Page 51 of Disavowed

“’Course not. Happy to help.” When hell freezes over.

“Good.” She slid her arm around Jack’s waist and leaned into him. “It’s settled then.”

When Jack slipped his arm possessively over her shoulder and tucked her against his side, Dom made a mental groan and turned away to grab another bag of soil. If he had to watch any more of this shit he’d vomit. They were both laying it on thick.

“We’d better get back to work,” Jack said, his gaze following Daisy as she left the storeroom.

Fuck, if he didn’t know better, he’d say the guy was really in puppy love. He hoped Daisy didn’t actually fall for him. She didn’t know it yet, but there was zero future with Jack. One way or the other she’d be hurt, and that thought bothered him as well. Above all else, he didn’t want to see her hurt.

I’ve done enough of that to her already.

Two hours later, he and Jack loaded the last potted palm into the back of the delivery truck with a forklift. Thirty minutes after that they were backing up to the Piazza’s loading dock. Jack lowered the window and waved to the security guard, who indicated he should pull right in.

A young guard with a clipboard approached the driver’s side of the truck.

Fuck. Dom grabbed a ball cap he’d seen earlier stuffed between the windshield and the dashboard, yanking it low over his face. I know that guard.

Mario Valenzuela’s name had been on the thumb drive that Alex had retrieved from the fire last year. He and Gray had interviewed Valenzuela, who swore he hadn’t been contacted by the Pyramid and that he would notify the police immediately if he was. There’d been so many names on that list, he couldn’t recall Valenzuela’s issue but remembered the guy worked for a contract security company. At the time of the interview, Valenzuela was assigned to a warehouse in the Bronx, not the Piazza. That, he would have remembered.

“Whatdya got today, Jack?” Valenzuela said as they rolled to a stop.

“Palm trees.” Jack pointed to Dom. “Mario, meet Dom, Daisy’s new hire.”

“Welcome to the Piazza.” Mario leaned down from the dock to look through the truck’s window.

“Thanks.” He nodded back, pulling his ball cap even lower. If the guard recognized him and said something, he’d be screwed.

When another delivery truck began backing into the other loading bay, Valenzuela straightened. “Gotta go, fellas.” He left their loading dock to check on the other driver.

Dom snorted. “Some security.” Inside, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Jack gave him a sly grin. “Tell me about it.”

Utilizing a heavy-duty hand truck, they muscled the potted palms into position in the lobby and grand ballroom, where Daisy had marked X’s on the floor with electrical tape. By the time they were done, both were sweating, and they stopped at a workstation to grab water.

All around them, the place was a hive of activity. Delivery carts rattled by carrying boxes and furniture. Power tools buzzed, floor polishers whirred, and men shouted orders back and forth across the cavernous lobby.

The last time Dom had been inside the Piazza was about ten years ago, and then only to fall asleep in the jazz club. He’d gone there with a date who loved jazz, but to him it sounded like one run-on riff after another, as if the musicians were making it up as they went along.

As he sipped water from a plastic cup he took in as much detail as possible, committing critical observations to memory. Entrance doors. Elevator bank. Escalator. Gilded stairway leading to a black wrought-iron balcony encircling the floor above. More importantly, anyone standing on the south side of the balcony had a perfect vantage point, looking directly down through the lobby and into the ballroom where guests would be seated. He noted the podium at the far end of the room, set high up on a dais.

He’d also taken note of the magnetometers flanking the main entrance doors. Every guest would have to pass through the units, and presumably trained guards would view all belongings on screen.

Mall cops, most likely.

“You getting all this?” Jack asked, also looking around. “Security’s a joke.” He glanced at his watch and swallowed the last of his water, throwing the cup into a nearby garbage can. “Let’s get outta here.”

Back at the shop, Jack drove into the loading bay and lowered the garage door behind them. “Meet me in the storeroom,” he said. “I gotta hit the head.”

As Dom made his way inside he heard the lavatory door shut behind him. Daisy’s voice filtered down the hallway, and he walked toward her office. She was sitting with her back to him, her cell phone pressed to her ear.

“Alex, that’s wonderful,” she said. “When are you due?”

Well, damn. Alex was pregnant.

“Have you told Gray yet?” She swiveled her chair but still didn’t know he was standing at the doorway. She was smiling ear-to-ear, obviously happy for her friend. “Gray’s gonna piss his pants when you tell him.”

Dom grinned, recalling that one of the things he’d liked instantly about Daisy’s personality was her sense of humor and the way she always said what was on her mind. Gray would piss his pants when Alex gave him the news.