Rémy kept his free hand folded on the table. Behind the sunglasses, his eyes kept drifting to the croissant.
Jade came down the jet stairs one step at a time, holding the rail. She stopped at the bottom.
Rémy turned his head toward her and smiled.
"Ah. La petite voleuse."
Jade's knuckles went white on the rail.
Damien answered him in French, low and even, a handful of words. Rémy's smile slipped. He faced the table again.
"What did he call her?" Aria asked.
"The little thief."
"And what did you say?"
"That she's with me."
Jade heard it. She let go of the rail and walked straight past Rémy to the car waiting at the hangar door.
Damien turned to the nearest of his men. "Water. Nothing else."
"Yes, sir."
"Madame Sinclair," Rémy said as Aria passed. "A man thinks better on a full stomach."
"Then you've got all day to think," Aria said.
***
