“He’s twenty-five, and Beaulac is only one step below New Bristol.”
“It’s still one step below. He’s not working hard enough if he’s still in Beaulac at his age.”
“Is that all you have against him?”
“His eyes are weird. They’re the color of snot. I’m torn between feeling glad that the fool is not anywhere near you and irritated that he left you alone so early in the morning. Why in the world would he do that? What possible excuse could the boy have?”
“The boy? A moment ago he was old. He had work, Father.”
“Work? What sort of work could possibly be more important than his lover’s bed?”
“A minute ago he was lazy for being stuck in Beaulac, now he’s too focused on work?”
Lemaire shrugged.
“Father, do you really want to talk about Senator La Roux right now?”
“No, not in the slightest.”
She smiled at his grumpiness, not wanting to spoil his fun for a few more hours, not wanting to talk about the asshole in that way again. “This might make you happier. I’ve found that spider you sent me to find a month ago.”
Lemaire sat up. “That’s good. It’s a weight off my shoulders. The chief’s too.”
“Yes, well, the chief and I will speak very soon. I just need time to do a little more research. Don’t message my palm. It’s bugged. I’ll send you details for my temp palm soon.”
Her father frowned, clearly not happy at that development.
“I know what you’re going to say, but I’m leaving it for now. I might be able to turn it to my advantage, perhaps more than I already have.”
It was that thought that forced Lila to wonder again about La Roux’s palm. Everything on it must have been bait, carefully designed to put her at ease, just like his words.
Just like Dubois’s introduction, no doubt. She wondered again if La Roux had partnered with his cousin, if Dubois knew his cousin’s true nature.
She’d thought Patrick Wilson was a pretty fool once. Perhaps Dubois had tricked her too.
Perhaps he wasn’t ready to let go of his career.
Lemaire rubbed his nose and sighed. “You really are playing games, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Father. Yes, I am.”
Chapter 22
Lila powered down her laptop and slipped it into her satchel, glad that Pax was too busy at Randolph General to question why she’d spent her entire morning working in the converted nursery. After she’d returned from the security office, she’d eaten breakfast at his book-laden table and dug through piles of data, receiving quite a few confused looks from Isabel and Alex.
Luckily, Jewel and her mother had left for Wolf Tower before anyone could tell them of her strange behavior.
At eleven, Lila hopped up from Pax’s massive leather chair and ventured into her bedroom. She quietly dressed and hid her laptop in her closet’s secret compartment, exchanging her black trousers for crimson ones and a matching red leather coat. Though overly fussy, it brushed her calves and mimicked the cut of her blackcoat. As she twirled in the mirror, she knew she’d have several more made up in white when she took over as prime. It seemed like such a small thing, but she welcomed the familiar pull of so much leather. Perhaps she needed it.
The boots she’d been wearing all morning suited her too. They were comfortable and practical. With only a slight heel, she nearly felt like she had donned her militia boots for the day, gone to patrol in some far-off section of the estate. The only thing that annoyed her was that she hadn’t been able to slip her boot knife inside.
That would have to be amended. It wasn’t just the lack of a boot knife that bothered her; she felt naked without the weight of her Colt on her hip, without her short sword wobbling on the other. She still owned them, but she wouldn’t be allowed to wear them as heir, not even on the family estate. It wasn’t illegal for non-militia members to carry weapons; it was just unseemly for an heir to do so, even to defend her own life.
After all, there were blackcoats for that.
Perhaps that would be her first act of rebellion. Fuck tradition. Too many people wanted her dead lately to go around without a weapon, and one of them was still on the loose.
Lila put that thought o