Chapter 9: Two Million

I took a cab to The Chisholm at eight in the morning with Cian's cold coffee in my hand.

The key card from the gray jacket still worked.

I could hear them before the penthouse elevator opened.

"You left her building at two in the morning through the FRONT DOOR."

"There's only one door, Ewan! It's a laundromat!"

"Then you climb out a window."

"It's the third floor!"

The doors slid apart.

All four of them were in the penthouse living room, the one with the glass wall and the view of the whole Strip.

Ewan was standing by the window in his shirtsleeves, watch on his right wrist.

Cian was on the sofa in last night's trousers and a T-shirt, unshaven, his hair sticking up.

Bram was leaning on the bar with his arms folded.

Fenn was in the armchair in a rumpled gray suit, glasses back on, looking like he hadn't slept.

They all turned and saw me.

Cian sat up fast. "Hey. Hi. You got my coffee."

"It was cold."

"It was hot at two-fifteen. I came back up. You were asleep with a quilt on your face. I didn't want to wake you."

He looked at his brothers. "And then someone called me and told me I'd ended civilization."

"You did," said Ewan.

I held up my phone with the gossip page on it.

"Who was at the craps table?"

Fenn raised one hand, without looking at me.

"Mother called at one-thirty," he said quietly. "She wanted Wyatt seen at a table. Bram was asleep. Ewan was..."

He glanced at Ewan.

"Busy," Ewan said.

"So she sent me." Fenn pushed his glasses up. "I hate craps. I lost eleven thousand dollars."

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

Fenn's ears went red, and he almost smiled.

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