Page 50 of Stealing Blinds

I guess I’m going to New Orleans.

CASH

Me: I’m bringing her home.

An unfathomable level of rage coursed through my veins this morning when Sylvie detailed her past several years. The ferocity of my drive to fix it was staggering. So far beyond anything I’d ever experienced. If it hadn’t already been clear, there on that beach, I realized this woman had gotten so far inside me that she was embedded in my bones.

And while that’s fucking terrifying, sending that text is rejuvenating. Even more exhilarating than when I sent the message announcing I’d found her. I feel high. And held hostage. Like a Stockholm-syndrome hostage. I can’t escape, but I don’t think I want to.

Last night, after I talked to Sterling, I called Axel and told him I was hoping I could convince Sylvie to come back with me. I wanted him to be prepared for her to stay with us and make any needed arrangements. That intense kitchen conversation earlier presented a perfect opportunity. Sterling and I hadn’t planned that, like Sylvie believed. But I think we’d both drawn the same conclusion after we spoke in her office. And like cons tend to do, I read her intent at lunch long before she alluded to it. And I pounced.

La Lune Noire is where Sylvie needs to be. My family and I can get her through this.

Beyond that, I’m not sure what the hell we’re doing. But she got on the fucking plane, so I’ll take the rest one moment at a time.

I’ve got the memory of her lips against mine to keep me satiated. Or haunted. Flashes of shimmery, tanned skin and supple curves. And moans that nearly had me coming in my swim trunks. Fuck, she’s a dream. That orange knit bikini will be burned if she thinks she’s wearing it anywhere in public again. But that’s a conversation for another day.

Maddox: Way to go, bro. What is the state of relations?

Me: Murky.

Maddox: Friend, foe, or feline?

Tessa: What the hell kind of question is that?

Mercy: It’s about the purring.

Maddox: I’m not sure that’s how I would’ve answered, but, yeah, Merce, let’s go with that.

Jax: Those categories are not always mutually exclusive.

Ryker: I can attest to an overlap.

Zara: I agree that purring can happen in various states of relations.

Axel: Regardless, I don’t think asking if the girl has purred is putting our best foot forward in the welcome wagon.

Me: Best paw forward would’ve been wittier. Or you could’ve gone with something about a catcall. The point is to stay on theme, Pawpaw Axe. See what I did there? If you’re going to do something, do it right.

Axel: I was the one person not giving you a hard time. But then again, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.

Me: Better, but there’s no need to be catty.

Mercy: We should make a Venn diagram to document the overlap.

Jax: On it.

Me: You’ve all had your fun. This shit needs to be out of your systems before we arrive. She’s already on edge. I want her to feel at home.

Maddox: Better give us the CliffsNotes.

Jax: We could survey her for the Venn diagram.

Ryker: Or simply greet her with Maddox’s original question.

Axel: You’re usually in this pack of wolves, so you know how this works. Gotta give ’em something.

Me: She was pissed I showed up, but happy to see me. I kept my dick in the friend zone and kissed her in the ocean. She melted in my arms but is still pushing platonic. And I’ve somehow summoned saintlike patience.