I sigh. “No clue. I could break into Mercier’s office or home. Maybe dig for information.”
“No,” Kynan growls. “Don’t take a risk like that. You’ve been there for a little over a week. This is probably going to take some patience.”
“And I’m supposed to manage this while our men are getting killed and kidnapped?” I snarl.
“I’m ordering you not to do anything unnecessarily reckless.” His voice is flat but firm, reminding me that he is my boss. “You keep your head down and your eyes open, and you patiently wait until you know what the heist is. Only then will we figure out if further involvement is necessary.”
It’s unclear whether I’m going to participate in whatever heist Mercier is organizing. If I’m supposed to be a part of the master plan, I can’t go AWOL from the team. It would cause too much suspicion. Mercier might even get spooked and call the whole thing off. Jameson most likely won’t ever have this opportunity for an inside man such as myself again.
On the flip side, if I see the entire thing through, there’s a chance I could go down with the entire gang if we’re caught. I’m not doing this under the sanction of any law enforcement agency, after all.
My other phone—the one my new French friends use—starts to ring.
“Look,” I say as I grab it from the nightstand. It’s William, “I have to take this call. Talk later.”
I disconnect the burner, toss it on the mattress, and answer the other phone. “Bellinger.”
“Monsieur Mercier has another job for you,” William shouts. In the background, there’s a loud buzz from a mix of music and people. My guess is he’s at a bar. “It’s in London. Meet me at Margeaux’s at nine tomorrow morning for details.”
London? Christ.
“That’s fine,” I say, not able to hide my annoyance. “But when is this so-called major heist supposed to happen? That’s why I wanted on this crew.”
“It’s coming,” William replies vaguely.
“You know, I could be doing these jobs on my own without having to follow your plans or deal with Mercier’s huge cut of the profits… while making a fuck-ton more money.”
“I get it,” William says, sounding as if he’s mollifying me now. To me, it proves they don’t just want me on the team—they need me. “But you’re not the only newbie Mercier is evaluating. This score we’re aiming for is huge. Several hundred million or more. We need the right people to pull it off, which takes time.”
Several hundred million? Jesus.
“In the meantime, I’m expected to be Mercier’s private thief?” I demand.
“You think the man should stop his business just for you?” William mocks. “Come on, Saint. You know how this works. The kingpin is always at the top.”
I huff an annoyed breath. “Yeah… I know.”
“But I promise it’ll be soon,” William continues. “By the time you finish this London job, we’ll be ready to fine-tune the plan for the big job, then execute it.”
“Fine,” I mutter.
There’s a moment of silence from William, though some punk rock shit blares in the background. Finally, he asks, “How’d it go with Sin? You two good?”
No way does William know what went down between Sin and me a few years ago during our last heist when she’d booted me out of the stolen Jag right when the cops arrived on scene, deliberately setting me up to take the fall. But anyone considered a major player in this line of work knows Sin and I were more than simply partners in crime.
That we’d been in a serious relationship before I’d gotten caught wasn’t a secret.
“We’re good,” I say, smoothing my hand over the sheets I’d fucked her on not half an hour ago.
“All right. That’s good,” William says, his relief evident. “We need Sin on the big project. But she’ll also be on the London job with you. It involves a safe.”
Sin’s one of the best when it comes to lock manipulation. Since whatever we’re going to do involves a safe or vault, we can rule artwork out. I’d already dismissed the idea we might be boosting a car when he told me how big the pot would be.
Has to be jewels, gold, or maybe even cash. Hell, for all I know, they want to break into Fort Knox.
Guess I’ll find out soon, but I have another heist to pull off before then. At least I’ll be working with Sin again.
London is our old stomping ground. It’s where we met. Where she’s from.
Where we fell in love.
But all that’s in the past, and it needs to stay there. Like Kynan said, I have to keep my head in the game.
CHAPTER 12
Sin
London should feel like coming home, but it doesn’t. I’ve lived in so many places since reaching adulthood. Because of that, it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had somewhere to call ‘home’.
Sure, my dad lives in London in the neighborhood where I’d grown up, but it’s only been a few months since he returned. Prior to that, he was like me… a free spirit who wandered wherever the urge took him.
Like me, he traveled to wherever the work was.
Opportunities to steal fancy artwork, expensive jewelry, or antique cars.
For an exceptionally long time, I was my father’s daughter, but there came a time where I started to dream about having a different life. Saint and I used to talk about those dreams. About pulling off that one heist that would allow us to retire to a tropical island where we’d drink rum swizzles and nap our days away in swaying hammocks.
After Saint went to prison—therefore solidifying his hatred for me—I’d lost the ability to dream for a while. Why would I want to go to a tropical island by myself? Besides, I couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone but Saint.
Those couple of years he’d been behind bars, nothing had been the same. I continued to plug along as a thief—not because it was all I knew, but because I hadn’t had the desire to want anything better. I drowned in my guilt over what I’d done, settling into the mindset I didn’t deserve what I had, much less anything better. Truthfully, I’d expected the carpet to be yanked out from underneath me at any second. I’d most definitely had it coming for what I’d done to him.
But I’d recently started thinking about it again. Leaving this life, I mean. Doing something worthwhile and interesting. Something I could be proud of.
The life of a thief is solitary and lonely. I can’t have normal friends. I’ll never attend parties where I can talk freely about my career. It’s not a stable life, which rules out a spouse and kids. And as I can attest by growing up as the daughter of a thief, I most certainly do not want to raise a child while in this line of work. The child getting mixed up in it would be inevitable. It’s like preordained destiny or something.
Yeah… I need to get away from this life and start over again. My dad’s stroke was a wakeup call. An important reminder about how fleeting life can be and how career criminals have no stability when they need it the most.
It was time to get out. My interim plan was to move home to London, right into my dad’s house, so I could get a job and help take care of him. While he’d bounced back pretty quickly from his minor stroke, he still had some limitations. I love him more than anything, and it would be my honor to help him.