by K. A. Tucker
I dare peek around the edge. And giggle. Luke’s head is bowed and pressed up against the glass. Track pants don’t hide much.
I switch off the lights and spend the next hour spying on Luke, as he attempts to get his usual crunches and push-ups in and ends up heading into the shower.
I probably shouldn’t have done that.
Chapter 27
■ ■ ■
LUKE
“Fucking Russians!” Rust slams the office door behind him as he storms in. “Where’s Miller?”
“Said he had to go on a parts run. Didn’t want to wait for the delivery guy anymore. Why? What’s up?” Rust sounds more agitated than he was when he called last night, trying to drag me out to The Cellar to talk.
Rust shakes his head. “Just got off the phone with Andrei about the Ferrari.”
Shit. So they did figure it out. “I knew that was going to come back and bite us. What’d you say?”
“The truth. That they didn’t want to do business with us so we were forced to go elsewhere.”
“And?”
“And now they’re claiming another five percent upcharge for handling fees for the next shipment. Something about needing to bribe more officials. Plus he said the orders will be light for the next round.”
“You told them to go to hell, right?”
Miller’s chair protests with a loud creak as Rust drops into it, his forehead in his hands. “Not yet. I’ve got to figure out the right way to handle them.”
“Fuck ’em! We’re taking all the risk and they’re undercutting us. We’ve already got another pipeline, remember?”
“And I’ve already told you, it’s not that easy. If I just stop doing business with them, this could get ugly, Luke.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
Rust sighs, his hard gaze locked on the gray-tiled floor. “I’m not sure yet, to be honest. They need us if they want this organization working for them, and it’s a smooth-running operation. I just can’t figure out why they’re dicking me around so much.” He groans loudly, and then slaps the desk, which I know means he’s switching gears to something else. That’s Rust. He doesn’t get too bogged down with one problem. He keeps his focus and things move at a fast pace. That’s why he’s so successful. “So you’re going up to the Astoria warehouse this week?”
“Yeah. Rodriguez has a few chopped cars to unload.” The second part of my role—driving to the warehouse to accept an order and pay Rodriguez—makes the phone calls seem like a piece of cake. I’ve only had to do it once so far. My hands were cramped by the time I got home, from gripping the steering wheel so tight. I’ve never felt relief like I did after parking Rust’s truck and getting back into my car. Done with it.
“Okay. I’ll send you the code to the gate. Let me know what time you’re going up.”
My phone begins ringing. Aref’s name flashes across the screen. “Speak of the devil.” Aref’s obviously not using a burner phone, so it must not be about the Ferrari. “Just give me the word, Rust.”
He hesitates and then nods. “Talk to him. See exactly what he’s looking for. In person.” He holds a finger of warning up. “But don’t commit to anything.”
I nod my understanding to Rust, the receiver to my ear already. “Hey, buddy. How’s the pretentious scotch?”
“Still pretentious,” Aref’s smooth English-laced accent answers with a laugh.
“Were your ears burning? Rust and I were just talking about you.” I give my uncle a salute as he leaves.
“Only good things, I hope.”
“Always. What can I do for you?”
“Elmira and I are hosting a few friends on our yacht this weekend. We were hoping you and your woman could attend.”
My woman. I smile. Is she mine? Does she want to be?
“It’ll be an overnight sail along the Columbia River. We’ll stay in the mouth, given the water’s too choppy beyond that at this time of year. What do you say?”
“Sounds perfect.” For more than one reason.
Chapter 28
■ ■ ■
CLARA
I’ve never seen Warner’s brow quite so furrowed. “Anything closer than that and we risk being spotted.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“They likely wouldn’t do anything until you’re in deeper waters. It’ll be twenty minutes to reach you, if we gun it.”
I laugh it off to alleviate my handler’s worries, even as mine linger. “Relax. If so much as a hair on the back of my neck spikes, I’ll fake a stomach bug and grab one of the Jet Skis. It’s that simple.” Luke’s too genuine to be able to hide his suspicions of me, I remind myself. He has no clue.
But what about Aref?
Luke said that the billionaire businessman, who must be a part of this ring, specifically asked that he bring me. Has Aref discovered who I really am? He’d have to have a ton of money and powerful connections to crack through the agency’s undercover operations files. But, based on what I saw of him, if anyone could pull it off, it would be Aref.
“Relax, Warner. This is a great opportunity to get intel. Drinking, intimate setting. Seriously, I’ll be okay.” After a pause, I add, “Sinclair seems to think so.” I’ve already had a call from the big boss telling me as much.
Warner folds his arms over his chest, his jaw tense. “He called you again?”
“Like you said, he wants to win this case.”
Warner answers with a head shake, clearly unimpressed. His eyes drift down to the plunging neckline of my red silk dress. Luke warned me beforehand that the invitation calls for formal attire; that Elmira likes to go all out when she throws these “little gatherings.” I feel ridiculous, leaving the condo dressed like this mid-afternoon. “Did you get your own cabin, at least?”
I wonder if Warner’s like this with all his female undercovers. My gut is beginning to tell me that he isn’t. That the extra attention, the way he drops everything for me—including his girlfriend’s sister’s wedding—may have less to do with his devotion to the job and more about an interest in me. It’s too bad I just don’t feel the same way about him. Maybe I would, if I weren’t on this case. Maybe when I’m done with it, things will change.
“I don’t know, big brother. I’ll figure it out. That’s the least of my worries.” A conflicting storm of trepidation and excitement brews inside me. Luke’s words from the other night rang true—I know he meant what he said about not pushing me—but will it be the same when I’m lying next to him in a bed?
And how exactly will I feel?
I stoop down to scratch Stanley’s ears. “You be good for Uncle Jack, you hear?” Stanley responds with a yelp and a few licks of my hand. “See? He’s okay with me going. Be like Stanley.”
“You want me to lick you?”
I smack his stomach. “And if I don’t come back with the yacht, Stanley’s all yours.”
Warner glowers at me.
■ ■ ■
“We’re so happy you could join us, Rain.” Elmira somehow manages to make her London accent sound seductive. She’s in another long, flowing dress, this one as black as her hair. A plunging neckline and smattering of diamonds hanging from a gold chain diminish the fact that she has next to no curves.
She certainly has the princess genes in her.
“Thank you for inviting us,” I offer as a man in an all-white suit swoops in to collect my overnight bag wordlessly.
“Cabin Five, please, Gabriel,” Elmira directs him with a graceful wave of her delicately toned arm. “And our other guest will be in Cabin Six, right across the hall.”
I glance back to watch Gabriel slip Luke’s bag from his hand, admiring the tailored silver-gray suit he arrived in at my condo.
“Luke said you may be more comfortable with your own room,” Elmira explains, a curious flicker in h
er obsidian eyes.
“If it’s not putting anyone out.”
“We have just enough room.” She pauses. “You look surprised about these arrangements.”
The truth is, I’m floored. This guy is given the perfect excuse to get into bed with me for a night, use the old “Oops. Sorry, I was asleep,” cop-a-feel move, and he’s not using it? In fact, I’m sure he’s setting himself up for a lot of inappropriate questions and obnoxious comments, if these men are an eighth of what the guys I work with are like.
“Come.” She turns up the stairs to the second deck, giving me the view of her bare, slender back. It’s way too cold to be dressed like that. “We’ll be setting off shortly. Let me introduce you to everyone.”
I follow her, pausing to glance back once. To find Luke’s eyes on me.
■ ■ ■
“She couldn’t decide between the Tuscan villa or a cottage in Provence, so I just bought her both,” the blond drones, taking an extra-long sip of her Champagne, perched on the edge of the couch.
“Your mom’s lucky to have such a generous daughter,” the redhead next to her says, eyeing her freshly painted blood-red lipstick in her compact.
Half an hour sitting on this couch and all I’ve heard about is how much money these people have and how much they spend, how frivolously. Maybe that’s why I’ve somehow managed to pour three glasses of Champagne down my throat, despite being mindful. In fact, I’m in need of a refill. It’s going to be a long night, and I should be more careful.
At least I’ve had no indication—no odd looks, no whispers, no anything—to suggest I should be worried about a late-night dive with an anchor tied to me. Yet.
I haven’t learned one valuable piece of information, relegated to the wives’ circle while the men congregate on the upper deck. Is this how it always is with these guys? Wives dependent on their husbands for their money, sipping on Cristal while the men make their covert deals. At least, I assume that’s what they’re doing up there. Successful criminals are successful because they’re always looking for the next opportunity. If they’d put that kind of dedication toward a legitimate life, most would still do quite well.
I want to slap each and every one of these women’s faces. Even Elmira sits with them, quiet but smiling, her attention seemingly riveted to the vapid circle of chatter.
“Excuse me.” I wave my empty glass in the air as I make my way over to the server. There are several staff onboard, graceful ghosts who appear with food and drink at the right moment before disappearing into the background once again.
I can’t go back to that pit of shallow minds, but simply storming in on Luke may not be the smoothest option. So I instead wander over to the rail and admire the coastline in twilight, my last chance before everything is shrouded in darkness. Astoria’s city lights line the water’s edge in the distance, and beyond them is the jagged border of the mountains.
A gentle rocking and cool breeze makes me pull my jacket tight to my body. The entire afternoon traveling up the Columbia River from Aref and Elmira’s palatial North Portland home has been . . . enchanting. Hours of nothing but scenic views—valleys and forestry and inlets—has made me struggle at times to remember why I’m here to begin with. And that there is a cover team following along the coastline in a car, worried about getting to me before my body is tossed overboard.
Even with my heightened senses, the exponential increase in danger, I’ll miss this when I’m back in Washington, D.C., knocking on cheap motel doors again.
“Have you ever driven along it?” Elmira sidles up to me, her gaze settling on the Astoria–Megler Bridge ahead, a four-mile-long architectural masterpiece highlighted by the purple sky. A full drink in her hand, a slight swagger in her movements. She’s drunk. I may be slightly tipsy too, but I can handle myself better than most.
“Not yet.”
“You should have Luke take you. Great views. There are plenty of beautiful pictures to take from up there.” She pauses. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No.” I give her the thirty-second cover story spiel. It comes so naturally to me that I almost believe it myself now.
“I’ve never been to Washington, D.C. I hear it’s nice.”
“It’s nothing like this.”
“Will you be staying long, then?”
“Not sure.” Depends how secretive your husband and Luke are.
She nods slowly. “I’m heading back to London in July.”
“With Aref?”
She sighs. “Depends on what kind of business he stirs up here. His family’s company is well run and he gets bored easily. He’s been very bored as of late.”
Bored. A great excuse for risking felony charges. Idiot. I should never be surprised and yet I always am.
“You’ve thrown a nice party,” I offer genuinely.
“That’s what I do. Throw parties,” she murmurs dryly, sipping from her glass.
A loud, unattractive howl sounds behind us and we both glance at the three overdone women laughing on the couch.
“They certainly like everyone to know how much money they have, don’t they?” Elmira muses, a derisive smirk touching her lips.
“I’ve noticed.”
“People who grow up with nothing and suddenly have everything don’t know how to behave around it. They end up looking like cheap reproductions and sounding like tacky fools. I wish they were forced into charm school before being handed any checks.”
Interesting thing to say about the guests at her party. “So they’re really not your friends?”
“I tolerate them. They’re certainly not like me. Or you.”
I fight the urge to laugh, and give myself a pat on the back for fooling even the born-and-bred wealthy likes of Elmira.
She glances up to the third deck, to the male-dominated party. “Aref does business with these people, so I play nice and don’t let them see me cringe at every asinine comment that comes out of their mouths.”
I smile. “I have a few relationships like that.” That basically sums up my life, listening to and laughing at what scumbags have to say while I set them up for a takedown. Luke is the first target that doesn’t make me cringe. That I actually look forward to seeing.
With a sly grin, she turns her back to the water to face the group, dropping her voice. “The blond in the blue dress? The one chattering on about buying houses for her mom? That’s Laurel. She was an escort. That’s how she met Philip. He paid her to suck his cock and I guess it was true love.”
I choke on a mouthful of Champagne, hearing such a crass word come from such seemingly refined lips. “Really . . .”
A wicked giggle escapes her. “And Celia? The redhead? She was the nanny, hired by the wife. Broke the marriage up when the baby was just five months old. Her real name is Peggy-Sue but she changed it about a year ago. Said Celia sounds more distinguished.”
I meet her impish grin with one of my own. “I like this game. What else you got?” This may be easier than I thought.
Her face twists. “The big bald man standing on the other side of Luke? He spends one night a week at the RiverPlace hotel with his boyfriend. His wife, Carla—the curvy one in the black lace dress—has no clue, but that could be because she’s too busy fucking the seventeen-year-old pool boy, so . . .”
“So cliché,” I joke, an edge of unease sliding its way in. This is the kind of stuff surveillance teams pick up. “You seem to know an awful lot about everyone.”
“Aref makes it his job to know who he’s going into business with.”
And the people around them, obviously. I feel her dark eyes on me as I take a calm sip, training my focus on Luke while my senses go into overdrive. What exactly is Elmira telling me right now? Has Aref been looking into me? What could he possibly find out? Not much. I’ve stayed in role. But I think back to that comment earlier, ab
out taking photos on the bridge . . . It could have been coincidence, or it could be a hint that they know about my classes.
That they’ve been following me.
Suddenly I’m gauging the depth of the water and distance to the shore, wondering if I could actually make it down to the Jet Skis in time, wishing I were a stronger swimmer. But I can’t think like that. I have to assume nothing. Playing the curious new girlfriend is the only direction I can take. “Any juicy info on Luke that I should know about?”
The breeze carries her low, throaty chuckle as we both turn back to face the dark waters. “Well, you definitely don’t have to worry about where his preferences lay.”
“That’s good. What else?”
She sips her drink slowly, her words deliberate. “He’s too trusting, wouldn’t you say?”
I struggle to keep my face stoic, even as I feel the blood drain from it. “I don’t know about that. I do know that he really likes your husband.”
“Aref can charm anyone he needs to in order to get what he wants. He is, first and foremost, a businessman. There’s a reason he and his family are so wealthy.” She pauses. “Luke likes Aref because Aref wants to be liked.”
I frown at her warning tone. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. “Are you saying he shouldn’t trust Aref?”
Dark eyes flicker to me. “I’m saying that Luke may be getting in over his head, and that is not a good place to be with these people.”
A sinking feeling hits the pit of my stomach. Is Luke in danger? “Why are you—”
I gasp as strong arms suddenly wrap around my body.
Chapter 29
■ ■ ■
LUKE
Two hours of listening to these guys talk world politics and business is about all I can take. Partly because I’m not interested, but mostly because I have no fucking clue what these guys are talking about. Islamic rule? A Scottish referendum? North Korean missile launches?