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I raise an eyebrow. “That the whole of it?”
“More or less.”
“What’s the more?”
“Well, we’ll be putting contingencies in place, of course.” Now he lifts his eyes to mine again, a hard look in his. “Can’t be too careful in cases like this.”
“Oh, I agree. That’s why I’m asking.” I shove my arms over my chest so he won’t notice the way my fingers clench into fists. “This is my last job, Rich. After this I’m done.”
“I’m aware.” He stares, waiting for my reply. “And?”
Now is when I need to convince him I’m in this for me and only for me. “And shit better not go south on this job because I’m not doing time for anyone. So, yeah, I want to make damn sure there are contingencies in place. This needs to go smooth.”
“Then we’re on the same page.” Rich lifts an eyebrow and reaches for the liquor cabinet beside his desk, opening it to reveal a row of scotch worth more money than my life at the moment. He draws out the nearest one, a twenty-five-year label that most collectors would kill for a taste of. He doesn’t offer me or his hooker a glass. Just pours his own.
“Are we?” I take a step toward him. Not menacing, just enough to show I mean business. “You still haven’t told me any of the backup plans. How am I supposed to run this thing right if I don’t know what your backup drills are going to be?” How am I supposed to protect Skye if I don’t know your end-game, you prick?
“We’re running this job the same way we’ve run every job, Stone.” His use of my last name makes me relax slightly. “You need to focus on your job, that’s all. Make sure Ian Banner shows up with the money. If he doesn’t, make sure you’ve got a bead on that sister of his.” He gives me a sleazy smile. “She’s delectable, isn’t she? I wouldn’t mind getting my dick greased—”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I grind out. Fury. Pure, red-hot, blinding fury pulses through my body, at hearing him describe Skye like that. Of course, she’s delectable—more than that, she’s gorgeous. Any sane, hot-blooded guy would kill to be with her. But the idea of Rich Tomlinson— Rich getting-a-foot-job-from-a-hooker-in-his-sleazy-office-Tomlinson—thinking about her in a sexual way makes me want to rip his cock off and shove it down his own throat.
But I’ve played better poker games than Rich has ever dreamt of. Not an ounce of that anger shows on my face. “I know my job,” I tell him. “That’s why I’m wondering why you sent your buddy Heath out there to do the same.” I lift a single, cool eyebrow. “He was staked outside her apartment today. Freaked her out. I think she spotted his car.”
It’s a bit exaggerated, but when I combed the tapes from her place last night, I did see her checking the locks on her door, the latches on her windows. She slept with the light on in her bedroom, too. She’s never done that, not in the whole time I’ve known her. Something has her spooked, though what exactly, I never caught on camera. Unless it was something Ian said to her, when he showed up outside her door.
Rich only shrugs. “Like I said. Contingencies.”
“And you didn’t see fit to warn me about this? What if your man blew my cover? What if he tipped the girl off to something going wrong?”
“Then lucky you’ll be there to comfort her,” he replies with a steady glare.
“Not for long, if she catches wind of this shit. She already knows something’s up with her idiot fucking brother. She’s—” I catch myself. I’m getting too involved. Sounding way too invested. “Unfortunately, she’s less of a fool than he is. I think she’s suspicious already. I’d appreciate it if you’d share the details with me so I can do my goddamn job properly. If you didn’t want me to handle this one, you should have saved your final favor for a better job.”
He narrows his eyes. But then he spread his hands wide. “I was trying to let you have plausible deniability, Stone. But if you don’t want it on this case? Fine by me. I have it on decent authority that the Banner boy might try to run. He’s rented a hotel out of town, up in Jersey City, under a false name. We were talking about the possibility of bringing the girl in. But if you say she’s suspicious already, we might as well move ahead with it.” He snaps his fingers, and my eyes widen in horror as the hooker uncurls from the couch, grabbing his phone to bring it to him.
“No,” I say. Shit. Way to sound suspicious, Stone. “He’s not planning on running,” I growl. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t. I’ll bring Skye in myself.” I hardly hear what I’m saying. I just want to make Rich stop looking at his phone like that. I want to grab it from him and crush it against the tabletop. I want to punch that smug, faux-thoughtful look off his face, and make him swear to never touch a hair on Skye’s head.
Hell, if I need to, I could drive that letter-opener on the desk into his neck and make damn sure he never does.
Take matters into my own hands…
But the moment has already passed. The door behind me opens, a few more Man Bun varieties flood into the room.
“You called?” one of them asks.
Rich looks past me, straight at his men. “It’s about the Banner bitch. Bring her in.”
“Let me do it,” I hear myself saying again. “I can make it quick and easy. I won’t even need to B&E. She’s already given me her key.” A lie, but a believable one. I can talk Skye into letting me up into her apartment. I’m sure of it. And if not, I can talk Ian into letting me in instead. Either way, I’ll make it happen.
Rich glares at me, long and hard. I stare back steadily, not letting anything show on my face. Not the anguish flooding through me, or the panic that sends my pulse skyrocketing, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. I look like the rest of them. Blank-faced soldiers awaiting our orders.
“Fine,” he says at last. “You have five hours. After that, I’ll do it my way.”
I nod, just once, sharply. “You won’t need to,” I tell him aloud. Inwardly, as I leave the office, I think, You’ll need a hell of a lot more than your way to stop me from saving her.
22
Skye
