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“No.” When no one says anything, The Man leans forward. “Is that a problem?”
“Of course not,” Addie instantly responds. “It’s just a new way of doing business.”
“I’ll send you all the details. Torres is hosting a party Saturday night. I have one invite, but it shouldn’t be more than a two-person job.” He hesitates, then says, “Torres is a dangerous man. Be careful.”
“We always are,” Addie assures him. Then the screen goes black.
“He’s very mysterious,” Brighton murmurs.
“Yeah, what’s the need with all the secrecy?” Ryder asks.
Addie shrugs, and a moment later, her email pings. “He’s never let us down before, right?”
“Not yet,” Deck responds dryly.
She frowns and opens the intel we’ll need. “The emerald is in a safe in Torres’ office, so that makes Linc our lucky winner.” He nods. “Any other volunteers?”
“I’ll go,” I offer. Why the hell not? I don’t have anything else going on—like the hot date I’d insinuated—and maybe I’ll get to flirt with a lovely señorita. Or three.
Because that’s my job…I’m The Charmer.
Much like Brighton, I wield my sexuality for whatever we may need—usually a distraction. Sometimes, a seduction. Not to be arrogant, but my good looks and charismatic personality are an asset. People don’t expect me to have a brain, and that means they underestimate me. Because when it comes to numbers, I’m a human calculator. My eyes are always on the prize, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done.
And right now, I’m about to get that emerald.
Chapter One: Knox
After going over every aspect and detail of the Colombian heist, I feel confident Deck and I will pull it off with ease. Addie emails us all the information from The Man. We have no idea where he gets his intel, but it’s consistently legit.
Schematics and blueprints? Always accurate.
Passwords and keycodes? Never fail.
Hidden tunnel entrance or secret back door to an actual castle? No problem.
The Man provides time and time again when we need something. Just like Angel said he would.
Does it leave me with a multitude of questions? Sure. But we’ve come to rely on his inside information, and the last thing we want to do is piss him off and have him disappear on us. He wants his privacy, for whatever reason, and part of our unspoken agreement is to respect that.
Deck and I are taking a commercial flight that leaves in less than three hours. I have just enough time to pack a duffel bag and scarf down a sandwich before he picks me up. We drive over to the airport and the flight is right on schedule. It’s notlong until the plane is up in the air and we’re en route to South America.
I rotate my neck, working out the kinks, and glance over at Deck, who already looks a little pale. The big guy hates flying, and I take the opportunity to tease him a little.
“Hey,” I say, nodding to the strip of silver tape above his head. “I sure hope there’s more than duct tape holding this bucket of bolts together.”
He looks up at the tape and turns paler. “Yeah, I sure fuckin’ hope so.”
I can’t help but chuckle and he glares at me. Flying never bothers me. In fact, I kind of like it. Flying commercial sucks, but if I’m lucky enough to be on a private plane and can avoid the airport hassle, count me in every time. There’s a certain level of freedom when you’re soaring above the clouds at six-hundred miles per hour.
“Only six more hours,” I cheerfully remind him, and he flips me off.
The party we’re planning to infiltrate tomorrow evening is a black-tie affair and sounds like it’s going to be a mix of socialites, wealthy businessmen and old money. Growing up poor, I was never invited to any fancy shindigs, but since meeting Addie and Angel, I’ve attended a hundred similar soirées.
Slipping inside the mansion and gatecrashing a hoity-toity party is a lot like seducing a whore—minimal effort to succeed. The attendees are so self-absorbed, they pay no attention to anyone but themselves.
And that makes my job easy.
I’m there to mingle and charm. Keep the attention off Deck, who will fade into the periphery like a phantom and break into the host’s safe, stealing an emerald the size of my fist. We work well together, and I’m not expecting any issues.