Grace stared at him, knowing his eyes were wide and limpid but unable to help himself. “Thank you,” he rasped, before downing the pills. He gave Hunter one last glance before pulling himself back into the game. Inscrutable man. “He’s tired,” Grace said again to the suddenly quiet room. “He’s been doing this for months, Tabby said—and like I told him, we’ve seen it. I thought he was just… getting older, but the travel’s been wearing on him, and he… he needs to not have this on his shoulders.”
Everyone in the room nodded, and then Josh said, “How are your feet, by the way?” He glared at Lucius. “You ran the fuck out of everyone here in this room. Besides Hunter.”
Grace scowled. “Do you know he has Kevlar in those super slick leather coats? They weigh as much as you!”
Josh blinked. “I sincerely doubt it.” But Josh was looking wafer thin these days, so Grace was pretty sure.
“I don’t,” Hunter rumbled, barely loud enough for Grace to hear, and Grace flashed him a grin, because apparently there was a Team Hunter and Grace now, and Grace was sort of all for that shit.
“Back to the matter at hand,” Julia steered gently. “Although, Josh, you do need to eat. So, our plan now is what? We drop the item off again, see what it is and who picks it up, and formulate a course of action then?”
“Yes,” Danny said. “Except, Stirling, do you have a little wrinkle to add?”
“Sure do, Uncle Danny,” Stirling said, lighting up when Danny gave him attention. They all did that. Felix was a good dad—steadfast, kind, firm if you needed it—and Grace had always adored him. But Danny was the fun uncle, and his attention was like a sunshiny blessing. Stirling, who was so much happier in his own head until he looked up and realized he was missing human contact, seemed to gravitate toward that sunshine unconsciously, like a shy, brilliant cephalopod who only sought out company if it made his skin happy.
In this case, Stirling didn’t just light up, he inked like an octopus, producing a little baggie with something in it so tiny and clear that Grace—who had amazing vision—couldn’t see it from across the dimmed hotel room.
“Why are there no lights?” he asked suddenly.
“Because this room is supposed to be vacant,” Josh said. “We sort of hacked the room so nobody would know you guys had a tail.”
“So no room service?” Lucius said, sounding disappointed.
“Oh, darling—we didn’t say that.” Julia pulled out her phone. “Give us your order, people. I’ll have it delivered to mine and Molly’s room next door. They’ll text when they arrive at the hotel.”
“And that,” Danny said, “would be our cue to log off. Stirling, Josh, send us information as soon as you get it. We truly wish we were there.”
Felix gave an exasperated growl behind them, and then their screen went dark. Grace had a feeling that Felix was perfectly happy, this once, to have the house to himself and the man he was—for all intents and purposes—honeymooning with after a ten-year separation.
Artur slipped back in while people were ordering Thai food, and he gave Grace a tired smile. “I suppose our dinner plans are no longer valid.”
“Only for tonight, Dance Master,” Grace said apologetically, “but we can still do the super fancy place tomorrow. I packed!”
“We shopped!” Molly added. “I say we definitely rock the fancy restaurant.”
To Grace’s relief, Artur’s expression lightened, and for a moment, Grace saw the kindly gentleman who had begged him to take care of himself when Grace had been so very self-destructive.
“Well, then,” he said, “let’s enjoy eating in tonight, shall we?”
He handed Grace the package before sinking down tiredly into the overstuffed chair Broadstone had vacated, his eyes closing almost of their own volition. He probably would have slept an extra hour or so if his nap hadn’t been interrupted by two thieves fighting, and Grace left him alone. All of the noise, the people, the new situation—it would have taken a toll on the older man.
So instead of spending his energy lifting Artur’s spirits, he concentrated on the brightly flowered little gift bag. The flowers and paper were mostly yellow, with a little red mixed in, but Grace was more interested in the weighted object in the middle.
“Pad thai for you, Grace?” Josh said over the thrumming in Grace’s blood.
“Hot for white people,” Grace told him absently. People assumed because he was Asian, he could take the super spicy native seasoning. Nope. Grace had been raised on cheeseburgers and spaghetti—and caviar and filet mignon.
“I know that. You want chicken satay too?”
Grace glanced up at Josh from the seductive puzzle of how to break into a gift bag undetected, and gave him an absent smile. “With yo—”
“And yogurt instead of peanut sauce. Got it.”
Grace nodded and turned back to the bag, noting the way it had crushed slightly in the plane.
“What are you thinking?” Hunter asked.
“I’m thinking that the paper shreds have gotten pretty compact around the box,” Grace said, closing his eyes and running his fingers along the almost-lumpy exterior. “If we go diving inside, we’re going to disrupt that. And note that the paper is sort of bent along the lumps—but the package is still at the bottom.” He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a tiny case that had cunning little blades and some colorless, odorless adhesive.
“You… you slept with that in your sleeve?” Hunter asked, sounding surprised.
“You walk around wearing Kevlar?” Grace mimicked and then ignored him.
“Fair,” Hunter muttered, but Grace was busy. He took the finest knife and sliced through the glue holding the bottom together, then peeled away the paper and extracted the champagne-colored five-by-five-inch box underneath.
Julia finished giving the food order and said, “Molly, darling, could you be a dear and go wait for the order in our room? I’m afraid you’re on for carting everything over.”
Molly huffed, and Stirling arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m still monitoring coms in everyone’s rooms. Don’t look at me.”
“I’ll do it,” Josh said, casting an inscrutable look over at Grace and Hunter. “Broadstone, you’re with us.”
“Now wait a minute,” Broadstone said. “Just because you’re—”
“Not reporting you to the police and subsidizing your charity and trying to figure out who’s stealing your tech when it’s mostly developed but hasn’t been announced yet and trying to save your company?” Josh snapped. “Because we’re doing all that, you’re goddamned right I get to tell you what to do. Your henchman—”
“Shot at Grace,” Broadstone finished in defeat. “Got it. Indentured servitude until that debt is worked off.”
“Damned straight. Now shut up and come with me.”
“Can I take the wig off?” Molly asked plaintively, and Julia gave her an apologetic headshake. “Not until we’re in bed for the night or you have another person to be. You don the wig, that person has to answer the door until the job’s over.”