"I'm sure you're wondering who I am,” he began in a strong voice laced with a touch of a French accent. “But that's not important. What’s important is what I’m offering. You and I have a common interest. And we can help each other.”
The man shifted in his seat, and my eyes stayed glued to the painting behind him. That couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t.
He continued. “As I said when I reached out to Mr. Hale, I am aware of your Garreth Jameson problem. And I’m willing to assist. Given the need for secrecy, I’ll need to secure your full cooperation before we can move on.”
Bridge lifted a brow. “What, he thinks we work for him now?”
The man’s lips lifted into a smile. “I know what you're thinking, Covington. Or perhaps Edgerton. You hate to be controlled most of all. No, you don’t work for me. But we can help each other if you are amenable. We’ll draw up terms.” He paused. “However, if you are not amenable, unfortunately, this video will go out to the authorities.”
The screen went dark for a second, and then I could see motion. The building was familiar. We’d robbed it a couple of months ago. Suddenly I could see men scurrying like ants out of the building, heading to different exit points.
What the fuck was this? I’d scrubbed all CCTV feeds from the surrounding buildings that night. All security. Everything.
This is a drone.
Fuck. I’d cocked it up.
How were you supposed to check for a private drone?
The video sped up until it showed Ben and Bridge at the van, and Ben ripped off his balaclava.
“Shit.” Ben’s muttered curse was soft.
The man continued. “I know Mr. Hale is thinking that he was lax on security. I assure you, you were not. I’m just very good. And I like knowing who I’m doing business with. If you assist me, I will give you what you want by using this.” He pointed at the painting. “Mr. Hale knows that Garreth Jameson and his family would do anything to get their hands on this. I’m willing to use it to give you what you want.”
Ben ran his hands through his hair. “Who the fuck is he, and how does he know so much?”
The man leaned forward then. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Francois Theroux. You have one week to give me an answer.”
I was trying to figure out how much of a hoax this was. Who had that kind of access? Who could listen in on our conversations? Then the man sat forward and allowed us to see him clear as day.
A thick shock of white hair, well-tamed and styled, swirled atop his head. His face, though years older, was classically handsome. Strong jaw. Cleft chin. Roman nose that looked like it had been broken at some point in his past. There was an air of refinement to him.
Then the video went black.
Ben asked, "Any of you know this arsehole and why he thinks he’ll get away with blackmail?"
I shook my head. "The photos I have of Theroux are of him as a younger man. But it’s a close enough match. That’s definitely him."
Bridge frowned. "Are we supposed to know him?"
Ben scowled down at his phone. “Alright then. We are going to find out everything there is to know about Francois Theroux.”
“On it,” I muttered. I trusted nobody as a general rule, so a helping hand was going to be met with suspicion. One that was trying to blackmail us was even more reason to be cautious.
East
An hour later, I found the woman in the red dress leaning against the bar. The red silk of her dress showed off strong back muscles and a fantastic ass, leaving me to speculate if she had any knickers on.
The approach was easy. Familiar. I knew this dance and knew it well. Approach, banter, shag in the first semiprivate place we could find, walk away. As I approached, anticipation danced over my skin. As I drew nearer, I hesitated a moment. That scent. Honeysuckle? Her dress screamed sex, but her scent was pure tempting intoxication.
Why was it so damn familiar? “You make a hell of a statement in that dress.”
She turned slowly, hazel eyes landing on mine as she shifted her shawl and clutch to the bar. “I certainly hope so. It’s bait.”
I momentarily choked on my last breath as I stared at her. “Agent Nyla Kincade.” Just saying her name had my cock going rock hard. Flashes of our last encounter made me want to drag her out of the gala to check for fucking bruises… and then kiss them all away.
What. The. Fuck.
Listen, you tosser. She is the enemy and will happily stick you and your mates in the nick.
Her grin went wide. "Mr. Hale. Fancy running into you again.”
Think, you knob. I needed to play this delicately. What the hell was she doing here? And why, instead of me unsettling her, was she here in my sandbox unsettling me?
I needed to be careful, tread lightly. After all, she was coming after me and my friends. “I’ve never seen you at one of these charity galas before. I didn’t think they were your speed, Agent Kincade. But now that I know they are, they will be infinitely more entertaining.”
“Of course, you’d be aware of every single woman who comes to these things. Your reputation precedes you.” Her gaze swept over me and I felt like my skin was on fire. Was she playing with me? Did she think it was a good idea to poke the rock-hard bull right now?
“So, you’ve been asking about me? Should I be worried you’ll get out your cuffs? Though that might be all manner of fun.” I went for one of the most charming smiles in my arsenal. One that was
