Knave (Masters of Manhattan)

by Jane Henry

  To say that I regretted what happened the night before was the understatement of maybe the entire millennium. Considering this whole year had fucked with me, right from the beginning, this was saying something. I’d ended up subleasing my Williamsburg place and moving into the kind of pad I’d always sworn I’d avoid. I’d almost become accustomed to the number of zeroes in my bank account. I’d somehow found myself mostly trusting the guys I worked with… hell, counting on them to save my ass, even.

  Caelan, who was fluent in philosophical bullshit, would call this year a journey of personal discovery, or something. I called it dangerous. But nothing, nothing was more dangerous than getting involved with Sabrina Fowler.

  I had no reason to trust her, for one thing. Oh, sure, she looked innocent, with her pale cheeks and her big, blue eyes. And maybe, after seeing how devastated she’d been by the death of the security guard, even I had trouble believing she was involved in his death. But she was Fowler’s daughter, the pampered princess of a guy who dealt with murderers. It was no surprise that her eyes held a wealth of secrets and an instinctive distrust that rivaled my own.

  But what frosted me most was how, even knowing all this, I’d somehow let her slide right through my defenses. In the past, I’d found women who understood and respected my limits. They knew exactly how much of me I’d let them have, and never pushed for more. They were down for the hot rush of physical release, knowing I’d be gone the next morning.

  Sabrina had ignored those limits entirely. She’d made me crave her.

  After spending my childhood watching my mom scratch and claw her way to sobriety, only to relapse, I’d spent my adult life avoiding anything I could become addicted to or grow dependent on—drugs, booze, money, friends. Now Sabrina was standing in front of me, like my every temptation brought to life. I’d known, watching her sleeping on the sofa last night, that if I let myself have a taste of her, it’d make it that much more impossible for me to ever quit her. But I’d gone and done it anyway, and now I needed to deal with the fallout.

  I stopped in the hall bathroom and flipped on the light. Yep. As expected, my hair was a fucking sight to behold. I set my nearly-empty coffee mug on the vanity and wet my palms, trying to tame the mess.

  I caught myself a second later. Since when did I give a shit about my hair? Since when did I think X, Caelan, or Walker would care either? Ethan would care, if only in the sense that he’d mock me relentlessly, but he’d already seen me. I was primping in case Ms. Fowler was at breakfast.

  I scowled at my reflection, deliberately tousled my hair, then rolled my eyes again. Good call, Saint. That’ll show her.

  I was so fucked up over this woman already.

  I stepped back into the hall and headed for the kitchen, but I heard Ethan’s hurried steps behind me just before I crossed the threshold. “You’re sure you wanna go in there?” he mocked. “We could go back and finish our little conversation…”

  “No, thank you,” I snorted. I’d rather deal with Sabrina and whatever morning-after bitterness she was feeling than chat with Ethan about Sabrina. “I’m good.”

  “Suit yourself.” Ethan shrugged as he pushed past me and made his way around the enormous kitchen island. The mischievous grin he tossed over his shoulder made me doubt my choice for half a second.

  The dude was all about mind games.

  I stepped inside and made my way directly to the coffee pot, deliberately not turning my head to see who was sitting at the table. It was enough that I could feel their eyes burning into my back, and that all conversation had ceased.

  I refilled my mug, then took my time doctoring it, before walking across the room like a man heading to the gallows.

  But when I looked up, only Caelan, Walker, Ethan, and Xavier were clustered around the table. Sabrina was nowhere to be found.

  “S’up?” I asked, pulling out a seat across from Walker and Ethan and flopping down.

  From his spot at the end of the table, Caelan pursed his lips like he was trying not to smile and lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

  “What’s up?” Walker mused. “What. Is. Up. It’s an interesting question.” His accent made ‘interesting’ have four distinct syllables. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, myself personally? I have no exciting news to share since the last time we met and realized we are no closer to figuring shit out than we were months ago. But I apologize if I woke anyone last night. I totally forgot how un-soundproofed this place is.” His gaze turned coy. “If you heard someone screaming, ‘Oh, yeah, baby! Just like that!’, it was probably me playing Left4Dead. I just lose my mind when I slay a zombie.” He demonstrated with a high-pitched squeal. “Caelan? Anything you’d like to share?”

  I gave him a sour look and tapped my fingers on the table. Clearly my activities with Sabrina hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  Peachy.

  “Told you that you’d rather deal with me,” Ethan sang under his breath.

  Caelan chuckled softly. “Who, me? Let’s see.” He put his mug down on the table before him, his huge frame hulking as he bent over and leaned on his forearms. “Well, I read for a bit last night. Afraid I might have gotten a little bit loud, myself, but I just couldn’t help it. You know, when you get sucked into a biography of Mary Cassatt, and you just have to scream, ‘Oh, yes! Yes!’” He shrugged innocently. “Can’t control myself with the Impressionists.”

  It was irritating and embarrassing as hell but reminded me these guys were more than just apartment buddies. I’d never had brothers, or even really close friends. I… sort of imagined this is what it might have been like if I had. “You have issues,” I told him.

  “So many!” he agreed cheerfully. “How about you, X? What was making you scream last night?”

  All eyes turned toward Xavier, who sat of the head of the table like the self-appointed chairman of the board. He was, as usual, the only one who held not even a trace of amusement on his face, his chiseled jaw clenched.

  Xavier had a plate of toast in front of him—he favored the kind of bread that tasted like dirty twigs—covered in mashed avocado. He looked up from his plate to give Caelan a raised eyebrow. “Et tu, Caelan? It’s Xavier, not X. Also, not Professor X, not X-rated, not X-Man.” Then he glared at me, like I was the one who’d come up with those, when Walker had been the one to steal my simple nickname and co-opt it into a bajillion different variations. Still, I had to smother my grin with my hand.

  X looked away for a minute, cleaning his perfect hands off with a cloth napkin, then he looked back at me. His eyes burned. “But as to your original question, Caelan, no. I have nothing exciting to report. For example, I definitely wasn’t sleeping with the daughter of a criminal pawn who likely knew the people who murdered my mother.”

  I clenched my fist under the table, digging my short fingernails into my palm. Oh, I hated that fucker so much. There was no brotherhood with Xavier. No friendship. I hated him so much, in that moment, that I wanted to hit him. I could practically feel the blood spurting out of his nose as I clocked him. Didn’t he know, didn’t he have the first clue that the only reason I wasn’t jumping up from this table right now, beating his ass bloody, and taking myself back to Brooklyn, was because I wanted to find out who’d killed my mom?

  Caelan cleared his throat, uncomfortable, and Ethan, ever the peacemaker, said, “For fuck’s sake, Xavier. Lighten up.”

  I took a deep breath, forcing all the emotion from my face, and gave X an unconcerned shrug. “So what if I did? Sabrina didn’t kill my mother. And she’s hot as hell.”

  X shook his head as though I had just confirmed something for him. “I honestly wonder how you’ve made it this far without ending up dead or jailed,” he said, all bored and superior. “You have such a lack of impulse control.”

  “That’s a lie and you know it. Here you sit, you smug asshole, with your pretty face all intact. Every moment you breathe is a testament to my impulse control.”

  Annoyance kindled in his eyes and I add
ed a point to Team Saint on my mental scoreboard.

  “And as to the girl, so what if I fucked her?” I said breezily. “I’ve fucked a lot of people. None of them have meant anything.” Truth.

  “Saint...” Ethan warned, but I ignored him. I already knew it was a dickhead thing to say out loud. I didn’t need him reminding me.

  My gaze didn’t waver from Xavier’s.

  “So then I take it you have no plans to repeat that total lack of discretion?” he said, all smug and smarmy.

  I shrugged. “You know that’s not my style, X. Once and done. That’s my motto.” I sat back, folding my arms across my chest, and smirked.

  “Oh, my God.” A voice from behind me had me turning around in an instant, to find Sabrina standing in the doorway.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  She was wearing last night’s clothes, her hair was a tangled auburn corona around her face, and her glare was fierce enough to pierce a hole in my head. Not a single thing about her should have made my dick perk up, but I couldn’t help it. Her wrinkled clothes reminded me of the way we’d stripped them off her, and her messy hair recalled the way she’d come apart in my arms. Even her pissed-off expression made me want to laugh out loud and take her in my arms at the same time.

  She was nothing but trouble.

  Ethan shrugged at me apologetically. “I did try to warn you,” he mumbled.

  “I thought, when I woke up this morning,” she continued, sashaying toward the table, “that I couldn’t possibly regret what happened more than I already did—letting my grief and fear, along with the copious amounts of alcohol you gave me, impair my judgment. Thank you so much for proving me wrong,” she told me. “But I’m glad the rest of you boys got some vicarious thrills, anyway.” She raised one eyebrow, seeming completely unconcerned that our activities had been overheard. Rather than being ashamed of enjoying herself, she was shaming them for gossiping about it.

  Fuck, the girl had guts. It was sexy as hell.

  And clearly, I wasn’t the only one to notice.

  Caelan jumped up, motioning her to his seat. “Let me grab you some coffee, Ms. Fowler.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you, uh… Caelan, right?”

  He nodded, like a fucking lovesick puppy. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Just black,” she said.

  She smiled at Caelan, but the smile fled her face when she looked to me, and, I was pleased to note, her gaze turned icy when she came to Xavier.

  “Some girl must have broken all your toys on the playground,” she told X. “Otherwise, I can’t imagine where you get your charming attitude towards women. Honestly. Goading Anson into saying things when you knew I was standing there.” She shook her head in mock reproach.

  “I’ve never had any trouble with ladies, Ms. Fowler,” Xavier bit off.

  “Hmm. Really? Just how rich are you, again?” She smiled sweetly.

  Despite everything, I almost snickered. X set his teeth and looked away.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Sabrina said, as Caelan set a mug of coffee in front of her. “I thank you for the hospitality last night.” She took a sip and glanced up at Caelan in surprise. “Mmm. And for the coffee. Did you make this?”

  Caelan shrugged bashfully. “I grind my own beans.”

  I rolled my eyes. God, could he be any more obviously infatuated? It was annoying as fuck.

  “It’s delicious.” She gave him a smile that was warm and genuine, like Caelan had been the one who made her scream his name when she came. “Anyway, gents, I can’t say that this has been the best night I’ve ever had, but it hasn’t been the worst...” She stopped and tilted her head for a second. “Oh. No. Wait. On second thought, it actually was the worst night ever! Huh. And eager as I am to stay and see if we can set a new record tonight, I hate to overstay my welcome.” She sipped her coffee again. “I’m calling a cab.”

  “Bullshit.” I folded my arms over my chest.

  “Uh, no. No, it’s not.” She mimicked my pose and glared at me some more. I’m pretty sure if she had any idea what the pose—accentuating her breasts as it was—and the glare were doing for me, she would have changed her attitude. “What’s bullshit is you assholes keeping me here like I’m either a helpless princess in a castle or a prisoner of war.” She glared at X.

  “I’m so sorry if this life and death situation means you have to cancel your spa day,” X said, bored. “You’re going nowhere.” And even though I sort of agreed with him, I still wanted to kick his ass for talking to her like that.

  “Spa day?” Sabrina spat, looking at X like he was something she might find on the bottom of her shoe. “M’kay. First off, I have a business to run.”

  “Please,” Xavier scoffed, but she talked over him, and I mentally applauded.

  “And second, I don’t need your permission. You’re not the police. You’re not my father.” She swallowed. “You’re not even my friends. So you don’t get an opinion.”

  “I’m the man who holds your life in my hands,” Xavier told her. And that was enough for me.

  Game over.

  “The fuck you are,” I told him. All eyes turned to look at me, but I didn’t back down.

  “Christ Jesus, Daly.” X was back to sounding bored, which I knew was his pissed-off default. “She’s taken you in, hasn’t she?”

  “Not even a little. But I’ll be damned if you think you get to make unilateral decisions, Emperor Malone.” I leaned forward. “I agree that Sabrina needs protection, and that we need some information from her. But I’m not in the business of keeping prisoners. I don’t think any of us are.”

  Caelan shook his head. Walker looked morosely down at the table. And Ethan was, as always, studying every emotion that no doubt showed on my face.

  “Fine then.” X pushed his plate away. He’d barely eaten a bite. “What would you do, Daly?”

  “I’m thinking maybe we ask for her help instead,” I said. But I was looking at Sabrina as I said it. Her eyes flashed with confusion and then pleasure before she shuttered them, and I knew I was on the right track. Maybe Ethan was onto something with all his cunning little observation skills and his tiny manipulations. It was like reconnaissance before a job… But different. Because somehow, everything with Sabrina had become very, very personal.

  “Sabrina, what were you doing at the office last night? Why were you and Curt there?” I asked, cordial and friendly.

  She hesitated, thinking about it, but it seemed like she couldn’t come up with a reason not to tell us. “Curt was there because I’ve known him since I was a kid. I didn’t have a key to my dad’s office, so I went by on a weeknight, when I knew he’d be on duty, and asked him to let me in. And he agreed. I wanted to see the place one last time, and maybe grab a picture from his desk while I was there.”

  “A picture?” Walker frowned. “What kind of picture?”

  “Just one of me and my dad,” she said sadly. “A boring, old picture my dad’s friend took when we were out on his boat when I was a kid, shortly after my mom died. Dad kept a copy on his desk. He used to say it was his reminder of what was important.” Her big eyes met mine across the table, and one corner of her mouth twitched up like she was trying to smile but couldn’t quite get there. “Then again, if everything you said last night was true, then apparently my dad started working with people who actually kill other people, so I’m not sure how much of his advice I can take anymore.”

  She sounded so incredibly bewildered, so fucking alone, that I couldn’t stay silent. “My mom was like that,” I told her. Xavier looked at me with a deep frown on his face, like he wanted to interrupt for getting too personal, but apparently he knew better than to try.

  I didn’t share this shit with anyone. Even the guys only knew the bare bones. But for her… I was apparently going to open a vein. Whatever. It was only words, right?

  “She was a junkie. A heroin addict. The whole time I was growing up.” I rubbed at a sudden ache in the back of my neck. “She
used to work for rich folks, once upon a time, as a maid and sometimes a nanny. But it’s hard to stay employed when you’re an addict. Hard to keep a roof over your head, let alone your kid’s. That’s how I got started in my career, you know?”

  “Your career… breaking into safes.”

  It wasn’t a question, and I wasn’t dumb enough to confirm it. I smiled. “My... special skill set… saved my life. And hers. Kept the rent paid. Kept the heat turned on. But it was weird, growing up that way. Like I had to be the parent, you know? And I couldn’t exactly ask her advice on kid issues, ‘cause she was high as a kite half the time, and spent the other half worrying about how to get her next fix.”

  Beneath the table, I ran my suddenly damp palm over the leg of my jeans, and the coolness of the air registered on my chest. Sweating, Saint? Jesus.

  “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, in between all that, there were a few things she said that did make sense. Like, she’d tell me not to let the bullshit people spout at me bring me down.” I tossed X a sweet smile and he rolled his eyes. “She’d tell me I had the potential to be one of the good guys one day.” This time I rolled my eyes at myself. “She loved me. She did crazy things, but she loved me.”

  “Past tense?” Sabrina whispered.

  I nodded. “Overdose. Supposedly. She got clean for a while off and on, but she never stopped looking to score. Week before they found her, she called and left me a message. Called me her baby boy, told me she was about to land a big one from her boss—a raise, she called it—and she’d be able to take care of me.” I chuckled once, without humor. This part, the guys all knew. We’d all had to share a little bit about the people we’d lost, if only to help us in our investigation, and to spot patterns that might help us get justice. “I shoulda known something was up, but she always lived for the fairy tales, you know? I just figured she’d started sleeping with the guy. Or, better still, that she’d caught him sleeping with someone else and was threatening to tell his wife.” I shrugged. “I still don’t know what the hell she thought she knew about her boss, or even what the guy’s name was. No idea what kind of payday she was looking for. She should have known I would have taken care of anything she needed. But… she didn’t want that. To the end, she wanted to protect me. ‘Cause that’s what parents do.” I cleared my throat again. “So, you know, I get that your dad was a shithead. But not to you. And that matters.”