Code Name: Heist

by Sawyer Bennett

  Saint grabs my hand, tugging me toward where we’d come in earlier. “Hurry, Sin. Let’s get out of here.”

  “But what about—” I point to Neal’s body, trotting to keep pace with Saint’s long strides.

  “Not our problem anymore,” he replies.

  No, I suppose it’s not. And for the moment, Saint and I are safe. Mercier seems to like Saint. If I had to guess, we’re definitely going to be part of the big heist, whatever that may be.

  I wonder how long it will be until we’re free? Not that Saint and I have talked about future plans, but I feel the burning need to do so.

  Something important happened in that warehouse.

  Saint and I dodged death. Mercier could have easily turned that gun on us to wipe out the last two witnesses to a murder conducted while perpetrating a robbery at his behest.

  We have no more room to fuck up.

  We have to be extremely careful going into this next phase with Mercier. Our lives are now on the line.

  CHAPTER 17

  Saint

  Can’t say I care for Mercier, not even a little bit. While I had no love lost for Neal, when Mercier killed him, he’d become no better than the man with the bullet in his brain.

  But I will have to say I’m glad about the invitation that arrived at my hotel room this morning. Sin and I were having a lazy morning with breakfast in bed when the knock at the door came.

  A courier held a square envelope in cream parchment with calligraphy lettering on the front. At first, my heart had sunk when I saw how it was addressed.

  Monsieur Saint Bellinger and Mademoiselle Sindaria Westin

  Its delivery to my room informs me that not only does Mercier keep track of my whereabouts, but he also knows Sin and I are together.

  I’m not overly worried that he knows we’re sleeping together. William would have told him about mine and Sin’s history together. Perhaps he realizes it’s only natural we might reconnect.

  I don’t like the fact he knows where I’m staying, though. I registered at the hotel using the alias I’d traveled under, which means he had someone follow me from Margeaux, probably after my very first visit. It means I have to assume Mercier’s eyes are on me at all times now.

  Once I got past the shock of seeing our names together, I moved back into the bedroom where I was momentarily distracted by a naked Sin rolling out of bed.

  “What’s that?” she’d asked.

  I stared at her, completely paralyzed by all that beauty and sex standing there until she nodded pointedly at the envelope.

  I tore it open, then scanned the contents. “Looks like we’re going to a party next weekend at Mercier’s chateau. And… he’s enclosed a gift card to an upscale clothing store. The note says we should buy to our heart’s content as a thank you for a job well done.”

  Sin snorted as she headed into the bathroom to start the shower. I’d tossed the envelope on the bed and followed her, intent on taking advantage of her in there.

  Now we’re at said clothing store—which is by appointment only—getting ready to spend an obscene amount of Mercier’s money. I’ve already picked out a dove-gray silk suit that only needs minor alterations, which will be done by the end of the day. Sin’s having a bit more fun by trying on dress after dress, then modeling them for me.

  For a moment, as I sit here on a velveteen couch sipping champagne while Sin spins slowly in front of a mirror on a raised dais, watching the skirt flare out, I forget the magnitude of what I’ll be facing in the days or weeks to come. I briefly escape into my mind, pretending Sin and I are free. That we’re merely going out to a fancy dinner and perhaps the opera after, she’ll look amazing in the dress she’s wearing, and I’ll peel it from her body slowly after we return to our home.

  “What do you think?” Sin asks. A thin, modelesque saleswoman stands quietly by, holding another dress for Sin to try on next. The massive private dressing room we are in is luxuriously appointed.

  I appraise Sin’s form in the flow of the material, realizing she’s looked equally beautiful in each dress she’s tried on… and it has nothing to do with the clothes.

  It’s simply Sin, beautiful inside and out.

  Still, she’s asked for my involvement, so I rise from the couch, set my champagne glass on a table, and move over to the saleswoman. Taking the dress from her, I murmur, “A little privacy, please.”

  The saleswoman gives a deferential bow before leaving and closing the door behind her. Sin doesn’t pay me any attention, her regard fixed on her reflection in the mirror.

  At a table where the saleswoman had previously laid out several sets of lingerie to be worn under whatever potential dress Sin chose, I start to flip through them, relishing the feel of the silk under my fingertips while imagining myself ripping through it once we’re in bed.

  I pick up a nude set of panties with black lace etching and a matching bustier. Bringing them to the dais behind Sin, I hold them out to her.

  “Try these on,” I suggest.

  She smirks at me through the mirror. “I need your opinion on a dress, not lingerie.”

  “Don’t care about the dress,” I reply, shooting her a grin. “It’s what’s underneath I’ll be thinking about.”

  “Perv,” she replies affectionately as she takes the offered lingerie.

  I return to the couch, pick up my champagne glass, and settle back to watch Sin change.

  My burner phone ringing has me growling in frustration, but I can’t miss a call from Kynan, so I sigh and dig it out.

  Sin doesn’t let the call deter her. She continues to slip out of the dress she has on while I answer and bring the phone to my ear. “Bellinger.”

  “Just checking in,” Kynan says.

  Sin is completely naked except for a stretchy piece of white fabric that does amazing things for her long legs. Despite the fact I’m in a clothing store in a private dressing room and on a call with Kynan, I feel a stirring between my legs. She does it to me every damn time.

  Paying no attention to me, Sin shimmies out of it and pulls on the nude panties, which are a lovely contrast with her darker skin.

  “How are things going with you?” Kynan prompts.

  I keep things simple as it’s never good for these calls to last long. “We completed another job for Mercier. He’s invited us to a big party at his house next weekend, and I’m hoping we’ll find out more about the big heist then.”

  “Good,” Kynan replies.

  I don’t bother going into the details of our last job, and I most certainly have no intention of discussing the murders of Brandis or Neal. If Kynan had any clue how bloody and dangerous this situation has become, he’d pull me from the job. I’m not willing to chance that happening since I’m finally getting close to figuring out what the big heist is.

  “I’ve been thinking about how this all ends,” I say while Sin puts on the bustier. She looks amazing, but I don’t lose focus because this is important. “I’m going to have to see it through to the bitter end.”

  “All the way?” Kynan asks, but he’s playing dumb. He knows what I’m saying.

  “The heist. Unless Mercier has the loot in hand, he’ll be untouchable. There won’t be a good way to prove he’s behind it since William runs the show.”

  Kynan stays silent for a moment. Sin’s listening, although she’s pretending not to by checking out her reflection in the mirror. The tight set to her shoulders, though, says she’s invested in this conversation.

  “Maybe we should involve the police,” Kynan suggests.

  “Too risky.” I’ve already considered—and discounted—this. “Mercier could easily have some of the officers on his payroll. We can’t afford a leak—not even a chance of one.”

  “If you get busted, you’ll go down,” Kynan reminds me.

  Believe me, I know. “You’re going to have to hope to fuck I don’t get caught, but it would help for Bebe to go ahead and create valid alibis for Sin and me in the States.”

 
It won’t be difficult as we’re both traveling under aliases. In this line of work, people can’t move about freely under their real names—not if they’re any good at what they do.

  “I’ll see what she can whip up,” Kynan promises. “So… you and Sin?”

  “Package deal,” I say, alluding to the fact that whatever help Jameson gives me had better extend to Sin. However, I don’t think that’s exactly what Kynan is asking. I don’t leave any room for doubt, though. “She has to be included in whatever you do to extricate me. If you don’t, I’m out of here. I’ll abandon this right now, no looking back, unless I get your assurance, Kynan.”

  That gets Sin’s attention. She spins from the mirror, fixing those turbulent, witchy eyes on me.

  Yes, I’d meant what I’d just said, but that’s my secondary plan. I have to at least try to convince her to get the hell out of Paris sooner rather than later, but that’s a fight for another day.

  Kynan says what I need to hear. “I promise, Saint. We’ll get her out safely, too.”

  I’m grateful. “Thanks, Kynan. It means a lot to me. Now, is there any word on Malik?”

  He sighs before admitting, “None. He’s vanished. Like a ghost.”

  Those words hurt—punching me deeply in the gut. Sin is all but forgotten as I close my eyes and picture the last time I’d hung out with Malik the night before he left on his mission. It’s not fair.

  “We’ve got lots of people working on it,” Kynan says. “President Alexander has even personally put his resources to work.”

  “That’s good,” I murmur. Opening my eyes, I realize Sin has gone stock-still as she carefully studies me, concern etched on her face.

  She steps off the dais and walks toward me, coming to kneel on the thick carpet between my legs. It’s not in a sexual manner. Her arms settle on my thighs, her hands casually resting there in a silent show of support. At the end of this, I’ll damn well never walk away from her.

  I cover one of her hands with my own as I tell Kynan, “Don’t call me anymore. Mercier is watching me.”

  “Understood,” Kynan says. “And stay safe, okay?”

  “Got it,” I say. “Find Malik.”

  “Got it,” he replies before disconnecting.

  “No word on your friend?” Sin asks. I had told her about Jameson, all the friends I’d made there, and about Malik—how he was presumably taken prisoner but could just as easily be dead.

  I shake my head, reaching to tug on one of her curls. “You feel like getting something to eat?”

  Smiling, she coyly tilts her head. “I thought you wanted me to try on all this lingerie for you?”

  “I say we buy it all,” I reply, tossing the phone on the couch. I tug Sin up from the floor, urging her onto my lap. “You can give me a private show in my hotel room.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle my neck.

  I stroke her back, relishing the feel of her in my arms. She’s definitely upped the stakes for me in this game, because now I have to keep her safe as well.

  But she’s worth the extra effort.

  CHAPTER 18

  Sin

  I’m in Paris at an outdoor cafe in June with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever known sitting across from me. Thanks to our shopping spree, my outfit manages to be both cute and sexy. I’m wearing a gray-and-white striped romper, a big floppy straw hat with a gray bow on the side of my head, one side tilted over my eye. It was a gift from Saint, who’d ended up buying me a few outfits he liked. Add on flat T-strapped sandals scattered with sparkly clear rhinestones, and I look like I belong exactly where I am.

  Except none of this is enjoyable to me.

  “Paris has been officially ruined,” I moan, running my index finger along my water glass. I hate coffee, but Saint is enjoying his espresso, so the café is not a total bust.

  “Why’s that?” he asks, sitting in his chair with one leg crossed casually over the other. In fitted khaki pants, brown loafers, and a blue gingham checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, he looks good enough to eat.

  “Hmm… let’s see,” I ponder, pursing my lips. Focusing on him, I lay it out. “I’m working for a Parisienne I despise, who’s holding me hostage to fulfill a debt my dad shouldn’t even owe since it was a medical condition and not his fault. I’ve been thrust back into working with you—a man who has every right to hate my guts because of how badly I’ve wronged him—and oh… a real biggie… I watched two men get their brains blown out.”

  “Technically, one brain was blown out in London,” Saint points out with the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Don’t let that ruin Paris for you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever. The point is that it’s all tied to Julian Mercier, who resides in Paris. Therefore, he’s ruined this city for me.”

  Saint scans the busy street where tourists and locals stroll along, enjoying the sunny weather. Slowly, he focuses my way. “I think you should consider bowing out.”

  His words are ludicrous. I make a scoffing sound, then take a sip of my “fizzy” water—as it’s often called throughout Europe. “I can’t, and you know it. Not with my dad’s life in the balance.”

  Saint uncrosses his legs, then leans forward slightly across the circular, wrought-iron table. “I’ve got contacts, Sin. I can get you and your dad to safety.”

  “And what then? Live life looking over my shoulder while always fearful of Mercier tracking us down?”

  Saint’s expression hardens slightly, his voice a little cold. “When I say I have contacts, I mean I have the kind that can erase you. Give you new lives. You could go wherever you want.”

  I do believe he’s offering this from a position of care, but I also think there’s an element twined throughout that says it would be easier for him if I weren’t involved anymore. And what he’s offering would turn my world upside down, so I feel obligated to point out, “What if I don’t want to be erased? What if I like being Sin Westin—like living a life where I can freely walk down the street without worrying if someone will sneak up behind me to put a bullet in my brain?”

  Saint sighs, sinking back into his chair. His fingertips play at the rim of his espresso cup. Grimacing, he mutters. “Just trying to give you options, Sin. You could at least give it some consideration.”

  So easily dismissing his idea makes me feel a little ungrateful. I do believe Saint only wants what’s best for me in the current situation. He’s dealing with a lot right now, needing to keep us both safe while he navigates this incredibly dangerous journey.

  “Hypothetically,” I drawl, catching his attention. “If I were to accept your offer, where exactly would my dad and I go?”

  Saint straightens, relief I’m open to discussing this evident in his expression. “Anywhere you want, although I’d probably advise against Europe since it’s too close to Mercier right now.”

  “And what about you?” I ask.

  Saint blinks. “What about me?”

  I lean forward slightly, crossing my forearms and resting them on the table. My gaze is unwavering. “What would you do when all this is over?”

  He frowns, as if the answer to my question is self-evident and he doesn’t understand how I’m not seeing it so plainly in front of me. “I’d go back to Pittsburgh. To my job at Jameson.”

  A scoffing noise deep within my chest erupts. I avert my eyes, finding it painful to swallow the pure indifference on his face.

  At least, that’s what I think it is.

  “What?” Saint demands, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.

  Incredulously, I ask, “You clearly don’t see us as having anything more than what we have right now? Some hot fucking while I help you take Mercier down?”

  I try to pull my hand away, but Saint squeezes hard to keep it. “I didn’t ask for your help, Sin.”

  “Maybe not,” I fling back, yanking hard to extricate myself from his grip. “But you made it impossible for me not to. You’re the one wh
o told me what you were doing here. You could have kept me in the dark… and I’d have been none the wiser. You could have fucking kept your hands to yourself—”

  “You came onto me first,” he points out.

  “Seriously?” I ask, pissed he would say something so juvenile. “You could have said ‘no’. Shown an ounce of restraint.”

  Saint makes a growling sound of frustration. “Look… I’m trying to keep you safe. I’m trying to look out for you. Why are you so mad?”

  He’s right—I am mad—but then it all flows out of me and I’m left feeling sad. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re going to such great lengths to look out for me since I don’t think I’m much more than a good fuck to you.”

  “Christ, Sin,” he explodes. People at the next table swing wide eyes our way. Saint immediately notices, lowering his voice. “You are more than a fuck, and you know it. But what you are exactly, I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out. Right now, I’m more worried about keeping us alive through all of this… and you’re wanting me to plan our future together.”

  “No, Saint,” I reply calmly. “That’s not what I’ve been asking you to do. I’m merely asking if you see a potential future because all I’m hearing is you want me and my dad to disappear while you go back to your life in the States.”

  “Just trying to discuss options, Sin.” His words are soft, obviously trying to diffuse the emotion with his tone.

  It makes me feel small and weak that he thinks he has to put on kid gloves to deal with me.

  I shore up my resolve, making it clear where I stand. “Well, I’m not interested now, nor am I in the future, in an option that has me running from Mercier, so don’t ask again.”

  “Fine,” he replies tersely.

  “Fine,” I snap.

  We glare at each other until Saint has the gall to give me a devilish grin. “I love it when you get mad. Always loved that temper of yours—the way it fires up your eyes. I also seem to remember you and I always had the best angry sex ever.”