Cash: A Dark Romance (Saint and Sinners Book 2)

by Ruby Vincent

  “It’s tricky. I don’t have many colleagues in my field.”

  Me: You mentioned once spreading me and torturing my clit. Something about making me scream loud enough to wake a neighborhood. My reward was drawing an audience that would watch you pound me into the dirt.

  Me: We’ve got soup and a room full of grifters. Does that count?

  “—as a composer myself,” Malia went on, “I’m able to effectively pass myself off.”

  I bent to type something else. A hand slipped through my dress slit. I had enough time for my eyes to widen before Killian flicked my clit.

  The warning to not play games with him rang loud and clear. Killian called me out. In a room of people. With our mark sitting five feet away. And he didn’t break his conversation.

  “Fascinating,” Killian said. He rolled his thumb over the helpless nub, zinging sparks through me that lit my face on fire. “Grady, I’ve heard whispers about your exploits with the superdollar. How did you replicate the color-shifting numerals?”

  I scooted my chair over. Killian flashed out and gripped the underside, drawing me right back. He smiled into my eyes as two fingers pushed past my folds. “How’s the soup, lover?”

  “I-it’s good,” I rasped. “I’ve got to get the recip— Oh.”

  Killian picked up the pace—expertly fingering me and teasing my clit one-handed.

  The tablecloth covered me at the waist. No one could see our activities, and yet I felt the spotlight on us. Each glance in my direction a question of when I’d come, how good was he, and could they get a taste?

  Believe it or not, ruthless killer did not translate to adventurous sex life. Over the years, I’ve viewed my fellow man through a pane of glass. No one could understand me. The things I’d done would horrify them. My acts to come would send them screaming into the night.

  The boyfriends I picked up over the years, were due to Adeline’s human need for connection and a break from the monotony of life. The creature certainly did not need the string of forgettables I dated, and when they inevitably didn’t satisfy mentally or sexually, she cut them loose.

  But the Merchants were not those men. They blew up every wall I built to shield my true self. They took without asking. Destroyed without remorse. Screwed like it was their mission to kill me by mind-blowing orgasm. Neither Adeline nor her alter ego was ready for this.

  “I dabbled in counterfeiting,” Killian went on. Did anyone else notice the smugness lacing his words, or was it just me? “But came back to art in the end. So many rich bags willing to swear on their life, their piece isn’t a fake. Anything to avoid looking the fool. Don’t you agree, Adeline?”

  I rocked on his hand, eyes fluttering as he hit that spot. “Uh... huh,” I got out.

  “Adeline, are you okay?” Malia asked. “You don’t look well.”

  “Fine. Just a”—Killian spread my legs apart and inserted finger number three—“little queasy.”

  “Oh, I’ve got just the thing for that.” Malia dug in her purse. “I get pretty bad motion sickness. Equilibrium of a drunk goose over here. So, I always have these on—”

  The bottle slipped out of her hand.

  “One second.”

  “No,” I blurted.

  Malia stuck her head under the cloth to rescue the runaway medicine.

  I froze, mouth open in silent protest, and Killian kept on what he was doing.

  “There it...” Malia trailed off.

  Slowly, she straightened in her seat. Her cheeks were tomato red.

  “Did you find it?” Killian asked.

  “No,” she rushed. “It’s gone.”

  I could’ve smacked him—if I wasn’t on the edge of receiving one of the best orgasms of my life.

  Killian crooked a finger, and I was gone. My climax took me so hard, it bucked me off the chair. I kneed the table, rattling the fine china and snapping every eye to me.

  Bold as shit, Killian withdrew his fingers and licked them one by one.

  “Excuse me.” Malia ran from the table.

  “My stomach,” I croaked to the questioning looks. I clutched the table, breathing hard on lingering waves surging from my core. “I should... find a place to lie down.”

  “Allow me.”

  La Roche appeared at my side. “Forgive me, I overheard you weren’t feeling well. Come with me. You can take a rest in my office.”

  “That’s kind of you.”

  I flicked to Killian. He gave me an imperceptible nod.

  “Thank you.” I took his outstretched hand. “Sorry to put you out.”

  “Not at all, Miss Redgrave. The first rule of my parties is everyone leaves satisfied.”

  Together we left the dining room and ascended the swirling staircase. I kept a hand over my stomach to sell the bit.

  La Roche brought me to the room opposite the landing. His office was the grand space I expected it to be. A sleek, black desk sat beneath a massive fish tank set in the wall. There were paintings here and there, but the jewel of this room was the bookshelves stretched to the loft, where there were even more books.

  La Roche helped me to a leather couch next to a statue of an upright man bowing his head.

  “If you’re feeling up to it later, my chef will bring you a bowl of clear broth.”

  “Thanks again,” I replied.

  La Roche swept out, leaving me in the sanctum sanctorum.

  This felt like a test if there ever was one. There was no reason to bring me to his office with his laptop, desktop, and a frame positioned perfectly to cover what could be a wall safe. I’d bet there were hidden cameras all over the place, and La Roche was interested in seeing what the date of his long-lost friend Killian, would do.

  What she did was lie on the couch and didn’t move a muscle except to shoot a few texts.

  Not to Killian. I learned my delicious, exhibitionist lesson in a big way.

  Me: Anything on our friend at the home?

  Gianna replied in minutes.

  Gianna: Single. No kids. Mountains of credit card debt.

  Me: No one to use against her.

  Gianna: No one to miss her when she’s gone.

  Gianna: Decided what you’re going to do yet?

  Me: Not yet. As Dad pointed out, people with nothing to lose play by different rules. Certainly better ones than people with everything to lose.

  Gianna: She won’t release that recording. It’s not going to come to that. Whatever happens.

  Me: No. She won’t.

  I dropped my phone in my purse, then stretched out, folding my arms behind my head. How long until I could reasonably make a full recovery?

  Twenty minutes. Then I gave it another ten minutes. Then I decided to hang out and see if La Roche would come for me. I nearly dozed off.

  “—in here.”

  The door swept open and Killian swept inside. My love was power and sex appeal personified in that suit. He came to me, fabric stretched over a different part of him to outline the hard line of his shoulder. The girth between his legs.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked me.

  “Much better.” We shared a grin as he kissed my knuckles.

  “Good. I’ll take you back to the party.”

  “Don’t rush off so soon.” La Roche eased into his desk chair. “I finally have the opportunity to catch up with you, Killian. Please, sit.”

  Killian led me to the chairs placed before his desk.

  “What have you been up to the last few years, Killian?”

  “Like I mentioned, I moved to Canada where—”

  He waved that away. “Enough of that. I know every major player and where they operate. I haven’t heard word of anyone worth knowing about working in Canada for at least five years. You haven’t been there. You haven’t been anywhere by my reckoning. There hasn’t been a whisper of your particular signature in play for years.”

  Killian reclined, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Getting right to the point, I see.”

 
“I figure that would be best. I do have guests waiting.”

  “You’re correct,” Killian said. “I’ve made certain life changes since we last spoke. I’m out of the forgery racket. Currently, I work for a group that is interested in doing a deal with you.”

  “That group would be?”

  “The Merchants.”

  If I expected shock, awe, or horror, I didn’t get it. La Roche’s expression remained the same.

  “I’ve heard of them,” he replied. “New gang making a name for themselves by selling their services to the highest bidder. Are you one of them?”

  “No,” Killian said easily. “I’m a go-between. If you’ve heard of them, you know they keep their identities secret. Someone has to meet and vet potential clients. That’s what I do.”

  “You’re the deal man.”

  Killian swept out his arms. “That’s me.”

  “How much does this gig net you?”

  “Twenty percent.”

  He hummed. “The diamonds they stole in their last hit were worth millions. I see why you left the uncertain world of grifting.”

  La Roche gestured to me.

  “This young lady work for them as well?”

  “This young lady can speak for herself,” I said. “I don’t work for them so much as I work with Killian-slash-sleep with him. I’m the girlfriend. Sometimes I tag along if my presence will smooth a prickly personality over.”

  La Roche chuckled. “Am I one such prickly personality?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  He threw his head back laughing. “I like you already,” he said. “Go on. What’s this deal?”

  “The Merchants know of the arrangement you have with the Kings.” Leaning forward, Killian laid his crossed hands on the desk. “An arrangement that’s served you and Angelo well for years, but has recently come into question with the promotion of Lorenzo Bianchi.”

  La Roche lost the amused twist to his lips. “Your bosses are well-informed.”

  “They are. You wanted to get to the point, so here it is. The Merchants are willing to offer you a sixty-five/thirty-five split in your favor, if you funnel your products exclusively through them.”

  “Exclusively,” he repeated. “As in, sever ties with the most notorious gang in the city for a bunch of up-and-comers without the infrastructure to sell my products? I don’t understand, Killian. Why didn’t you tell those fools not to waste my and your time with this?”

  Killian showed no reaction. “I explained the odds were unlikely. The Merchants maintain they have an offer worth your while.”

  “The Merchants,” he scoffed. “They knocked over a jewelry store that was a Kings’ front—whether they knew it at the time or not. Suddenly, warehouses are burning down, the Kings are child sex peddlers, and Angelo is telling me a small annoyance has grown into a big one. Next thing I know, he’s dead and Thug Junior tells me he refuses to honor the original contract. Are the Merchants responsible for this?”

  “If you’re asking if the Merchants killed Angelo, I don’t know. They don’t share those details with me.”

  La Roche hummed, observing him steadily. “If you had to guess...”

  “I’d say no. Killing Angelo would serve no purpose. The Kings are still going strong.”

  “That is true,” he said, inclining his head. “Though men like that tend to act first, think later.”

  “They’re not the men you think they are. They’re smarter than that, Richard. The fact they have me on the payroll proves it,” he said. “They can recoup the losses you’d incur breaking with the Kings. I’ll tell you how if you’re open to alternatives. If not, let’s part as friends.”

  La Roche looked from Killian to me and back to Killian. “I’ll hear you out,” he finally said. “Then, I’ll decide if I’m open to alternatives.”

  Killian outlined the terms by which Cinco casinos and underground fighting rings would become their vehicle for passing off counterfeit cash. In terms of moving the forgeries, Killian’s own experience in that area should assure him they’d be able to continue on without issue.

  “This is all well and good,” La Roche said when he was finished. “But what you’re essentially asking is for me to provide the start-up capital to get these operations off the ground. I’m sure they will be profitable once they do, but until then, I will incur losses as well as make an enemy of the Kings.

  “Enzo is an upstart shit, but I can survive on thirty-five percent of seven million. How long until the Merchants reach that bracket?”

  “Certainly not this tax year,” Killian replied.

  I sat there silently. Killian insisted I not know the script beforehand. I was to jump in at the right opportunities, naturally sensing when my two cents were needed. So far, I wasn’t seeing an opening in this volley.

  La Roche clapped. “Well, if that’s all, there’s a party downstairs.” He rose from his seat.

  “In the event you said no,” Killian spoke up, “I’ve been authorized to sweeten the pot.”

  “Forget it, Killian. There’s nothing they’ve got that can make up for over two million—”

  “Kieran’s ledger.”

  The phrase dropped like a missile through a blimp, blowing the pretense to shreds.

  “It’s yours.”

  La Roche returned to his seat. “Excuse me?”

  “In exchange for your business, the Merchants will sell their services to your highest bid. They’ll get you the ledger, Richard. The one thing that’s eluded you for half your career.”

  “Give it to me?” He frowned. “Do they have it?”

  “No.”

  Fervor drew him over the desk, mimicking Killian’s position. “Do they know where it is? Who has it?”

  “They will.”

  “Will?” he repeated the word like he didn’t understand it. “What do you mean will?”

  “The Merchants are searching for the ledger. Once they have it, they will give it to you as a signing bonus,” Killian said. “My job is to make sure both parties get what they want. This is what you want, Richard. Take it.”

  “Take what?” he cried. “They don’t even have it. You can’t just pick the ledger up in aisle six next to the toilet paper. I’ve spent twenty years of my life searching for it. I’m supposed to wait another twenty on the promise they come through? All the while they’re profiting off my business.” He barked a laugh. “Is your job comedian too?”

  Killian took the derision in stride. “It won’t take twenty years. We all know Kieran isn’t the checkout boy scanning that toilet paper. He’s someone with money and influence, and if the respectable world doesn’t know his name, then the criminal world certainly does. There’s a limited pool of people he could be. Those jobs the Merchants took weren’t just for the money. They’ve narrowed that pool down considerably. I project they’ll have Kieran and his ledger in two months.”

  “Two months, huh? So, what do they need me for? Do they even know what that ledger is?”

  “They know,” was the calm reply.

  “And they’re just going to give it to me? Why? What’s to stop them using the ledger against me instead?”

  “Against you? How could they do that?” Killian raised a brow. “Is there a page in that ledger with your name on it?”

  “Of course not!” La Roche tore off the scarf and threw it in a crumpled heap on his desk.

  Irrational anger and swift denial seemed to be the standard response when that question was asked.

  “You know what I meant,” he said. “They could hold it over my head instead. Say I can’t have the ledger unless I work for them with whatever terms they like.”

  Killian shook his head. “They aren’t interested in fostering a negative business relationship, or I wouldn’t be here. A break with the Kings is dangerous for you, and them. This is what we call hazard pay, Richard. Take the deal.”

  “No, no.” La Roche tossed his head. The sly, friendly con man routine was coming apart at the
seams. “This is nonsense. You approaching so soon after Angelo died and Lorenzo is forced to take desperate steps. It reeks of a plot, and I don’t like it, Killian. I’m not impressed at all.”

  Gotta give it to the man. He didn’t get where he was by being a sucker.

  “I don’t know these men. These— These Merchants,” he spat. “Bring them here. Let me speak to them myself.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  He threw out his hands. “Then it’s impossible for me to do business with them. I know a fake when I see one, Killian, and I will look them in the eye while they spin me this fairy tale of gifting me the prize not even I could get my hands on. It’ll be fun to watch them try to keep a straight face.”

  “You know what. You’re right.” Killian stood, pacing behind me. “How can you trust them? Fuck knows if I got my hands on the ledger, I wouldn’t give it up.”

  I wheeled around, goggling at him. What are you saying?!

  “Exactly,” said La Roche. “It’s dangling the carrot for the horse. A well-chosen carrot certainly, but there are no guarantees it’ll be mine at the end of the road.”

  “Okay. What if I sold them on another deal?” Killian gripped the back of the chair. “They’re not going to meet you, Richard. There’s no way. But the Merchants can still prove themselves to you.”

  “No, they can’t. I will not be conned, Killian.”

  “I get your hesitation, but they’re not us. Grifters are in it for what they can get. Merchants are about what they can trade. If you heard about them, then you know all of their customers got what they paid for. No scams. No tricks.”

  La Roche lifted his chin—jaw ticcing, but no protest followed.

  “Give them a job,” Killian stated. “Something you’ve wanted that you can’t get yourself. They’ll do it, Richard. They’ll prove their skill and gain your trust in one move.”

  “What I want is that ledger.”

  “And you’ll have it,” he returned in an instant. “In two months. But by then, I’ll be out of a job. They expect me to make this deal, and I believe we can do that. Something else. Anything else. When they deliver it to you, the Merchants become your new partners.”