“Good for him.” Cheyenne lifted her chin at the operative and clenched her teeth.
Rhynehart leaned a little closer. “You made things harder than they had to be, halfling. Pulling a stunt like that.”
“Which stunt? The one where I protected my identity and my mom’s by scrambling the pingback on that stupid phone you gave me? Or the one where I knocked you on your ass again? Don’t tempt me a third time.”
His nostrils flared, but he kept his hands clasped behind his back. “We came here to talk. That’s it.”
“Right. With a caravan of three SUVs. All the way out here for a friendly chat. That makes a hell of a lot of sense.”
Rhynehart grunted and gestured down the stairs toward the other operatives collecting themselves, one guy being helped to an SUV while clutching his back. “None of these men are armed, halfling. Does it look like we’re here to do anything else?”
Cheyenne raised her eyebrows. “Does it look like I care?”
He huffed out a breath through his nose and studied her gaze. “No. It doesn’t. It also doesn’t change that we’re here or that we’ve been invited inside. So let’s go.”
Without waiting for her to reply, Rhynehart stepped past her and headed into the house, Parker on his heels. The drow halfling gazed at the train of black SUVs, and the FRoE operatives shot her dirty looks mixed with apprehension. She strode inside and didn’t care that she broke one of Bianca’s longstanding rules in this house—no slamming doors.
I believe I broke the rule about attacking unannounced guests at the front door, too. If that was a rule. But I don’t live here anymore.
Rhynehart and Parker stood in the foyer, gazing at the high vaulted ceiling and the intricately carved banister of the enormous winding staircase up to the second floor. There was no sign of Bianca and Sir.
On the halfling’s right, Eleanor cleared her throat. “Follow me, please.”
The woman was clearly speaking to the men standing in the foyer, but when Eleanor headed toward them to lead the way, she shot Cheyenne a wide-eyed glance that asked, “Why are they here, and what do they want?”
Rhynehart and Parker followed the housekeeper through the formal living room and past the open French doors to Bianca’s study. Cheyenne caught Rhynehart stealing a glance inside, and she remembered the copper puzzle box sitting on the edge of her mom’s desk. If he saw it, he didn’t react. He kept gazing around the extensive house as Eleanor led them toward the glass doors that opened onto the veranda.
They passed the dining room table and the winding staircase with a panoramic view of the open space behind the Summerlin home. It was already set for three, steam rising off platters of baked chicken, roasted asparagus, fingerling potatoes, and a large bowl of dressed salad. Cheyenne’s heart sank, if only because Eleanor had been excited to serve a nice dinner.
We’re gonna have to wait a while for that.
Sir and Bianca were out on the veranda with a good three yards between them. Cheyenne’s mom was half-turned toward the open doors, waiting for everyone else to join them. Sir had his hands wrapped around the rail at the edge of the space as he peered out over the wide valley and the gorgeous view.
“Thank you, Eleanor,” Bianca said with a curt nod.
Sir removed his hands and turned around to see the housekeeper, two of his men, and the drow halfling joining them.
“Will there be anything else?”
“Yes. Bring out the good Scotch, please. And five glasses.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The housekeeper left to tend to her task.
The good Scotch, huh? We’re gonna be here a while.
Sir watched Eleanor disappear inside, and through the long wall of windows, he noticed the set table in the dining room. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything, Ms. Summerlin.”
Bianca shot him a quick glance, then looked out over the valley. “You are. But everything else can wait. I couldn’t very well turn you away from my doorstep after you made the trip all the way out here.”
“And that is very much appreciated. Should we sit?” Sir gestured toward the table.
“We’ll wait for the drinks. Then yes. We can sit.”
Sir blinked at her and bowed his head to hide an amused smile. Rhynehart turned away, presumably to hide his own smile and make it seem like he was studying the rest of the veranda.
Cheyenne stood outside the doors and crossed her arms. She had no problem watching everyone’s reaction.
Mom’s pulling rank. I didn’t think Sir had it in him to take a jab like that and let her call the shots. At least he knows how things work.
The veranda remained tense and silent, and nobody moved until Eleanor bustled outside with another silver tray. This one carried a bottle of the Glenmorangie single malt Bianca reserved for special occasions. Most of the time, that was when a particularly esteemed client or colleague called.
Eleanor set the tray on the wrought-iron patio table, then swiftly headed back inside. She pulled both glass doors shut, and the veranda beneath so much fresh air and a clear evening sky was transformed into a private meeting between two people Cheyenne definitely didn’t want to be in the same room with at the same time.
Bianca gestured toward the patio table. “Now we can sit.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Two of the glasses remained untouched on the tray in the center of the table, since Rhynehart and Parker had declined drinks after Bianca had poured. They’d also politely declined to take seats. Cheyenne wouldn’t have been surprised if she found herself unable to breathe under all this open sky and sitting so near the intense staring contest between Sir and her mother.
She lifted her glass of Scotch to her lips and took a gentle sip. Her eyes never left Sir’s face. “Before we begin,” Bianca said, “I’d like to ask a question you may not have
