“We will, little sister.” She gazed out over the bay. “Feels good without the old pretense. I used to wonder what it would be like to have you with me, to experience the pleasures of life without thought of money. We’ve led separate lives, and yet this has always been our destiny.” She studied me. “Where are your thoughts?”

“With my sister, seeing our girlhood games play out in an amazing story.”

“Well said. We have so much to discuss, but I’m hungry. Business matters canceled my breakfast, and I’m incredibly hungry. Do you mind sitting here while I grab some clothes? I’ll have my men take us to a phenomenal restaurant for brunch.”

“Sounds great, and I’ll enjoy the view.”

“Anything to drink? Water? Coffee? Soda? The coffee at the restaurant is incredible.”

“No thanks.”

She peered at me. “You still have the gun issue?”

“Yes. I use brains, not bullets.”

“More like fools, not firearms. Time to change your little-girl fears.”

“I’m on parole, remember? Can’t risk getting caught.”

“How about getting killed?” She laughed. “By the way, the taller man is Lee and the smaller is Jess. Outstanding bodyguards.”

She disappeared and I wanted to text Denton, but for sure cameras were in place. Memorization was my safest choice. From the balcony, I took in more of the view. A golf course on my left dotted with players and carts. Yachts lined up at the pier, bobbing on sky-blue water like miniature toy boats ready to set sail.

The nagging question persisted about the job Marissa had for me. So much uncertainty. Denton and Mike had warned me she could expect me to deal in prostitution, drugs, murder, or weapon sales. I assumed her sisterly demeanor was in place to trip me up. My new mantra resounded . . .

Be careful.

At the age of thirteen, I longed to be an actress. The imaginary accolades and requests for magazine shoots and autographs fueled my desire. In those young teen days, I never imagined acting as a means to save my life.

Marissa’s bodyguards transported us to a Miami restaurant. Lee drove.

“Your purse stays in the car,” Marissa said. “Always, unless I tell you differently.”

Already my sister had orders, but I expected it.

Inside the restaurant, we chatted over brunch at a remote booth. The price for our fancy omelets hovered over three figures . . . without the coffee. My sister’s pale-blue silk sundress, hat, and sandals gave her runway style.

“You mentioned needing help with business. Have you experienced problems with the economic downturn?”

She pinched off a piece of a blueberry muffin. “Medical insurance billing. I had a licensed physical therapist who used fake patients to bill for services. Lost revenue. The second loss involved selling vacation properties. Can’t sell a getaway when the buyer is out of work.”

“Have you recouped? I saw scam possibilities with the census and election.”

“I dabbled in some. Fundraising for the election brought in a little money. Amazon offered the best cash cow. When I saw 3.5 billion packages were delivered in 2019, I did my research and jumped in.” Marissa’s eyes widened, twinkling with the familiar excitement.