After seven hours of interrogation, she’d confronted me once I’d been released. The police couldn’t crack me and had no choice but to let me go, but one look from my mother and a soft plea to tell her the truth made it all come tumbling out.
Every bit of it.
Told her the entire sordid story of my life of crime.
But my mom—greatest human being ever born—forgave me without hesitation. Hugged me and said she understood.
And then she begged me to clean up my act. Made me promise on ‘her life’ I would do something more worthwhile with my future.
She was my hero, and I couldn’t disappoint her again. Because of that, I joined the Marine Corps. For six years, I gave the United States my all. It’s where I met Jerico Jameson, who, in turn, introduced me to Kynan McGrath, which led me to this job with Jameson Force Security. I loved my time in the military and the bonds I’d formed, but I couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t something I wanted for a career.
So, at the age of twenty-six, I got out.
Tried to walk the straight and narrow.
Tried hard.
Mom had been doing well. She enjoyed her life, and she was even dating a guy I kind of liked. I, on the other hand, hadn’t found satisfaction in anything I tried.
That nagging unfulfillment made me return to my life as a thief. I’d headed straight to Europe, thinking an ocean between my mom and me would alleviate my guilt at being dishonest and doing what I knew would cause her so much disappointment.
For almost seven years, I did what my mother hated. I planned, I stole, and I lied to my mom about what I did for a living. She thought I did civilian contracting for the military, and I sent a lot of money home to her. I took a cut for myself, using it to lead a playboy lifestyle of traveling the world, fucking beautiful women, and dressing in the finest clothes. The rest, I donated to charity to help ease my conscience.
Focusing on Sin, I watch as she studies a photo of a man William had pinned to a corkboard on the wall.
She’s still beautiful and alluring, which is dangerous as hell to me. I’d kept all the good memories at bay, only allowing the dark bitterness of her part in my circumstances to fester.
Now, being near her again, knowing her betrayal was born from caring about me rather than her enmity… it seems to push much of that bitterness away.
“Okay,” William says, turning to face us. Sin straightens and I lean forward attentively, but Neal continues to surf his phone.
William isn’t someone to fuck with, though. He has a dozen people who would kill to take Neal’s place on the team.
“If you have a moment, Neal, I could use your attention. If you don’t, how about taking your arse out of here because I have no use for you.”
His head popping up, Neal flushes red. There isn’t an apology, though. He merely places his phone on the table, eyes on William.
“All right, this is our mark,” William says, shifting to tap a knuckle on the photo of a white male who appears to be in his late fifties. He has dark hair going bald on the top, and he’s a little on the portly side.
“This is Lord James Dennison. He’s an earl from London who lives in Paris. Worth a fortune, too—mainly because he’s a wise investor, but also because he collects fine art. He has an authenticated Renoir, which is worth at least three million on the black market.”
William drones on, giving us the man’s history. He’s a widowed empty nester whose children have all moved away. Seeming to be extremely lonely, he’s been hitting the club scene and flashing his money around in an attempt to ease his heartache. It’s sad.
“He likes his women young and scantily dressed,” William states, gesturing to Sin. “You’re the bait and distraction.”
When she nods, my stomach churns. I have no right to dislike that plan, but fuck… I don’t like it. Don’t like anything about Sin having to use her womanly wiles to carry out a heist.
But she’s not mine to get jealous over or worry about, so I let it go.
“Neal… Saint,” William says, pointing to the schematics of Lord Dennison’s penthouse apartment. “You’re the switch and transport.”
“What’s the play?” I ask.
“Sin will wrangle an invitation from Dennison to visit his apartment. Once inside, he’ll fall ill.”
“How?” Sin demands.
“Poison,” William replies smoothly.
“I am not killing someone,” she replies hotly, rising from her chair and slamming her hands on the table in front of her. I don’t say anything, but there’s no way I’m getting involved in a murder either. I’ll do a lot of things for Jameson Force Security, but cold-blooded murder isn’t one of them.
“Relax…” William chuckles. “You’re only going to make him sick. This poison will make him feel as if he’s dying, but he won’t. The key is to get him sick enough that calling 1-1-2 is a necessity.”
“1-1-2?” Neal asks.
“Emergency services,” Sin says with a wave of her hand, her tone suggesting it was a stupid question.
Because it was.
“I assume Neal and Saint will come in pretending to be the paramedics?” she inquires.
“Smart girl,” William praises, then proceeds to go through the entire game plan.
I have to admit… it’s pretty brilliant and I love a heist that involves a nice con at the same time. Sin and I pepper William with questions. Neal doesn’t have a brain in his skull, so he listens with semi-glazed eyes. He’s always going to be the guy who does as told, relying on others to make sure the plan is as foolproof as possible.
After the meeting, I head out for a coffee, using the time to think about this job. There are a million ways it could go wrong, but that’s the risk we take.
Deep down, I’m looking forward to it. Yes, I’m conning the entire team—all the way up to Julian Mercier—until I can find out what they’re up to, but I’m not going to lie… I missed this way of life. A lot of the excitement I’m experiencing doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the job I’m doing for Jameson, but it has everything to do with stealing that Renoir.
♦
Back in my hotel room, I pull out an electronic device Bebe gave me. She recommended sweeping my room each time I return, so I do so it now, taking my time and working over every surface.
When I’m confident there are no bugs or other recording devices present, I call Kynan on a burner cell.
“What’s up?” he asks when the line connects. “All settled in?”
“Moving fast,” I say, then fill him in on my meeting with Julian Mercier. “They’re going to test me. An art heist from a private owner here in Paris.”
“If you get caught, you know I’m going to have a hell of a time saving you,” Kynan warns.
“I know,” I say. It’s a risk I’m aware of and accept. Even though my reasons for doing this are honorable—attempting to prevent a major crime from being committed—it’s being done outside of the sanction of police officials, meaning I’ll still be considered a common criminal in a few days’ time when we set out to rob Lord Dennison.
“There’s a complication,” I say, rubbing at the five o’clock shadow on my face. “Of the female kind.”