CHAPTER 5

NICK

Unknown number

We’re on.

Me

You’re buying. Time?

Unknown number

1800

Me

Affirmative

I open the back of the device, pop out the SIM card, lift the maple gavel, and slam it onto the card.

Movement in my periphery catches my attention.

“Is that a gavel? Like a judge uses?”

Her hair glimmers in the lamplight, like a flame dipped in gold. A soft gray sweaterdress with capped sleeves hugs her curves, from her shoulders, around her breasts, to her trim waist and hips, down to her calves. One hand rests on the door handle.

Ready to take flight . Do I scare her?

“Did you issue a verdict?” she asks, her tone melodic, her presence infusing the space with a warmth the hearth fails to deliver.

I follow her pointed gaze to the wood gavel. “Came with the house.” I set it down and sweep the SIM card remnants into my palm. “You going to enter or loiter in the corridor?”

She remains fixed in place, too far away for me to get a good read. So tentative.

“You think I’ll bite?”

“I’ve no idea.” A cock-sure smile crosses her lips. “But you should know, when bitten, I bite back.”

Her hand leaves the knob, and she crosses her arms over her narrow waist and takes a single step into my office.

“I’d expect nothing less, love.”

“Don’t call me love.”

I dump the sharp, tiny pieces in the rubbish and brush my palms against each other. The desire to put the siren in her place brews, but I swallow the temptation.

“Is your room to your liking?”

“I don’t hate it.”

I bite the corner of my lip, unsure what to do with this one. “Take your pick of rooms, lo?—”

A single eyebrow arches, because yes, she caught my near slip, and damned if that eyebrow raise is irritation or amusement. I haven’t a fuck.

“My room is lovely. Thank you. I saw the light on in your office. How shall we proceed?”

“Close the door.”

She glances over her shoulder and stills.

For Christ’s sake . “Close the bloody door.” She pierces me with a glare. “Trust me or not? If you don’t, I’m wasting my time.”

She closes the door and backs up to it.

What the hell? “I’m not a bloody monster.”

Her lips purse, but that’s the only movement I clock. What the bloody hell have I gotten myself into?

“Here’s the deal. Love.” I pause for effect. “If we’re talking about something that might get a head shot off, we close the door. And we only talk about it in my study or outdoors.” The house holds a lot of rooms, a few with a stuffy old-world library vibe and plenty of locations to stash a listening device. “This room is my study,” I add for clarity. “Now, let’s get on with matters of import. You do the books?”

“Quicken. And a proprietary program Titan Shipping uses.”

Finally getting somewhere. “Can you access them from here?”

“No.”

“Fuck—”

“I can tell you where to look. How they do everything.”

That’s helpful, I suppose .

“I have a favor to ask.”

Here we go. Well, she deserves payment. “Go on,” I say, curious about the depth of the beauty’s greed.

“Help me find a new location to live. Somewhere they’ll never think to look.”

She’s talking about hiding from the mafia. “And where would that be?”

“Greenland? Australia? I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with the family. I want to be as far away from them as possible.”

If she’s a witness, that’s wise. “Done.”

“Yes?”

“Absolutely.”

She stands, eyes wide, disbelief etched on her porcelain skin. She’s truly gorgeous. Shiny copper waves and green eyes. Kryptonite for any warm-blooded male.

“Should I select a place?” She sounds impatient.

“You’re good here for a bit, right? The bit about going through Willow’s personal effects, it was true, correct?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Good enough, then. Let’s meet tomorrow after breakfast and get a plan together.”

“Not today?”

“I’ve got to head into the city. Meeting. I’ve a business to run. The meeting was scheduled a while back. Didn’t anticipate you’d be here.” Why am I rambling? I don’t owe her an explanation.

“I understand. Tomorrow.”

“Lina will come and find you for dinner.”

“That’s… I’m not hungry.”

“Chef’ll have something. Lina will get you.”

“I’ll rest in my room. Until dinner.”

“All right, then.”

She fumbles with the doorknob. The door rattles so long she sounds like a prisoner wiggling a lock.

“Need some help?”

A click sounds and the door opens.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No.” She pushes her shoulders back, and the action draws my attention to her breasts. Or hell, it’s nothing to do with her posture and everything with me being a horny perv. Her fingers curl into her palms, and her chin lifts, defiant and fiery. “I’m not afraid of anyone.”

“I believe you,” I say, lying.

She exits immediately.

She’s a nervous bird. Is it all blokes? Or just me?

My gaze follows her arse, and I grind my teeth. It’s a good thing I’m stopping off at the club tonight. It’s been too long since I’ve had a release. Makes me a horny fucker, which makes it hard to think around the woman, and I need my head on straight with this one.

She’s got gumption. I head to the guesthouse in search of Dorian.

“You didn’t mention Scarlet Gagliano is staying with you,” he says in greeting.

“Saw her, did you?”

“Lina mentioned it.” Ah, my sister.

I scan the quaint cottage. “This place okay for you?”

“You know it is.”

It’s curious he showed up at the funeral. More curious that he wanted a place to crash.

“I’m headed into the city. Any interest in joining?” There was a time I wouldn’t need to ask, but Dorian’s grown distant. Perhaps we’ve both grown old.

“No thanks. Like I told you, I’ve got meetings in Dorset. Reschedule for another night in London. I’m rarely on this side of the pond.”

It’s true. Last time I saw Dorian Moore was in Telluride. “My meeting’s early evening. I’ll aim to swing back before it’s too late. You sure I can’t persuade you to join me?”

“I’ll hang here. Have some emails to get to. And I want to catch up with Lina. She’s more appealing than you.”

I point a finger at him. “Get it out of your head.”

He smirks.

“Are you still married?”

His wolfish grin counters the quick shake of his head.

“Exactly. To you, Lina’s off-limits.”

“The divorce is final. What remains are technicalities. It’s with the lawyers.” Utter bullshit.

“It bears repeating. She’s my little sister.”

“Fine. Fine.” He sits on the back of the sofa and grins. “Now that Scarlet. She’s…” he puckers his lips, and I hold up a hand.

“Up you go. You’re coming with me to the city.”

“Hmm. Is the ginger off-limits?”

Not happening . I snap my fingers. “Come on. Get your arse moving.”

“I’m just messing with you. I’m wiped. I only got in this morning. After those beers we had this afternoon, I’m done.”

“Come with me and we’ll stay the night at the club. I’ll have you back in time for your meeting.”

He debates it, squirming in his chair. He wants to. What bloke doesn’t?

Leo. Bloody saint, that one. Didn’t appreciate the finer points of life.

“Rain check.”

His shoes are off, his collar’s undone, and his eyes are slightly bloodshot. Looks proper knackered.

“Want me to have your dinner delivered?”

“Room service?”

I lift a shoulder. It’s no sweat off my back.

“You really don’t want me around your sister. Or is it the redhead?”

“Sod off.”

He chuckles. Wanker.

“Chef will be in touch via the landline.” I rap my knuckle against the wall on my way out. “Who did you say you’re meeting with tomorrow?”

“I didn’t.”

Fucking wanker. That sly grin.

With that, I head on to the helipad. Chances are he’s jostling my chain for kicks. Probably on an errand for his father.

Halston Moore, or Dorian Senior, is one of the most controlling men I’ve ever met, and given my circle of Type-A’s, that’s saying something. The man treats his adult son like an errand boy. All the same, I shoot off a text to Ash to have someone follow Dorian in the morning.

* * *

Charlemagne prances in high platform heels, a short skirt that poofs out in tiers, and a bustier that puts her voluptuous breasts on display. She holds the door for me as I step inside, scanning the private room. No windows, a plush four-poster bed, glass cabinets with amenities, and a narrow bench at the end of the bed.

“Is this the best you have?”

“I’m afraid so, love.” Her red lips are full, and they shine brightly against her dark skin. Her nails could double as daggers.

“All right.” I pull out five hundred pounds and pass it over.

She takes it with a gracious smile. “Enjoy.”

The door closes, and I take in the room. Nomad offered to provide a location, but I like clandestine clubs.

Built-in secrecy. If someone exits a room, they assume you’re fucking, and if they ever leaked it, they’d risk their treasured membership.

I drag the bench away from the bed. The room is tiny, but in the bathroom, there’s a stool beneath the vanity. I remove the dainty piece and sit it across from the bench.

If we need to sit, that’s taken care of.

I step inside the bathroom, hidden from the hallway or anyone entering, and wait.

Two minutes pass and there’s a rap at the door.

There’s a faint clicking sound, and the door opens. In the mirrored ceiling, I glimpse the man entering the room. A herringbone six-on-one jacket and matching trousers. Brown wing tips. Classic posh wanker.

The door clicks closed behind him, and I step forward, careful to avoid startling him.

“Nomad,” I say. It’s the name he gave when I called the number on Leo’s card.

The man’s name is Tristan Wagner, although he uses the last name Voignier when on Interpol business. In most of his cases, his real identity would hinder his cause.

He first came across our radar when he followed a case to the Caymans.

An Interpol contact equals access. A tool for leverage. He’s not our only contact, but a general rule with resources is that you can’t have too much of a good thing.

“Falcon.” My lips twist at the code name assigned to me. I don’t necessarily agree with the code names, but on the off chance anything is being recorded or someone overhears, best to not share names. That’s sound advice I can abide by. Of course, the Interpol officer knows my fucking name. Knows everything about me, probably going three generations back.

“I appreciate your agreeing to work with us,” he says.

“We have mates in common.”

“That we do.” His eyes narrow. “You requested this meeting. Do you have something to share?”

“I do.” I pass him a dildo and love the fuck out of his puzzled expression. “There’s a chip inside.” There are photos and maps on the chip. It’s everything he needs to track a human trafficking route in Southeast Asia run by a Vietnamese chap who attempted to short-change me on a real estate deal. But it’s in my interest to blow his operation anonymously.

“Anything for me?” What I want is confirmation Leo landed safely. I don’t know his true identity, but he’s not a Sullivan. If I’d pressed on the day of the confrontation, when I considered killing the traitor, he wouldn’t have told me.

After all those years, Leo didn’t trust me, but I trusted him from the start. He’s a good man. A rarity. It’s why I knew I had to force him to bring Willow along when he disappeared. He’s too selfless. He needed a shove.

My first call to Nomad was to tell him he needed to orchestrate an exit. Have to give credit where it’s due. His team pulled it together. Nomad and I worked well together on that first project. Assuming Leo landed safely, that is.

Nomad scratches his jaw as if he’s uncertain what I’m asking.

“Did the package arrive safely?”

“Ah. That. Yes. Safely delivered.”

His thumb rubs across the curve of the black plastic dildo.

The second he realizes what he’s doing, he drops it into his trouser pocket.

“That’s a high-end model. Vibrations controlled by a mobile.”

“Duly noted.” He rocks back on his heels. “When we spoke, you mentioned the need to move quickly because of a burned identity. Any more on that?”

“Unfortunately, no. Traced the message to a burner. The curious bit is the mystery man knew a number only allocated to a specific few.”

“If it was someone you knew, why would they use a code name?”

“They wouldn’t. I think someone within the group was hacked.”

I read his skepticism.

“My friends aren’t all as savvy as I’d like them to be.”

“So you’ve no idea who contacted you?”

“None.”

“Are you concerned?”

Annoyed is more like it. “If you’ve done your part, no.”

If the whistleblower believes Leo’s dead, all’s good. At least, there’s no grave concern. I still need to identify the leak. If it was a syndicate member, they wouldn’t be playing this game. They would’ve told the group and insisted Leo die.

“You’re not worried your communications are compromised?”

“Not mine.” I own three different tech companies and specialize in online security. “One of the other blokes, sure. I’m working on it. I’ll be careful.”

“Our systems… we’ve been monitoring for any mention of a Prophet.”

When I asked the whistleblower for an identity, the prick responded with “A Prophet.” Egotistical fuckwad.

“Same. I’ll keep you updated on our results.”

“Will you?”

He’s right to be skeptical. “If it serves me, I’ll share.”

“I was told you play it straight.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, but the one with the dildo quickly withdraws. “Anything else? Any deals in the works?”

“Are there any deals I’m willing to implode? That’s your question, right? That’s what I gave you on the joy contraption. The ladies call it a pocket rocket. It won’t disappoint.”

“We appreciate your working with us,” he reiterates, sounding like quite the statesman.

I’m not working with them, I’m using them.

“Change of topic. My team tracked a hack into one of my shell companies.”

“The two hundred million theft. I heard about it. You found the culprits?”

“Aye. Lupi Grigi.”

His eyes widen. “They went after you?”

“Seems they suspect I had a hand in the bust from two years ago.”

“Our sources heard the same.”

Yes, Leo warned me. “I underestimated their tech capabilities. Won’t happen again. I recommend the same.”

“We’re not in the business of protecting the mafia. We consider them a threat. It’s not my area of expertise, but…appreciate the insight all the same. Others will find the information quite…useful.” He clocks the space, his gaze darting about before resting on me. “What’re you going to do about it?”

“I’m working on a plan. It should involve quite a bit of useful information for your counterparts.”

He connects the dots. “Ah. I see. Well, we welcome it. You know how to get in touch. Is that it?”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

“I’ll be on my way, then.” He holds up the room key. “Do I give this to you? Someone else?”

“On your way to the lift, pick a lovely bird. Hand her the key. Send her my way.” I need to blow off steam.

He lifts his shoulders noncommittally. “As you wish. Any preference? Blonde? Asian? Big tits? Small?”

“Surprise me.”