Chapter 1086
Alistair’s hand moved almost imperceptibly toward his waistband. “Come in.”
The door opened. A young woman stepped inside carrying a massive fruit basket. She looked nothing like the polished sharks of Sea City — frizzy hair, glasses slightly too large for her face, an air of cheerful obliviousness that filled the room like warm air.
“Um, hi?” she squeaked. “I’m Chloe. Mr. Cain’s assistant?”
The room went ice cold.
“Mr. Cain sent me,” Chloe continued, apparently unaware of the tension radiating from every corner. “He heard about the boating accident. He was so worried. He wanted to invite you to dinner.”
Alistair and Skye exchanged a look. The boating accident. Their cover story.
“Dinner?” Skye asked.
“Yes! Tonight. At his estate. He wants to offer his support. He thinks the city needs to do more to protect its business leaders.”
It was a trap. A brazen, arrogant trap. Cain knew they had Lucian. He likely knew they had the chip. He was inviting them into the lion’s den to see if they would bite.
“That’s very kind of him,” Alistair said, his voice smooth as silk. “We would be delighted.”
Chloe beamed. “Great! I’ll let him know. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late!”
She set the basket down and scurried out.
The moment the door clicked shut, Lucian threw back the covers and tried to swing his legs off the bed. “I’m coming.”
“You are staying right there,” Skye said firmly. “You can’t walk.”
“I can limp aggressively,” Lucian argued.
“No,” Alistair said. “Skye and I will go. We need to look him in the eye — and if Felix can get within range of Cain’s personal server, we might be able to steal the rolling key.”
“He wants you dead,” Lucian said.
“Then he’ll have to try harder than a fruit basket,” Skye said, reaching into the basket and lifting out an apple. It was a Red Delicious. It looked poisonous.
Marcus Cain’s estate was a sprawling mansion in the hills, overlooking the city he intended to own.
Alistair and Skye arrived in an armored sedan. Skye wore a backless emerald gown that concealed the bruise on her arm from the transfusion. Alistair was in a tuxedo — lethal and elegant in equal measure. Felix was parked in a van outside, monitoring their comms.
They were ushered into the dining room. It was dimly lit, a long table set for three.
Marcus Cain rose as they entered. He was a handsome man in his fifties, silver-haired, with a smile that stopped well short of his eyes.
“Skye. Alistair. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Skye said, taking the seat opposite him.
“I hear you had a rough week,” Marcus said, pouring the wine. “Accidents happen so frequently these days. Sea City is becoming dangerous.”
“Only for people who get in the way of ambition,” Alistair said, sipping his water. He left the wine untouched.