“Go back to bed, Tristan. I’ll send you a message after I finish the list, and we’ll start working our way through it.”
He opened his mouth to say something more, then thought better of it. “At least promise me that you’ll eat something?”
“Sure.”
After one last kiss, Lila slipped downstairs in the darkness, her fingers tracing the newly painted walls as she made her way to the back door. She cringed at the thought of seeing anyone else in the shop, especially any of the night guards that Tristan had placed outside the building.
Turning the door handle, she held her breath and peeked outside. Samantha paced away from her, deeper into the alley. Tristan’s people always paced. It was sloppy, but it made it so much easier for her to get in and out undetected that she never said a thing.
Lila darted around to the mouth of the alley while Samantha’s back was turned, her Colt jutting from her hip and creating the familiar bulge that would keep everyone she met away. But the street was empty in the hours before dawn, too early for the workborn and too late for criminals and drunkards.
She crept into the parking garage, thankful her sedan had not been vandalized or stolen, and hopped inside. The ride home would give her enough time to wipe the silly grin off her face and think.
Tristan certainly wanted to be more than friends.
She did too. She wasn’t content with what had happened. She wanted more. Lots more.
She’d been worried about that. Getting too attached was a dangerous line to toe among highborn, a line Tristan had no experience navigating, a line Tristan wouldn’t respect.
Frowning, she pulled into the compound, ignoring Sergeant Nolan’s raised eyebrow, and parked in the garage. She slipped back upstairs, checking for bugs in her room. Then she turned on her desktop computer and pulled up the rest of Natalie’s accounts, prepared to complete her research before she met with her father.
She managed to find a great deal in a few hours now that she’d been laid good and proper, now that she didn’t have Tristan beside her, distracted by his grin, his smell, his little sighs, his lips, his cock.
Racing through every new contact she found, she tossed out anyone who turned out to be a highborn. Natalie wouldn’t bother partnering with a highborn crony. None would aid her, for the ensuing scandal of stealing and selling Oskar might cost the entire family its highborn status.
And the one who lost it for them?
Their body would never be found.
Lila rubbed her chin. What if a Randolph had helped Natalie?
Gods, she didn’t want to think about what would happen once the chairwoman found out. The punishment wouldn’t go through Lila and the security office, that was for damn sure, and Lila wouldn’t say a word against it.
No, a highborn wouldn’t risk her matron’s wrath—not anyone in the good graces of their family, anyway. The culprit might be a disgraced highborn, though, or perhaps another in the city who wouldn’t mind getting back at the Holguíns.
Someone like Tristan, if he’d gone into crime rather than crusading.
As she composed her list, she rated both types as equally likely to harbor Natalie, adding every property they owned, including those they’d bought or rented using fake accounts.
Once she finished her work, she had nearly a hundred properties from two dozen people.
Lila rubbed her eyes and ran through the list once more, shuffling it until she had a list of the ten likeliest properties. Picking up her palm, she typed out a message to Tristan. They’d check them out together after she had breakfast with her father.
It was too late for a workout, so she hopped into the shower, tossed some unmarked clothes into a satchel, and dressed in the same clothes she’d worn to have breakfast with her father two days before. She wondered if he’d even notice.
Probably not.
Lila arrived at Falcon Home ten minutes early, just in time to witness Marie Masson, the youngest sister of Chairwoman Masson, slip out of her father’s apartment, a last giggle still in her throat as he kissed him goodbye. She’d worn a thin burgundy dress and black boots, a color to honor her lover, rather than her family.
“Chief Randolph.” Ms. Masson laughed, giving Lila a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How are you this morning?”
“Well, and you?”
“Well, but I fear you are fibbing. You look tired, child. You must get more sleep.” Ms. Masson stroked Lila’s cheek. “Henri, look at her? Such pale skin! See that she gets more rest. It does no good for the Randolph prime to burn herself out before she’s turned thirty.”
Lila gritted her teeth but did not correct her. Ms. Masson was a silly woman, but very sweet. You couldn’t help but love her, and her concern was genuine.
Because of that, Lila had always been secretly pleased at the match between Ms. Masson and her father. He needed someone light and joyful in his life, someone both silly and sweet. While her mother was her father’s best friend and soul mate, Ms. Masson was more of a playmate. Always had been. Always