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“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rule number one of being undercover: never blow the cover yourself.
“If you think I’m stupid enough to fall for Matt’s suggestion that you would be an easy target, then you’re veryverywrong.” The rolledrs sound like a motor trying to start. “I take my business seriously, Mrs. Essex, and I donotappreciate people trying to cut into my profits.”
Okay, so he doesn’t know we’re cops but he thinks we’re...competition?
“Excuse me?” I try to pull out of his grip but I’m rewarded with a sharp yank that I feel all the way up to my shoulder.
“Enough talking.” He drags me to the room where his men are waiting. Someone is slumped over in a chair—dark hair, heavier set. Shit, it’s Matt.
“What have you done?” I try to rush forward but Serge calls one of his men over and he pins my hands behind my back.
Matt lifts his head and I can see blood caked around a cut on his forehead and on the side of his mouth. His eye is almost completely swollen over. There’s a man standing behind him, who grips him by the hair and pulls his head back. For a moment I’m stuck; there’s a detail here I’m missing. Something that catches at the edge of my brain. A memory.
The man who’s holding on to Matt looks so familiar...
Then it hits me. He’s the concierge employee who helped us the day we moved in, the one who showed us up to our apartment. He joked with Owen about being married. We’ve seen him several times since, manning the front desk of the building.
He must be intercepting the jewels. He would know who lived in every apartment of the building. If anyone saw something suspicious they would likely tell the front desk...and he could keep it quiet. Having someone on the building staff made perfect sense. They’d hear gossip, complaints, reports...everything.
But he wouldn’t have heard about an undercover operation going on in the building. Which means Owen and I might get out of this.
I look at Serge with narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to prove a point? Fine. Consider it proven.”
Serge’s smile widened. “People tend to forget points unless they are made very clearly.”
The concierge guy holds Matt’s head back and Serge swings an open palm in his direction. The cracking sound echoes in the small office and Matt spits blood onto the floor. My heart is racing—Owen isn’t here, which means Serge lied...or they’re holding him somewhere else.
Please don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him.
“Where’s my husband?” I ask through gritted teeth. “If you’ve done anything to him...”
“What? You’re going to blind me with your diamonds?” Serge sniffs. “If you want to operate in this world, you need to toughen up. Privileged little princesses don’t last very long, you know. Their stupid husbands don’t, either.”
If something happens to Owen, I don’t know what I will do. I’m still angry at him for offering me money instead of having arealdiscussion about what a pregnancy could mean. I’m frustrated that he’s so unable to connect unless we’re in bed.
But it’s funny how fear clears the fog surrounding my feelings. I don’t want Owen to go. I want him to stay...with me...forever. Baby or not.
That’s only if we get out of this alive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Owen
THESECONDIrealise what’s happened, I feel sick. When I left Hannah at the blackjack table, I was cornered by a beefy suited guy who tried to convince me that Serge wanted to take me to some VIP lounge out back.
Not a good sign so early in the night. If Serge was really looking to get his money out of a couple of dumb schmucks, he’d let them play the tables for a bit. He’d show off. Make them want him.
But getting us out the back as quickly as possible means he wants to avoid us interacting with people. Aka witnesses. So I decline the invite, saying I promised Hannah a drink. Only now I see her heading through a door on the other side of the room on Serge’s arm.
Fuck.
I pretend my phone is ringing and bring it up to my ear, turning my back on Serge’s henchman. The second he looks away I hit the speed dial for the number Max set up for us.
“Hey, sorry we can’t make it tonight. Hannah isn’t feeling too well.” It’s the code we’ve instigated for the operation. I’ve just told the team that Hannah is in danger.
“Oh no, has she been sick long?” The female officer on the other end of the line is checking for details.
“No, it hit her very suddenly. Just a moment ago. But I haven’t caught it yet.”
