Rox wondered at it, chewing over why Maxence rated a security team while Arthur and Cash did not, and that odd conversation among the men that first day popped up in her head again.
Maxence had “dynastic problems.”
Cash had escaped his.
Arthur seemed less concerned.
Rox worried at the concept of “dynastic problems” like a ferret that had found an odd smell to obsess over while the guys talked sports. College football season was in full swing, but they seemed more concerned with the rugby international World Cup. Arthur was being very modest in the discussion, and Maxence, flippant. Rox figured that England was a powerhouse, the Netherlands were in the middle, and Monaco had a weak team.
They flew for a little over an hour, a silver wasp darting through the night sky, and landed in the middle of a splash of city lights.
Inside a small, private terminal with no security station that Rox could see, a man was waiting for them, dressed in a night-black suit only a few shades darker than his skin. Unusual bulges near his armpits hindered his arms.
He watched them and noted each of them, especially the six men who had surrounded Maxence as they had entered the terminal. Maxence’s security men focused on the man and tightened into a defensive position.
The man in the black suit approached them, his back ramrod straight as if he were ex-military. “Gentlemen, I am Jeffrey Jackson. I was sent to escort you this evening.”
One of Maxence’s men moved forward. He was the smallest of the six of them and more wiry than stacked. “Hugo Faure. We spoke on the phone.” His accent sounded like a Frenchy kind of Italian.
“Ah,” Mr. Jackson said, shaking Faure’s hand and looking straight at him. “Very pleased to meet you, sir.”
Hugo Faure nodded. “And you as well, sir.”
It was kind of weird that they were sir-sirring each other, and Rox got the impression that something military was passing between them.
Cash stepped forward with his hand out. “I’m Casimir van Amsberg. This is Rox, Arthur, and Maxence.” He nodded to each as he introduced them.
Mr. Jackson shook Cash’s hand and nodded at each. “This way.”
Jackson led them to three SUVs that were idling in the parking lot. Maxence waved as his black-suited men cut him out of the herd and bustled him to one of the waiting cars.
The drive through the city was quick, and Cash rested his arm on the back of the seat behind her the whole way. She leaned into him, still wondering what she had gotten herself into.
They arrived at a big, white building that looked like a Southern plantation mansion straight out of Gone with the Wind.
Rox whispered to Cash, “I thought this was a—”
He squeezed her hand, and Rox shut up, even though she was pretty sure that Mr. Jackson knew what the place was, too.
The SUVs let them off at the front door, where upward-facing floodlights lit the columns, windows, and ornate trim.
Mr. Jackson emerged from the driver’s seat and tossed the keys to another black-suited man as he walked around the front of the vehicle, who then drove off in the SUV and left them at the door.
Rox rubbed her arms in the chilly night air and turned back to the front door.
Another man was standing in the open doorway, lit from the interior lights behind him and the floodlights outside. He was very tall, probably six-four again, just like Cash and his school buddies. The new guy wore a dark blue suit, just like they all had a penchant for dark suits, but he was pale blond. His hair looked pale gold in the sharp downward-shining lights, and when he looked up at her, his eyes were startling, so dark blue that their blueness verged on violet when he glanced away from her to look at Arthur on the other side of Cash.
There was no kindness in the blond man’s eyes when he had looked at her, just calculation. Rox edged closer to Cash, half-hiding behind him.
Cash walked more quickly down the white hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick blue carpet under Rox’s feet, and he held out his hand as he approached. “Hello!”
No name, Rox noted. Usually, Cash led with people’s names because he remembered them all.
The blond man took a few steps toward them, hand extended. Even his smile was so cold that Rox’s skin prickled in goosebumps. Not a whit of warmth reached his eyes.
“Casimir,” he said and shook Cash’s hand. He touched his own cheek, the mirror of the side of his face where Cash still had a white bandage taped over his cheek. “Everything all right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Cash said. “No problem.”
He nodded and turned to the other two guys. “Arthur, Maxence. Pleasure to see you after so long.”
“Yes, it’s been far too long,” Arthur said, a grin widening his mouth. “Weeks, at least.”