"A regular saint," I said.
"You've been Little Miss Robin Hood for a long time now," Iver said, looking up from his phone. "Have you ever conned any honest people?"
"Once," I said, Silas' image flashing in my mind. “A long time ago.”
After all, love was the ultimate con, wasn't it?
“Sorry I missed the fight, man,” Abel said. He sat at the table in the bar, one leg in a cast. “I heard it was an epic one.”
“Hell,” I said. “You’re apologizing for Coker running you down? Are you kidding me?”
He laughed. “No. There's no way I’m apologizing for that. I'm just sorry for missing your comeback. I mean, if it had been me you were fighting, you’d have just been embarrassed, because you'd have gotten the shit kicked out of you.”
I held up my beer glass. “Well, cheers to the fact that I got to kick Rush’s ass, then. Instead of getting my ass kicked.”
“Cheers to that,” Trigg said. He stood. “Now, drink up. Stacey’s only working until ten, and until then, beer’s free.”
I gulped down the last few swallows, and pulled Abel’s glass from his hand, giving it to Trigg. “There you go.”
A hand slapped my back hard, and I spun around? expecting to have to knock the shit out of someone. Instead, I came face to face with an older man in a grey pullover sweater, a cane in one hand.
“You’re that fighter,” he said. “I watched you at the fight the other night. You were quite remarkable.”
This little old man was watching amateur fights? The look of disbelief must have registered on my face, because he chuckled.
“Oh, now, even an old man like me has to have some hobbies,” he said. “Betting on fights just happens to be one of mine. And you won me ten grand.”
I whistled. “Congratulations.” Must be nice, I thought. Ten grand was more than the purse for the fight.
“Well, now,” he said. “If you gentlemen would be so inclined, there’s a bar upstairs on the top floor that is reserved solely for the suites. Your drinks are on me. Whatever you would like. The sky’s the limit.”
I was just opening my mouth to decline - a couple of cheap beers was just fine with me - when Trigg ambled up beside me. “Free drinks in the penthouse bar?” he asked. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But we’re just drinking beer in the bar down here with the other commoners.”
The old man chuckled. “Well, if you change your mind,” he said. He handed me a card. “You’ll need this key card to access the upper floors.”
Wordlessly, he turned and ambled away.
Trigg snatched the card from my hand. “Well, boys,” he said. “Tonight we get to drink like the rich folks do. Silas, that includes you."
Iver handed me a glass of champagne. "To another job well done," he said, raising his glass. "Where is Oscar, anyway?"
As if on cue, the door to the suite opened, and Oscar ambled inside. "I'm here," he said. "I was just getting some fresh air."
Emir handed him a glass. "The money is set up in accounts that the family will be able to access under the radar of any government entity. Minus our shares, of course."
Iver nodded. "I'll deliver the news to Deborah."
I sighed. "What's next, boys?"
Iver shrugged. "The south of France is nice this time of year."
"Emir?" I asked.
"I have a flight out of town tomorrow," he said. "There's a comic convention, and a new video game I've been dying to hole up for a week with."
"And you, Oscar?" I asked. "Far flung travel plans?"
"Oh, you know," he said. "An old man like me, I'm not chasing models and yachting anymore."
Iver chuckled. "Don't let him tell you stories, Ariana," he said, calling me by my grifter alias. "Oscar's got more life left in his pinkie than the rest of us do in our entire bodies. What are you really up to, old man?"
Oscar laughed. "I think I'm going to spend a month in Rome," he said.
Iver sighed. "There was this Italian girl once..."
Emir held up his hand. "The rest of us mere mortals don't need to hear about your escapades with models and heiresses."
Iver's eyes twinkled. "Speaking of heiresses, there's a shipping magnate's daughter I really should check up on."
Emir grimaced. "Don't you ever get tired of being a man whore?" he asked.
Iver grinned. "I don't understand the question," he said, turning to me. "Does the question make any sense to you?"
I laughed. "Boys, stop your bickering."
"What are your plans for your time off, Ariana?" Oscar asked. "Are you leaving it up to fate?"
After a job, I usually headed to the airport with no luggage and no plans, to take whatever flight was available that suited my fancy. I guess I could throw a dart at a map or something, really leave it up to fate to decide. And maybe I would do that, sometime in the future. But this time, I was going back to Colorado. My grandmother was still there. It had been almost a year since I'd sneaked back to see her, and that was long enough.