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“Of course.” The older man nods as he slides over to make room for me to sit.
The second the door closes and the driver pulls out into traffic, a feeling of foreboding comes over me. I keep my purse, and therefore my weapon, in my lap as I turn to face the possible client.
“I don’t usually work with people I haven’t met. I’m Valentina Key, as you already know. May I ask who I’m speaking with?”
I’m proud of how steady my voice sounds, unlike how upset my stomach feels.
“Jar Omar.”
I store the information away to research later when I’m at my computer.
“And how did you get my contact information, Mr. Omar, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m staying at The Whitney, of course. I asked around. Your name came up several times.”
I’m torn. I remember seeing him the week before, which meant he might remember seeing me.
“Oh?” before adding, “Was that before or after you offered the job to Atlas Giannopoulos?”
His wiry eyebrow raises.
“You are well informed. I admit, however, I am surprised Mr. Giannopoulos would be so careless to be talking about me or my confidential jobs behind my back.”
As tempting as it is to let him continue to think that Atlas had broken his confidence, I corrected him. “Oh, Mr. Giannopoulos did not tell me anything about you or the job. I just happened to overhear the end of your meeting with him on The Rooftop last week.”
“Ah…very well. He and his father have had a string of bad luck recently. I would have hated to add indiscretion to their long list of mistakes.”
Just hearing the anger in this man’s voice directed at Atlas and his father was already boosting my mood.
After a brief silence, I press for answers.
“So, how may I be of service to you?”
“I’m afraid that one of my enemies has stolen something that belongs to me. It was stolen from my home in Casablanca and my sources have traced the movement of my property to a location not far from here in Atlantic City. I am in need of someone to get inside my enemy’s place of business to retrieve my property from their safe.”
International theft. Despite the dangers, I was excited to get a crack at a job like this. It was exactly the kind of job that could put me on the map, so to speak.
But it also sounded exactly like the kind of job Sebastian and Atlas routinely handled already. So why had Atlas said no?
“On the surface, this sounds reasonable, but I have to ask, what’s the catch?”
“Who says there is a catch?” he asks, never taking his intense gaze off me.
“If Atlas turned you down, there is a catch. I’m not saying no—at least not yet. I just want to know why he turned it down.”
I didn’t like the predatory smile that came to his lips. “They were right about you. You are sharp.”
“As flattering as that may sound, I still have to ask.”
“My enemy is Frank Angelino.”
He pauses long enough for my brain to find that name in the Rolodex of my mind. The first alarm bell goes off as he continues.
“And my property is being kept in the safe of his casino on the Atlantic City Boardwalk.”
Multiple alarms fire at his new information. Everyone knows casinos are some of the hardest targets in the world, despite what they see in the Ocean’s Eleven movies. But more importantly, you add in the fact that it is Frank Angelino’s casino and…
“I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time, Mr. Omar, but I believe Atlas was correct in his assessment this is a fool’s errand. There are just too many layers of security in casinos to make them the kind of target I usually—”
“Such a shame. I was informed that you have more talent than any of your competitors, but that you were still being forced to prove yourself.” The asshole had interrupted me to throw his backhanded compliment my way. “This is the kind of project that gets up and coming artists such as yourself the kind of recognition you are deserving of.”
I bit my tongue to keep from adding that it is also the kind of project that had up and coming artists like me doing ten to twenty in a medium-security prison.
But still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted.
“What does the job pay?” I ask, knowing talk is cheap.
“Five-hundred thousand up front for expenses. You get me what I need, and I’ll have a million in cash waiting for you at the hand-off.”
Fuck. One and a half million dollars in cash. Even after expenses, that is life changing money. That is “upgrade apartment” money and so much more.
His smile tells me he can read my thoughts. He knows I’m tempted. Still, in my gut I know I should walk away, like Atlas did.
