“If they’re real con artists,” I said. “And they feel like their con is still intact, they’ll keep it intact for as long as they can. Sounds like they were on the run well before Freya and Sam co-opted their identities. I read through the media reports on the case. Codex was mentioned but not the names Sam and Freya used while undercover.” I crossed my arms across my chest, trying to keep my voice light. “Your typical con artist is part psychopath, part narcissist. They have no conscience. And it means they have a grandiose sense of self. Both of these traits make it likely that Julian and Birdie see no fault in being here in London. If they’re here to con their way into owning the Doyle papers, they believe to their core they have every right to be here.”
A few seconds of silence followed.
“I think you’re fucking right,” Freya said. We exchanged a tiny smile. Providing even the smallest insight to this team felt important in a way I couldn’t name yet.
“I think you’re right too,” Henry said. “And I think the world of book thieves is too small, and Bernard’s role too powerful, for the appearance of Julian and Birdie to be random. Because Bernard is the biggest narcissist of them all. He snaps his fingers, and every single thief comes running.”
“Abraham.” The Deputy Director’s voice cut through our conversation like a medieval gong.
“Yes?” Abe asked, weary. He was distracted. I could see his brain working to pull together the final threads.
“Are you close?”
We all knew what he meant.
“The closest we’ve been,” Abe said. “There’s an auction tomorrow. We think Bernard’s making a move. If we don’t grab him, we’ll be grabbing another thief the authorities will be able to use to get to him.”
“And that’s why I sent the email to you,” Andrew said.
“What are you going to tell the Bureau?” Sam asked.
“I don’t believe I have anything to report given that this call went to voicemail and we never actually spoke,” he said. “Correct?”
Abe released a sarcastic-sounding breath. And he grinned slowly. “Correct.”
“And Sam?” Andrew asked.
“Yes, sir?”
“Just give me a call when you get him.”
41
Sloane
I woke to sun slanting across my pillow. I caught the time—just past 6:00 am—and swung my hand out to the space next to me. Which was empty.
Rubbing my hand across my face, I sat up, blinked again. The door to the balcony was open, the smell of fresh coffee wafting in, and it didn’t take much to guess that Abe Royal was probably sitting out there, admiring the view, and thinking about today.
The day.
The day we were officially going after Bernard. And with the unofficial approval of the Deputy Director of the FBI.
There was a murmuring to my left—Delilah, talking in her sleep. She and Henry had fallen asleep on the bed next to ours while Freya and Sam had crashed out on the trundle bed and couch. The room had the appearance of the morning after a college party; people sprawled out, snoring, having only gone to bed a few hours earlier. Jacked up on adrenaline and slightly nervous after being chased by guards, the entire Codex team had crashed in our room after discussing plans and strategies for tonight’s big event. Running a hand through my snarled hair, I looked around at these four detectives who were already sneaking their way into my heart.
On the deck, Abe sat in a chair with a cup of coffee, staring at the view with a distracted, nervous look. The newly duplicitous organ in my chest slammed against my rib cage at the sight of him with sleep-tousled hair and a hint of stubble. After the rest of the team had fallen asleep, he had dragged me against his chest and cradled me there all night—nose against the crown of my head, arms wrapped tight. I had dropped immediately into a sweet, dreamless sleep.
I padded barefoot across the deck and gave him a silly smile. “Good morning, man-on-vacation.”
Abe swung me onto his lap and buried his face in my hair. “Good morning, Ms. Argento.”
His voice was scratchy with sleep, and exhaustion was etched around his eyes. “Let me guess,” I said. “You stayed awake and watched over everyone last night.”
“Leaders protect their team,” he said, nonchalant. There was nothing nonchalant about this man guarding the people he was afraid to fully love. “And you’re awake early.”
“Who can sleep on such a big day?” I said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
He rested his chin on my shoulder and stared past me. We sat in silence for a minute, gently rocking back and forth. The chaos of our instant attraction was as multi-dimensional as a diamond, dazzling and sharp, electric and erotic. But then soft and muted, comfortable and safe. Abe held me tighter, and I nuzzled my lips against his temple.
“What’s wrong?” I asked quietly.
“What if I made a mistake?” he asked. “My whole team flies here. We get all excited that we’re going to capture this mastermind who has evaded prosecution for years. The Deputy Director of the goddamn FBI puts his complete faith in me. And everything, all of it, could be for nothing.” Another pause, another gentle rock. “What kind of person does that? Keeps hunting a white whale that won’t be found?”
For a while, we watched pedestrians on their way to work, buses and cars, the opening of shops. All the normal things that occur on the morning before a busy Friday.
“I used to steal from my parents,” I said, gulping around my usual resistance to share. His body went taut, face turning toward mine. “There was a summer where we worked amusement parks for fast cash. There’s no real skill to that con, just taking advantage of people who are sun-drunk and happy and usually have lots of cash in their pockets.”
That summer I remembered watching those close-knit families, out for the day to simply have fun together, and not understanding how they existed. The more I saw them—the laughter, the teasing, chasing each other with ice cream cones—the more my brain went into freak-out mode. Something’s not right. Not about them. About me.
“My parents were running this photography scheme,” I said. “They took photos while copying people’s credit card and personal information to use for stealing identities. Later, they’d unleash me on people waiting in those long rollercoaster lines and watch me like a hawk as I pickpocketed loose cash. Working like that, working fast, you’re not grabbing a certain amount of cash, you’re grabbing whatever bill you can pinch between your fingers. So I’d slip out hundreds of dollars without the person knowing.” I paused, remembering how powerful I felt to finally control even the tiniest amount of my destiny. “I couldn’t give it all back. I needed my parents to believe I was earning my keep. But in the intervening seconds between the mark’s pockets, my fingers, and my parents’ hands, I’d steal what I could from the pile and return it.”
Abe’s brow furrowed, and I couldn’t read the look in his eye. “That sounds very dangerous given what your parents’ reaction could have been.”
I smiled, a little sad. “I didn’t have anything else to do as a kid besides practice. And it made me feel good. It was small change, literally, what I could return to them. But in our quest to balance the scales of justice, every act shifts the weight.”
His hand idly stroked up and down my spine. “If we don’t catch him tonight, we tip the scales the wrong way.”
“If we don’t catch him tonight,” I countered. “It’s only because we’ve caught someone else in his chain of criminals. Maybe it’s a smaller shift. It’s still a shift.” I leaned in, kissed the tip of his nose. “And given the extraordinary circumstances that have put you and I on this path, together, twelve hours away from going after what we want the most…” I shook my head. “I’m not a person who believes in fate. But something big is going to happen tonight. Can’t you feel it?”
His gray eyes searched mine. “I feel it,” he murmured. He leaned in to steal a kiss, fingers sliding through my hair to hold me still. My lips parted, my to
ngue met his, I inhaled the scent of his skin and the roughness of his rare stubble. “I feel it,” he repeated, this time with lips caressing mine.
“Well, good fucking morning,” Delilah said from the doorway, startling us both. I jumped and laughed when Freya appeared next to her, both of them clapping.
“Good thing you got that shared hotel room for you and Sloane, boss,” Freya smirked. “You know, for safety purposes or whatever.”
“Am I to be accosted by my agents on my own vacation?” Abe asked.
Delilah snorted. “A hundred pots of coffee are on their way to our room. And breakfast.”
Freya tapped her chin with a scowl. “And I don’t mean to be the Abe of the group, but my colleagues are out here necking when we only have the biggest case of our lives to solve.”
Abe’s valiant effort not to laugh dissolved—and his husky morning laughter curled my toes.
I stood, dragging Abe with me. “Come now, Mr. Royal. It’s a beautiful day to right the scales of justice.”
42
Abe
7:01 p.m., and I was out of the shower, slicking my hair back and studying the face of a man whose criminal obsession was finally—maybe—coming true tonight.
The auction began at 8:00, and the six of us were set to leave for our various positions in twenty-nine minutes. Henry, in disguise, would stake out Mycroft’s Pub, which allowed him to watch Adler’s. Sloane and I were playing a fancy couple out on the town, strolling past 221B Baker Street. Delilah was attending the auction tonight—at this point, she was the only Codex member who didn’t have the potential to be recognized.
Freya and Sam would be hiding out in the parking lot at the Kensley Auction House, waiting to grab people or call the cops or chase down suspects. It wasn’t a perfect plan by any means, but the six of us would be covering as many hot spots as we could to cast the biggest net we were able.
I knew now that Sloane and I would have never pulled this off on our own. The team was necessary. Always.
As usual, Codex had sprung into quick action after we’d gorged ourselves on breakfast and coffee. The relaxed laughter and conversation as we ate was a necessary balm to my spiky nerves. As was seeing Sloane open for them the way she had for me. I behaved and kept my hands off of her all day. I still took enormous pleasure and strength from the smiles she’d flash me like bolts of heat lightning. The euphoric rush was the same.
Call me when you get him.
I scrubbed my face down the towel, accepting I was going to be a nervous goddamn wreck the entire night. Heart hammering, chest tight, I tied the towel around my waist and walked out of the bathroom—only to be killed dead on the spot by the goddess.
“You’ll certainly stand out in that,” I managed.
Sloane turned slowly, lipstick raised, and smiled like a pin-up model. “You told me to dress nicely. This is nice.”
“You and I must have varying definitions of nice.”
She stood completely naked in front of the dresser mirror in nothing but silver stiletto heels, bent close to apply a scarlet color to her lips. Her body was a display of shadow and light, full curves and strong muscle, mysteries and secrets. All that raven hair was secured in a bun, revealing her profile, baring her neck. I had no choice but to drink in her astonishing beauty, to fall prey, yet again, to her captivating spirit.
“How much time do we have before we need to leave?” she asked.
“Twenty-seven minutes.”
Her lingering perusal of my mostly naked body made it obvious why she was asking. Tonight was no night for distraction. She and I both knew that in our bones.
“Pity,” she said. Her widening smile was less flirtatious and much, much more emotional.
Can’t you feel it?
I let my towel drop, enjoyed her hungry perusal as I pulled on black briefs over my extremely obvious erection. Sloane reached for a long chain necklace and moved to drop it over her head.
“Wait,” I said. I walked until I stood directly behind her, our eyes meeting and holding in the mirror. “Allow me.”
With precision, I dropped the chain between her naked breasts, dragged it along her skin before finally clasping it at the nape of her neck. My fingers gripped the back of her neck possessively, squeezing once.
“Thank you,” she said, voice extra smoky.
I curled my fingers in the lacy fabric of her underwear. Holding them up, I said, “May I?”
“Please,” she replied, turning around to face me. I was back on my knees again for Sloane, staring at her in complete and total adoration. She stepped carefully into the fabric, and I slowly slid it past her ankles, along her calves, past her knees. My fingers lingered, stroked as they moved higher. Higher still. If I gave into temptation and pressed my face to her cunt, we’d never leave this room. But I did press a fairly filthy kiss to the inside of her thigh as I finally positioned her underwear where they were supposed to be. I exhaled, feathered my breath across her stomach, dragging my mouth along her hip bones. Her fingers roamed my hair, sifting the still-wet strands.
“Now you,” she said, nodding at my pants. With a wolfish grin, I stood and slipped them on. Sloane hooked her fingers in the belt loops and yanked me over, zipping my pants with her own feline smirk.
“Are suits the only thing you wear, Mr. Royal?” she asked. Her fingers traced down my chest, danced along my ribcage.
“One of the many things past girlfriends have been annoyed by,” I said. I selected a bracelet from the dresser, grabbed her wrist. “I believe the actual charges against me were ‘never has fun.’” I draped the silver over her skin, clasped it. Raised her wrist to my mouth to kiss it. “Letting go is hard for me. The only way I survived what happened with my mother was by exacting a precise control. Fun will exist once I’m done fixing all the wrong in this world.”
Sloane held out my crisp white shirt. The hotel had gone above and beyond laundering and drying our soaked clothing. As I slid my arms into the sleeves, she pulled the material up my shoulders. Smoothed her hand down the strip of chest and stomach still bare.
“Control feels safer,” she said. “I get it.”
I knew she did.
She closed each button with deliberate movements, midnight eyes glued to mine. “How often do you indulge in sex with strangers?”
I caressed the side of her face with my fingers. “When needed. How about you?”
“When needed,” she repeated. Smiled. Shirt closed, I tucked it in, handed her my belt. The confident way she handled the leather gave me too many erotic fantasies.
“Tie,” she said, palm outstretched. I placed the silk material between her fingers, allowed a mostly naked Sloane to knot my tie. Again.
“Do you dress the men you sleep with?” I asked—a bite of rare jealousy in my words.
“That would imply I was there long enough to do anything except get what I came for and then leave,” she said. Tie fixed, she stepped back to examine its precision. I looped my arm around her waist and yanked her back into me.
“Why do it for me?” I asked, mouth lingering near hers.
Her lips curved seductively—the color of a poisoned apple, delicious and sinful in equal measure. “Because it’s you.”
The fortress around my heart wouldn’t be able to take such a skilled dismantling much longer.
She handed me the hanger from which a long red dress hung. I dropped to my knees again, and her hands landed on my shoulders as she stepped inside the pool of scarlet fabric. Her expression was stripped bare of anything but raw honesty. “I find it interesting that the two of us crave control. But whatever is happening between us is pure fucking chaos. And fun.”
I laughed softly, nuzzled my cheek against her leg. “You’re having fun with me?”
“The most fun I’ve ever had,” she said. “Aren’t you?”
I analyzed the teasing lightness I had in my chest whenever Sloane was around, the desire to show her things, tell her things, whisk her away to wild and e
xotic vacations. “Very much so,” I said—voice rough at the edges. I slipped her dress up her thighs, over the swell of her ass, along her ribcage, rising rapidly with breath. At her bare breasts, I moved the fabric softly over her hard nipples, tying the straps behind her neck.
She looked down at herself. “How do I look?”
“You are the most enchanting creature I have ever seen,” I said. I bent down, kissed her cheek. “Chaos personified.” Hands on her shoulders, I turned her toward the mirror so she could see herself.
“What I can’t figure out,” I continued. “Is why I’m craving this type of chaos for the first time in my life. My life was strict order before you came along. I can’t get enough of you.”
I smoothed my arms around her waist and kissed her throat.
“Racing headlong into passion is something I’ve never done before,” she whispered. Sloane and I weren’t the kind of people who eagerly shared their feelings. I recognized this as a verbal sidestep to ‘I like you a lot.’
“I’m happy we’re racing together,” I said, knowing she’d understand my own sidestep.
“I think whatever this is,” she said. “Is different. It’s why it feels so important.” She swallowed, paused. “So… life-changing.”
Talk about a gift I never wanted to stop opening—Sloane’s shy vulnerability was enough to repeatedly bring me to my knees.
“Tonight,” she continued. “Whatever happens, we do it together. Like we said.” She held my hands tightly.
“Together,” I promised. “And I’m still here, chaos and all.”
“And I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.
43
Sloane
In the Clear (Codex Book 3) Page 28