Page 124 of Stealing Blinds

Rena nodded and ping-ponged her watery hazel eyes between us. “Our mom would’ve loved you. Come meet my girls.”

She dragged Sylvie away, but while I had drinks with the guys, I watched Sylvie interact with my sister, Ivy (Wells’s wife), Celeste (Liam’s wife), Leigh (Gage’s wife), their kids, and Zara, Tessa, and Mercy. And I wondered how I’d ever underestimated the beauty of our family multiplying.

All the women are strong and awe-inspiring. They have to be with this group of men. Seeing Sylvie among them was once again confirmation of how well she fit.

Like it is tonight.

She rubs my thigh, sips some water, and sits taller as the sun dips into the vibrant now-turquoise sea and the dusk-to-dawn rope lighting illuminates the deck. “I’d love to go over a few touch points before we dock.”

They all immediately give her the floor, and Axel dips his chin, eyes flicking to me. Impressed.

Sylvie is deserving of every bit of admiration thrown her way.

She’s stunning, as always, both in her poised brilliance and her elegant beauty—showcased with a classy A-line dress. The portion above her waist is black and sleeveless, hooking around her neck. And the lower half is azure silk with a sexy slit and some floral details.

Despite the gentle swaying overcoming the yacht as it nears shore, Sylvie is utterly grounded. “Wells and Liam should be able to get in and out with our feed in about twenty to thirty minutes, right?”

When we landed in Rome, we obtained the SDV—the submarine that Wells and Liam will take in to get us into the security system. Since we’re getting close, we just moved it out of the tender garage and submerged it, towing it for the final jaunt.

“Yes,” Wells confirms, swiping his raven-black hair off his forehead. “If all goes well, it should be less than twenty.”

“Great,” she sighs, hinting at the anxiety she’s harboring but addressing the rest of us. “We’ll pack the tender while they’re occupied and motor in once they have full visibility. After registration, we have a few hours to finish recon. We want to spread out and cover as many people as possible because by noon tomorrow, we’re in motion.”

The air thickens—all of us settling into the rush and weight of what lies ahead.

“We will all be on an inductive loop system.” She gestures to Ty, who distributes some materials while she continues, “We’ve got micro-magnetic earpieces and small microphones. Comms need to be in at all times, but keep the mics off and the back-and-forth chatter to a minimum when one of us is with someone of interest so that conversation isn’t lost.”

Other than Wells and his guys, we’re all donning our cocktail-party best, so we situate the mics and earpieces and say a bunch of stupid shit to each other because the only thing that makes our idiotic banter better is having it amplified.

Eventually, Sylvie adopts that sexy-schoolteacher vibe she had when we trained, reining us in. “The guards’ specific posts will be visible on camera, but we need to know what they snack on, what they talk about, how often they take breaks, whether there’s a weak link, and how seriously they view this convention.”

“My beautiful Nightmare and I are on that.” Maddox stretches an arm behind Tessa, and everything about them screams trouble. They’ll make the guests squirm, but they’ll get the job done.

“Perfect.” Sylvie bites back a giggle. “We also need the employee schedule.”

“I got that,” Jax volunteers as he lights a joint by snatching Liam’s Zippo flame when he snicks it open out of habit.

“Good plan,” Axel deadpans, and Wells’s crew can’t contain their amusement.

But my brilliant bandit moves along, her vanilla-bourbon scent blending with the floral notes wafting to us from the island about a mile away. “Our keyholders should have some special attention without it being too obvious.”

Axel raises his scotch glass while palming his wife’s head. “Zara and I have that covered.”

“Good.” Sylvie turns to Liam. “I know we’ll be looking at everyone tonight, but we need a constant watch on Peter Fairfax, Beatrice Shaeffer, and Elliot Spencer—the keyholders; Nigel Dryden, who I refer to as E; and anyone they’re with for more than a brief greeting.”

A menacing smirk lights up Gage’s face. “I will personally be watching all four.”

Sylvie nods, nibbling her lip as it likely dawns on her that this huge—performance-enhanced—bald, and tatted former Navy SEAL generally does far more than keep an eye on people he deems an enemy. “Well, then, that’s in good hands.”

Ty leans forward, his customary concern cloaking his features with those boyish brown curls my sister swoons over falling across his forehead. “He’s not as scary as he looks.”

Sylvie arches a dubious brow. “Really?”

Gage smacks his palm to his chest, aghast—either because Sylvie thinks he’s scary or because Ty suggested he wasn’t. “Fucking wounded.”

Wells rubs his jaw and chuckles, sharing a look with Axel in an unspoken exchange.

“Not where you’re concerned,” Liam breaks in, cupping his mouth like he’s telling Sylvie a secret. “But that motherfucker could make the Hulk piss his pants.”