Chapter 14

On her thirdpass down Battery Park Avenue, Kayla sent up a Thank You, Jesus! when she spotted a blue Subaru backing out of a prime parking spot outside Hemingway’s Cuba restaurant.

She could have gone to the parking garage off Otis Street, but that would’ve tacked on another ten minutes. Plus, the garage was right across the street from the federal building, where the FBI’s Resident Agency offices were located.

Who knew if Ash was inside, but the last thing she needed was for him to glance out a window and catch her walking across the street. Alone.

Another wave of guilt filled her chest at having to conceal her activities from her team, especially Natalie and Mason. Natalie, along with Liv, had been her confidante since college. Her friendship with Mason was more recent, but she trusted him with her life.

There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for them, and they for her. But she needed to get a handle on what was going on without worrying about her friends becoming collateral damage.

She entered the restaurant and made her way to Hemingway’s popular rooftop patio. The hostess on duty smiled at Kayla as she approached.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Krowne. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you, Aleta.”

The hostess didn’t need to escort Kayla to her party. She knew the way well. Nearing the familiar table, she noticed she was the last one to arrive. Not a complete surprise, given the machinations it had taken to get here.

Kayla never understood people who ascribed to the fashionably late mindset. Somehow those people had convinced themselves that being the last to arrive gave them a boost of power over the lesser, on-time mortals present.

Their inflated egos blinded them to the fact that the real power resided in the quiet one-on-one conversations of the early arrivals. Many plans had been cemented and much awareness had been seeded before a dinner or party ever started.

Being heard, being understood—that was power.

Not being seen.

Jillian’s gaze locked on hers, and the conversation at the table halted. Unease put a hitch in her purposeful stride, and her mother’s spine slowly straightened, as did her aunties’.

No one smiled. No one stood for their normal requisite hug.

Tension crackled in the air, like a bolt of summer lightning.

A distant part of her mind noted they each wore black, though Elsie, being Elsie, added a splash of color to her mourning outfit with a chunky, multicolored necklace.

Kayla slid into the open chair next to Jillian. “Apologies for my tardiness. I had to do a bit of a dance to elude my protectors.”

Sybil waved off her excuse. “Never mind that.” Her dark midnight eyes clasped Kayla’s in an unbreakable hold. “We have a problem.”

Kayla breathed in a steadying breath, while she smoothed a linen napkin over her lap. “I’m listening.”