would have to find Mr. Gramercy-Peake first. Good luck to them. If they find him, they’d almost deserve the answer just as a reward for the achievement.”

“I need to talk to my sister.”

“Why the sudden urgency?” Roxie asked. “She’s been off the grid for—”

“Zairn and I don’t talk much, but I trust him to take the situation seriously.”

“He does. He absolutely does. She’s safe, you don’t have to worry about that. Although…”

“Although what?” Was this going to be a fight? If Roxie stood in her way, Zairn would never budge. “She’s my sister. I love her.”

“And rocking up to her door could draw the kind of attention we don’t want.”

Would a phone call be enough? She couldn’t deny the idea of seeing her sister again was appealing. It had been so long, so long, since she’d been face to face with any Gambatto other than herself. Sometimes it was difficult to look in the mirror for that very reason.

“She’s the only one I can trust. Trish won’t lie to me.”

“Maybe not…” Roxie said, clucking her tongue.

“You sure about that?” Tripp asked. “It’s been a long time…”

“Yes, it has, but—”

“Okay,” Roxie interrupted and bounced to her feet. “I’ve got this.”

“You’ll call Zairn?”

“Nope. I’ll call Dennis.”

The woman dashed to grab a phone from an end table near the fireplace.

“Dennis?” she asked, casting her eyes to Tripp.

“Her pilot.” Tripp’s intrigue-laced words closed around her. “Where we going, Rox Out?”

Phone still at her ear, Roxie tipped her chin toward them, showing a broad smile. “Home.”