Page 117 of Stealing Blinds

“Yep.”

RECON

We’re back in the conference room today, examining what we believe are the security checkpoints and doing the best we can to compile a possible guest list.

“It doesn’t exist anywhere?” Axel asks in frustration. “Surely, the resort has something.”

Sylvie shakes her head. “They’re known for how secretive the invitations are. Social media is forbidden—one mention, and you’re banned for life—so there’s no precedent. E told me it wasn’t important, so I can’t get it from him. Last year, I didn’t get a glimpse of those on the main level beyond the handful of names I already provided to you, and I couldn’t find anything else. The Wall Street Journal even tried to access it for an article a few years ago, to no avail.”

“What we do have is a profile.” Ryker tosses a stack of papers down. “Billionaires. Tech industry moguls. Super-elite stars. And sometimes, the invited bring other high-profile guests.”

“Like how Axel is approved to bring all of us,” I muse, “which opens us up to endless possibilities.”

Maddox shuffles through the papers that Ryker threw down and narrows his gray eyes at him. “Five thousand names meet the profile?”

Despite the astronomical number, Jax hunkers down at the table, silently combing through each one and ignoring the rest of us.

“I’ve got it on the computer, and Liam’s working on it too,” Ryker says. “I just wanted to demonstrate what we’re up against. Axel and Zara can use some of the information they have to guesstimate who might be there and whether they are involved. But you’ll have to do some evaluation after you arrive.”

“Why are the specific guests important?” Tessa asks.

“Because it isn’t enough to know where the security guards are stationed.” Zara paces, her wheels turning as she works through the specifics and lays it out. “That gets us in, but the guests could impede our exit. We need to figure out who’s invested in that information.”

“We basically have three groups of people to narrow down,” Sylvie tacks on. “The guards, Kratos, and the unknown group that the keyholders are a part of—let’s call them X.”

I walk over to the bar, freshen my coffee, and fix a cup for Sylvie. “Did we get anything off Danny Gordon’s phone?”

Even out of the corner of my eye, I see her shoulders go rigid at the sound of his name. Since I’ve taken the saintly road and not killed the bastard, I am determined to help her bring her warranted feminine rage to the next level. But one mission at a time, I suppose.

“There’s a strong case to be made that he threw the last few NHL games because Peter Fairfax had money riding against him,” Axel supplies, “but nothing pertaining to who Peter is connected to.”

I deliver coffee, fruit, and a pastry to Sylvie, pushing her list away so she takes a break to refuel since her stress level has been rising. “Peter is going to be suspicious about seeing all of us there after Sylvie and I were at his party, so whoever his associates are might be watching.”

“Then we need to throw him off.” Jax flips a sheet over, sparing Sylvie and me a brief glance. “Controlled chaos.”

“Yes,” Axel sighs in agreement. “And we’ll make decisions about everyone else after our first night there.”

“We’re going in blind,” Sylvie hisses under her breath, though I think I’m the only one who hears her.

“Eat something, please.” I plant a kiss on her temple and nudge the plate. “Once we’re there, I can gauge tells.” When her eyes flit up to me, I use the cockiness that both weakens her knees and annoys her to ease her concerns. “No one reads a room like I do. We’ve got a whole night to study them. I can narrow down who’s there for duplicitous reasons in the first hour.”

“I bet you can get us a strong take.” Axel swills his Glenfiddich 30 Year. “I’m sure we’ll all see a lot through simple observation. This could be the peek into Kratos’s network that we need.”

Ryker rolls his dice on the table. “What about the staff?”

“Oh, yes.” Sylvie tinkers with her laptop and casts it on the conference room screen. “These five employees have key cards on them at all times that access the elevator to the lower level. Once we have the codes, we need these too.”

“So”—Tessa highlights a name on her sheet—“we’re trying to figure out who might have an interest in what’s happening on the lower level and who to avoid on our way out?”

“Yeah.” Sylvie finally breaks off a piece of her croissant. “I assume the reason E didn’t want the drop to be there was as much about being caught by security as it was by the other group.”

Axel rubs his jaw in deliberation. “Maybe who we need to worry about most is E.”

Two days before we’re set to leave, I wake up to Sylvie not in bed, so I shuffle out of my room and wander around the penthouse. Eventually, I find her and Remy in the kitchen, light streaming in from the skylights and windows to shower them in a warm honey glow that frames the scene perfectly.

They’re cutting dough together at the kitchen island.

“Thanks for helping me make these this morning.” Sylvie’s voice carries a strange mix of joy and pain. “I used to make cinnamon rolls with my dad. My mom likes the kind from a can, which are good too. Easier, but not as fun.”