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She stepped closer, her voice low. “We’re not friends, Fury. We’re enemies. I’m investigating you.”
“You’ll realize soon that I’m a good guy.” I lowered my head, let my lips brush her ear. I heard her sharp intake of breath.
Damn, she smelled good. Something extra spicy tonight.
Amber eyes met mine, steady and direct. “Even if you’re not laundering money, I highly doubt you’re a good guy.”
“Well, I can be bad in all the right ways.”
Her cheeks were flushed. So damn beautiful.
“I could help you,” I said.
She blinked. “Help?”
“With your investigation. Who else is on your list? I know most people in New Orleans.”
“I do not need your help, Mr. Fury.”
Fuck. Her calling me Mr. Fury went straight to my cock. “I’m a good resource, London. You’d be a fool not to use me.”
She hesitated, her gaze narrowing. “Have you noticed any suspicious art sales? Anyone attending these auctions who doesn’t fit in?”
I frowned. “No. But I wasn’t really paying attention to other sales.” But this was my city. If someone was using art to launder money, I wanted it stopped.
Something sparked in her eyes. “Thanks.” She spun and walked into the crowd. I watched those long legs, and the sway of her toned ass.
I made a mental note to talk to Brennan. Ask about any unusual sales. I spent a lot of money here, and I knew the man would answer my questions.
“Good evening, Mr. Fury.”
A stunning woman with an Italian accent stepped in front of me. Her slinky, white dress dipped into a deep V in front, showing off her generous cleavage. She had pouty, red lips that made me think of a young Sophia Loren.
I cocked my head. “Hi.”
“The jewelry is very beautiful.” She smiled, and I was well aware she was smiling at my bank account—not at me. She was beautiful, but I felt nothing more than simple appreciation for her looks.
No spark. No challenge. Just another woman who wanted to take, but not give.
“Enjoy your evening.” I looked past her, and saw London watching us.
The lovely Treasury agent held my gaze for a beat, then turned away.
Oh, but with just one look at London, that spark flared.
11
LONDON
Heading out of the auction room, I pulled my cellphone out of my handbag.
I tried to keep my mind focused on my work and not on Kavner Fury and the pouty brunette who’d been giving him the strong “I’ll strip and do whatever you want” vibes.
My stomach shriveled uncomfortably.
“Not my business,” I muttered. Fury no doubt had women throwing themselves at him all the time. I shook my head and called my boss.
“Coleman,” a gruff voice said. “How’s the auction?”
