Page 40 of Payback

The limo drove through the dark passageway under the stores that led to the multistory parking garage. As it ascended the ramps to street level, I wrapped an arm around Henry’s broad shoulder.

“How old is your cousin?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“And how long has your dad compared you to him?”

With a weary breath, Henry shook his head and gazed out of the window. The limo exited into the still-bright evening, where shoppers and tourists still occupied the streets.

“For as long as I can remember. It doesn’t matter what I do, Jonas will always be better.”

“Of course he’ll be better,” I said.

Straightening, he turned to me with pained eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He’s thirteen years older than you. When you got kidnapped at ten, I’ll bet your father said Jonas would never have gotten snatched. He would have been twenty-three, then. That’s hardly a fair comparison.”

His shoulders drooped. “You sound like Mother.”

“Because she’s right.” I twisted in my seat and grabbed Henry’s forearms with both hands. “If you want your father to stop talking shit about you, stand up to him.”

“I will.”

“Should we turn the limo around?” I asked.

Henry shook his head. “Give me some time.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. If I thought a single conversation could undo years of his father’s brainwashing, maybe I was as deluded as Aunt Idette had said. If Henry’s mother couldn’t do it after years of trying, I didn’t have a chance.

“Let’s go back to the academy. I think we’d both sleep better with Blake and Edward.”

* * *

By the time we reached Elder House and climbed up the stairs to Edward’s room, it was empty. We walked down to his study, opened the door, and stepped into a cloud of cigar smoke mingled with the fruity, caramelized scent of Armagnac.

Edward lay on the Chesterfield sofa with a newspaper over his head. Blake sat on the floor with his back propped on the sofa, legs sprawled over the Persian rug. At his sides lay two open laptops.

“Guys?” I said.

Blake blinked his eyes open. “Emilia, you’re looking well, but what are you doing back so soon?”

“It’s a long story.” Henry pulled Blake to his feet.

“Did you have any trouble in London?” Blake stretched and yawned. His shirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his dark treasure trail.

“You could say that.” Wrapping my arms around Blake’s middle, I pressed my lips on the juncture of his neck and shoulders. I inhaled Blake’s cedar and spice scent and sighed. “What have you been researching?”

“Something Father mentioned.” Edward pushed his newspaper to one side and sat up. “Rudolph Trommel went to great lengths to stop his former wife from publishing a memoir featuring him, but back then, he had no ties to England.”

I bit down on my lip. “He owns at least one paper here, even if it’s through a shell company.”

Edward swung his legs off the sofa and onto the Persian rug. “I don’t think we can rely on Charlotte’s exposé even reaching the press.”

“You think he’ll block it?” I asked.

“More like bribe the paper not to release that article,” said Blake.

Edward drew a hand through his mahogany hair. “He might even have blackmail material against the owners of all the major papers in the UK.”