Page 57 of Emerald

Dom is enthralled by Sloane’s narration. He’s laughing and egging her on during the part about her escape from OUR compound. I don’t know if I love or hate the fact that my brother likes Sloane, too. I guess it’s a good thing. He’s a better judge of character than I am, generally speaking.

I have to admit, I’m glad she’s back. Extremely glad. More than I want to admit to myself. I’m trying not to show it on my face, but I think I might be smiling too. Not as much as Dom, but a lot more than usual.

“So anyway,” Sloane says, finishing her tale, “after I grabbed some cash and guns from a cache I had in Bronevaya, I figured I should come back here. Since we now have a mutual enemy, and I have some ideas of what to do about it.”

“What makes you think we need your help?” I ask Sloane rudely. It annoys me that she might only have come back here for practical reasons.

“Well,” Sloane says, not rising to the bait, “I thought we could go to my broker’s house together.”

That surprises me.

“What for?” I ask.

“Remizov knew where I lived,” Sloane says, patiently. “I assume he got that information through Zima. Which means that Zima probably has the same information about Remizov.”

Huh. Not an outrageous conclusion.

“Alright,” I say. “We can do that.”

“Alright,” Sloane says, imitating me, but with a ludicrously curmudgeonly tone. “I guess I can accompany you on your brilliant lead. If I’m not too busy being stoic.”

Dom snorts, then stops when he sees my expression. Sloane just leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

Goddamnit. She was only manageable when she thought I might murder her.

“So?” Sloane says to me.

“So what?”

“Did you get the guns back?”

Now it’s my turn to tell her everything that happened this afternoon.

I start out with the basic facts, but I can’t help becoming more animated in response to the expression of delight on Sloane’s face. She wants every last detail.

When I finish, her face is glowing with delight. She’s impressed.

“I knew the warehouse was a trap!” she says. “I hope he’s so pissed about the money. We’ve really got this fucker on the ropes.”

I like the way she says “we.”

“I wouldn’t say he’s on the ropes just yet,” I say, “but I’m sure he’s plenty mad.”

“Ha! Good,” Sloane says, taking another bite of bread and washing it down with a gulp of beer.

“So, when do you want to go to Zima’s house?” I ask her.

“Why not right now?” she says, pushing away her bowl of pasta. The food has reenergized her. You would never guess that she spent her entire day running for her life.

“Why don’t you take a shower first,” I tell her.

She looks down, having completely forgotten the state of herself.

“Ah, right,” she says.

She stands up from the table.

I’m wondering if I should follow her or not.

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