“Yes.” A whimper.
“You will also call your mum and tell her you’re taking a holiday somewhere you’ve always wanted to visit.”
“Yes.”
“And Jorge…” bloodshot pupils stare back at me, the pain on his features prominent “…I’m going to thank you ahead of time for your cooperation. Now, please try and relax. It’s going to be a long day.”
35
I’m outside the penthouse door, leaning against a wall, when Casper steps out. My eyes are on my cell, reading my last text exchange with Aliana three months ago. It was a silly argument over a TV show character’s death, and she’d been pissed by my nonchalance. But that’s one of the things I love about her; she’s passionate in every aspect of her life, even something as mundane as a television series. “Took you long enough, mate.”
“You consider this late?” At his reply, my eyes snap to his. His are on my mobile, trying to catch a glimpse of the photo of her flipping me off, but before he can make her out, I pocket the device. He’ll know soon enough. The world will.
I never wanted to hide us but did so because Aliana wasn’t ready.
And when she was taken, Casper was busy. Our conversations have been stilted at best, but I understand more than anyone what the safety of the woman you love means to you. He dismantled and rebuilt the Boston syndicate, eliminating every single threat to the Cancio name, and then handed their heads to Aurora and her father on a silver platter.
I can’t fault him for that.
“I can always head back inside and slip beneath the covers and violate—”
“Shut it,” I snap, a shudder of disgust running through me. Disgusting arse. “Aurora’s like a sister, you wanker. I don’t need to hear that shit.”
“Noted.” Casper’s chuckle grates on my nerves, but I’ve missed the condescending sound just as much. Aliana has made me soft. He checks his pocket, taking account of all placements, and then adjusts the custom gun holsters I got him last Christmas. “Lead the way.”
“You told her where to meet up with your dad in case of...?”
“Gem knows everything.” There are no secrets between them; she’s aware in the same capacity Aliana will be. A way of thinking we share.
Nodding, I turn toward the elevator and press the down button before pulling out a small remote. I toss it at him. “This is for the cameras on this floor. You have them blocked, no?”
He takes it, turning the fob in his hand. “The hotel’s security is circulating the feed from last night; I paid them handsomely for their discretion and compliance. Inside, though, my own devices are on. Everything is being recorded.”
A snort escapes me at that. “Did this compliance come with a threat attached?”
“Would I be me if it didn’t?”
“Touché.” Tilting my head at the device, I send him a meaningful look. This is part of the just in case precautions. “That will send you a direct feed of this door. Add it to the app dashboard that Ezra set up on your mobile... it’s my Valentine’s gift to you.”
“Very thoughtful, love.”
“Piss off.” The elevator signals its arrival, and I flip him off before stepping inside the now open doors. We’re heading toward the parking level where my men wait inside of a black Range Rover with dark windows.
Once inside the vehicles, no one talks. Casper’s attaching the new security system to his app while I go over every detail Jorge shared before taking his last painful breath. Because I beat him—brought him to the brink of death multiple times in the last seventy-two hours, only to start all over again.
He bled for his sins. He told me something very interesting about the item they want Aliana to steal.
Countries have secrets.
Many countries pay handsomely to hide them on foreign soil in hopes of no one ever finding proof of their dirty deeds. The United Kingdom and Spain are two of those countries; interchanging classified information to avoid anarchy amongst their people.
There’s money involved in that. A lot of it.
Power too.
The drive to the port isn’t long, and when it comes into view, I hand Casper a small stack of papers. My driver passes the parking lot and drives straight through; he knows where to go, while the others stay alert. These are men my cousin isn’t too familiar with; the other Collado brothers being two of them.
Contract killers from Spain I’ve hired on a long-term basis, something they were pleased with since Mauro is my weapons supplier. We’re keeping it all in the family. And with them, once a contract is signed, nothing will break it.
“Read it and tell me what you see,” I say, my tone leaving no room for jokes at the moment. Right now, he’s not my cousin. I’m in charge.
Nothing will fuck up a job more than lack of focus.
“Okay.” His eyes scan the top sheet with the artifact’s picture and estimated worth in both legal avenues and the black market. The numbers are high. Ostentatiously, which could mean one of two things: others know what’s hidden inside, or it’s a set up by Interpol.
The second sheet holds the schematic, weight, number of people working the dock tonight, and the container ship’s number. Then, he flips to the last and his brows furrow. I know what he’s looking at—it’s a picture of the thief. My Aliana.
They show a thin person wearing all black with a demon’s mask covering her face. However, there are two things you can’t hide from me; the brown hair even if the length is off—and the small tattoo she got while in London of a black whip on her wrist.
It’s her idea of a corny joke. She holds the whip in our relationship.
Funny thing is, she does. That woman owns me.
The next picture is of a man I don’t recognize, and he’s not a part of their family either. He’s either someone they know in Nicaragua or was brought in to do a job. These images came from a small memory drive on Jorge’s keys Giannis went through and saved what was important, before demanding to know what they’d done to her. He’s grown on me, to say the least.
What came out of Jorge’s mouth next is why I lost one of my favorite hunting knives that day. I drove the blade so hard into his skull that the handle broke and we had to bring in a butcher to remove it.
“Two different people here. A couple?”
“Possibly.” No. My jaw clenches, leg shaking. He knows my tells. “Don’t give me that look, Casper. I need your help to confirm my suspicions.”
“Okay. You know the risks attached to your request.”
“I can’t let her get hurt.” Once those six words are out, I know they change everything. He’ll do for me what I did for him. “I’m asking as your best mate. If she’s involved…if she’s really here today, I need to get her the fuck out.”
“Done.” Papers down, he holds up both hands. “The right one means in and out without incident. The left is we tear the bloody place apart and walk out with everything, and this time it includes the artifact they are here to steal.”
“This one depends.”
“On the why?”
“On what it means to her.” If she wants me to break it into a million pieces, I’ll do so happily. If she wants to live dangerously by my side, I’ll marry her tomorrow. “You in?”
“I’d never let you go in alone, wanker.” The car stops behind a stack of old containers for shipping overseas—the area seems empty, devoid of security, but we know better. Casper spots a flashlight skimming along the ground; he rolls down his window and aims in their direction. “Ours, or not?”
A low whistle rends the air, and I snort. “Ours. It’s Archie.”
“He’s a good lad.”
“A little psychotic too.” All doors open and we step out. The smell of salt in the air is crisp, as is the wind coming off the water.
Archie stops before us, hands full of uniforms similar to what he’s wearing. “Good to see you, Mr. Jameson.” Casper shakes his hand while I take a port overall for myself. These are customary for all employees worki
ng the unloading zone. “It’s a busy night and all hands are on deck—bobbies and every other department they could swing this way. Bloody bastards are watching every entry point for movement, but they missed this section due to it not being used and the museum’s director wanting them to surround the piece until it’s inside the armored car waiting to transfer.”
“How many in total out there?” my cousin asks, slipping on his own uniform.
“About fifty, and twenty of them work for us. Those handling are all under payroll.” Archie looks at his watch and then back at me. “You two will walk toward the armored truck, slide your ID, and pretend to go to the bathroom to clean up afterward.”
“We have our change in the truck?” I’m smearing mechanic’s grease across my face, making sure to look dingy before handing over the tub to Casper. Our hands are filthy now and our faces have enough to dissuade others from looking our way, especially when we put on hats with the company’s logo.
“Yes, sir. Everything is there.”
“Good job, mate.” Turning to look at the brothers, I give them a pointed look. There can be no fuckups here. If Aliana gets hurt because of someone’s stupidity, their families will pay. “Everyone knows where to meet after. Be there by five, or we come looking. No one will be left behind. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
“We are taking the truck?” Casper claps me on the shoulder. He knows I’m worried. Knows how this feels.
Nothing will make this right until I have her in my arms again.
“Yes.”
“You’re banking on her being inside.”
Not a question, but I nod anyway. “She’s smart. Way smarter than me, and I know that stealing this from beneath the watchful eyes of Scotland Yard and Interpol won’t be easy, but sneaking onto an isolated truck isn’t impossible. We know this. They’ll watch and track all movement while outside, but once inside behind a locked door, they always become sloppy.”
“Underneath the truck?”
“Or above.”
“We’ll help her, bro. You know I’m here for you.”
I’m not the biggest sentimental bloke with my family, but in that moment, I turn and give my cousin a quick hug. It catches him off guard, but he squeezes me just as hard before we pull apart. “Thank you, and I apologize ahead of time. It’ll all make sense soon, and I understand now your reaction when it came to Aurora. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill for her, and if shit goes south, I’ll give my life for hers.”
“It won’t come to that. Trust me.”
We bump fists, and then it’s all work. No more jokes. No talking.
We walk toward our destination while the commotion on the dock grows in crescendo. Dock workers yell out, and heavy machinery is being used to lift the crate. Every employee is watching that wooden box as if it were the holy grail while ignoring the two men who don’t belong there.
Shouts to be careful fill the night’s sky.
Loud noises follow as machinery lowers and then opens it.
And all while Casper slides in the keycard through the reader, making sure to avoid touching anything. He uses a handkerchief to open the door, and just before we step through, there’s a loud cheer from the unloading zone.
The metal door closes, and all noises cease, especially the low whining noise from the cameras as they move to follow our movement. We don’t look up while I press the scrambler to fuck with the signal, making it impossible for photo detection to play a part in the case when it’s discovered we have it.
The truck is right where Archie said it would be, and we open the cab to find our bulletproof vests and jackets, the holster that these drivers wear, and two badges. Each has a fake name, company IDs, and a pack of gum in mine that Casper raises an eyebrow to.
“It’s her favorite candy and trust me, she’ll freak out. I thought it might make her smile.”
Changing takes seconds, and I jump into the cabin and grab the set of keys along with the lock from the glovebox. I switch the originals to ours before coming back to where I wait.
After a minute, we hear a small thump and low curse. The noise is easily hidden behind the commotions the loading crew makes and the orders being shouted out by the museum director.
“Where are the men driving the decoy?” she suddenly yells out, and the Collado brothers walk forward, changed and with a set of papers in hand. They are dressed like us, and the older of the two makes eye contact through the side mirror as dock employees secure and lock up the artifact. “You two need to split up at the designated intersection. The maps are in the truck.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they answer in unison.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” There’s a hint of a fluster in her voice. It’s softer and husky.
“Of course.” This time it’s the younger of the two who answers, amusement coloring his tone while from my view, his brother’s eyes become hard. The hell? Within minutes, two other engines roar to life and Casper turns the ignition, waiting for the signal to back out and go.
“You okay?” he asks, his face holding concern. My knee bounces and my jaw ticks.
“Two of them.,” is all I can manage through gritting teeth, my eyes on the live feed from inside. Again, two figures. The male and the female; she’s doing all the work, though. Prying the container open with a crowbar to make sure they’re in the right truck. “They came in from the top, and their hope is to be out before we leave. There’s a beam above the truck they could climb out onto, and then escape through a window just below the roof line.”
“Electrical?”
“They haven’t noticed it yet.” As soon as I say this, the man moves to open the exit latch they used to get in and quickly snatches his hand back. All movement stops then for a moment, shock on their faces before they begin to communicate lowly. They’re murmuring to themselves while she waves her hand in a frantic motion.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Seatbelt, and keep your eyes down.” Casper pulls back and out, following the instructions on the pre-set GPS they provided. We’re heading toward the A13 and we’ll deviate paths at the second roundabout, where the Collado brothers will go to a warehouse twenty minutes out and dump these trucks there before blowing each up.
No evidence left behind.
The direction has us driving the main road that connects east and central London, but we’ll disappear at Limehouse Link Tunnel. That’s where our connection will cease and so will all the cameras in this area, not one being able to tail our direction.
And that’s what we do until reaching an open field out in the middle of nowhere.
That’s as long as I can take it, and the second Casper puts the truck in park, I’m rushing toward the back. There are no houses here. No witnesses. My hands shake as I input the code on my lock, and when it beeps, I all but yank the entire thing off its hinges in my rush to see her.
It’s been fucking months.
Brutal and agonizing days where I thought she might be dead.
The doors bang open, and inside two people stand with fear in their eyes. But it’s hers I’m focused on, the pure relief that pours out of her slim body and she sways—grips onto the wooden box to right herself at the sight of me.
“Aliana, come here.” My tone is gravelly. I’m at my limit of patience. “Baby, please.”
“Callum?” The worry at once evaporates, and she breathes out a heavy exhale. The man beside her calms too, as if he knows who we are but is playing a dangerous game of pretend. His clock is ticking. “What are you doing here?”
“Come.” Not that I wait. Before the last syllable passes through my lips, I’m in the truck and have her in my arms. Home. She is home. Our lips meet, her desperation near the same as mine while my hands wander and explore, from the back of her head down to her shoulders and then sides, where I pause. I touch her stomach and a heavy breath leaves me, my eyes cloud with tears. “Venus?”
“I’m three months, I think. We’ve been hiding it best
we could, but my mother…she—”
“It’s okay. I’m here now.”
“She’s my little cousin.” At the sound of the other man’s voice, I whip my head to the side and glare. He shrinks back, pretending to be defenseless. “I couldn’t leave her alone in this.”
“The fuck did you just say? Her cousin?”
“Yes.” He runs a nervous hand across the back of his neck. “I’m on her mother’s side.”
“Is it true, Aliana?”
“No.” Venus’s voice is shaky. “He’s my handler.”
“And who the fuck orchestrated this?”
Casper raises his gun and points it at the git. He pales, shaking his head, hands up in the air.
“Callum, please. I just need to—”
“Who, Venus. Tell me, baby.”
“I can’t.” My face turns to her, and the tears I see there kill me. “It makes it real.”
“Your mum?” Keeping my movement slow, I pull her against me once again. I sway us a little while she lets out a sob, her tiny pregnant body shaking. “Is what Jorge said true? She killed him in front of you?”
“Yes.” Aliana swallows hard, and I’m proud of her for trying to calm herself. The stress she’s been under is something I will never forgive myself for. “After they took us, I woke up tied to a chair across from him. He was beaten, a little bloody, and by those he considered friends and family. Those he protected above me.”
“Can you give me names?”
“I can tell you where they’re all at.”
“Good girl.” I kiss the crown of her head. “They won’t get away with this.”
“It was Rigo, Gaspar, and my mother. Jorge and his wife were also there; they took us, but the latter is dead.”
“Jorge’s wife is dead?” Just to make sure I heard right.
Risqué: Mafia Romance (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 5) Page 28