To Catch A Rook (All The Queen’s Men #1)

21. Chapter 18 – Lauchlan

“ O y, Conan.”

I slid onto the weight bench right next to the barbarian as he tried his best to bust a bicep with the weight he was pressing.

I barely got a head turn from the sexy oaf, all sputtering and sweating like a Canadian lumberjack. If I didn’t already know how the fucker felt through my arse cheeks, I’d be tempted to give it a go in the shower again before he headed off to behead people, or whatever it was mobsters did after the gym.

“Little birdie told me you made a ‘special request’”—I took out my best obnoxious air quotes—“to have my membership dismissed.”

The Viking still wouldn’t make eye contact, but I caught him sneak a little peek at me through the mirrors ahead. I stared into the reflection of that icy blue eye of his, not able to contain my grin.

“Couldn’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to work out with your cock-cozy,” I announced with mock indignance, raising my voice with each word. “Aren’t I a great cock-cozy, baby?”

The bar with all the weight of a small grizzly slammed back down and my buff target shot up from his seat, skin glistening and chest heaving—the sex appeal of this man really was top-notch. He glared at me like he hoped his eyes were laser beams and they’d cut me in half.

“Evidently, you have friends here.” Kellan’s voice was gravelly, unamused and unimpressed.

“That I do, my broody barbarian.” Me and the Cheshire Cat had matching smiles this morning. “But don’t you fret. We’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other, mate.”

I winked and hopped off the bench, taking in the angry, sculpted sight of him for one last blissful second. “I’ll see you in the shower? If you”—obnoxious air quotes again, just for good measure—“‘do that’ anymore.”

I chuckled all the way down the hallway to the cardio room, eager for a good run before I attempted to make good on my promise. Sweaty shower sex was the best sex if the cartel baddie would give me round two. A man could only hope.

He hadn’t known who I was the last time I let him rail me in the gym shower. He still didn’t, if Jediah’s little criminal club party was any indication. I knew how to seduce a man as well as I could seduce any woman, and Kellan hadn’t been hard pickings that day.

I could always tell when an Alpha male needed to let out a little frustration. They walked around like a Neanderthal, brows crunched together and bulky shoulders all tense and hard. Like they wanted to smash something. More like they needed to smash someone .

A little well-placed positioning, a few well-timed glances, and if there was interest, I could shag a shower mate in less than fifteen minutes.

It was hard to be me, really. It was a sacrifice to offer my body to men and women to be fondled and sucked and fucked dry. Someone throw me a right old pity party later.

Kellan wasn’t a mark—not officially, at any rate—but I wanted him close. For my plan with Alvarez to work, I needed one of his kind in my back pocket. What could be closer than a man you let fuck you in a public loo?

He wasn’t the type of man I could find on the fuck-n-chuck Grinder . I had scoped out his gym and got a membership. I bet on timing and chance and did a bit of research. If he hadn’t been into men, I would have befriended ol’ Kell-Bell and caught him in my net that way.

‘Lucky’ for me—I loved my new little nickname—he was very much into men. Or his dick was a sensational liar.

Two sexy projects I had on the go. If I had time before all the pieces were in play, I’d see what I could do to bring the three of us together.

I finished my workout and casually searched the bench area before heading back to the showers alone. I could have used another feisty shag today, but I’d made my point.

Kellan was clearly a Dom, and there was nothing a Dom enjoyed more than bringing a brat to their knees. I could be a brat to get his pants down; through that, I’d get his guard down too.

I’d take that pity party now.

Thr ee weeks working for Alvarez was the typical snooze fest that came with working in tech. The team of software engineers and developers I managed were the stereotypical lot of socially awkward geniuses who’d spent all of ten minutes in a pub.

Hard to have them develop a hook-up app when I was sure most of them had never touched a real dickybird.

It wasn’t a problem, really. I’d design the app in my sleep and give my crackpot team the credit. It was a simple premise and an easy interface. It just needed to be designed by someone who actually understood human behavior.

I was the man for that job.

I wasn’t here to make Marco Alvarez another billion dollars. Quite the opposite, if I could get into the system I needed. That was the real job.

I stood from the cubicle in my team’s ‘bull pen’—Americans had some of the craziest names for things—and stretched my arms over my head, done with this facade of a day.

Marco offered me an office, but I didn’t need some pretentious setup to make myself feel important on what was already a farce of a job.

I worked beside my team when I needed to show up at all, and pried as best I could in a group of people who didn’t talk. It was incredible how thirty euros worth of pizza and a case of watery beer could open up a crowd better than any crock of ‘team-bonding.’

“Gertie,” I called out as walked down the hall toward her desk. “What do you say we go for dinner tonight?”

My cute little administrator giggled sheepishly. I’d learned she was quite the powerhouse of her own, knowing all the ins and outs of the Alvarez empire like nobody’s busine ss. She struggled with outright attention, so I lavished her with it, determined to bring that little blush to her cheeks every day.

“Mr. O’Donnell,” she sputtered, to my amusement, “I told you I like women, right? I don’t think I’m the kind of company you’re looking for.”

“Even better!” I chirped enthusiastically, flashing her a wide smile. “We can observe all the beautiful things in life together over tacos and go home with no expectations.”

At her relieved smile, I shot off a cheeky wink. “I’m an excellent wingman, too, if something pretty catches your eye.”

Another delightful sputter and cough. “I’ll keep that in mind. I love tacos, though.”

“Great!” I pulled her coat off the rack behind her desk and nodded toward her computer monitor, catching a quick glimpse of the files there. “We’ve both been here long enough.” I held out her coat in offering. “Join me?”

Gertie’s chagrin turned into a soft smile. “You’re quite the charmer, you know that?”

She shut down her computer with the company passcode and I managed to get the first four digits of five. She shrugged on her coat as we walked down the stairs and out toward the street.

Our building was smack dab in the middle of downtown Carlisle. Ma’s condo was only a few blocks from here, and Hillary’s building was just down the street. I liked the proximity here—nothing like Dublin’s streetscape.

We walked down to the Mexican restaurant at the other end of the row. Gertie chatted her little head off about growing up in Indiana and I filled in the space where I could. It was easy to let her talk—the more she talked, the more comfortable she’d be with telling me anything.

That, and I liked the sound of her pitchy Midwest accent. Gertie was cute as a button. I’d see what I could do to get her a nice girl to fuck tonight. I eyed up her sweet cheeks and wide eyes as I opened the door to the eatery—well, at least strike up a yarn with. Gertie didn’t strike me as a fuck once kind of woman.

My mouth watered as the scent of grilled meats and spice hit us. We were brought to a table in the center of the room. Tacos were a street food where I came from, but apparently, in America, they also classified as fine dining.

No matter. Gertie deserved a good meal for putting up with the likes of a git like Marco, and I wasn’t hard up for cash.

I’d have retired by the time I was twenty-five if I followed Da’s advice and invested the take of my first few jobs. Thanks to his legacy, I’d started out when I was a lad, joining Da or Ma on scopes when they needed a kid to help their cover.

We once holidayed on the Italian coast as a family when I was nine—one particular job where they’d worked together for the better part of a month. I lounged with my nanny for most of it, but occasionally, I got to attend a yacht party with a bunch of rich saps while Ma and Da worked over the billionaire for a priceless piece of jewelry.

I was the one who’d sneaked the ring out while Ma improvised a distraction. It had been my first taste of the thrill of risk and reward, and I hadn’t looked back. Even if I had the billions to my name like the likes of the Rodriguez empire or my tasty little project, I couldn’t imagine a life doing anything but.

My master’s degree in Software Engineering from King’s College had been to suit my own interests, and I had to convince Da it wasn’t a waste of time. I still ran jobs for The Six in London while I was there, which seemed to soothe his ire a titch. It was a useful cover more often than not.

So, while I wasn’t flying anyone out on holiday in a private jet, I could well pay for my needs for the rest of my life, should I live that long.

Paying seventy dollars for a taco seemed a bit dodgy, though.

I looked up from my menu to see Gertie’s eyes blinking rapidly, a hesitant frown on her cute-as-a-button face. Either she was allergic to tacos or was allergic to the prices.

“Get whatever you’d like tonight, Gert. I’m buying.”

Her brown eyes snapped up to mine. “No, that’s fine, Mr. O—Lauchlan,” she corrected. “I’m just—”

“I insist.” I interrupted with a warm smile, making sure she knew I wasn’t pulling one over her. Well—not that way. “I dragged you out with me tonight, and if I can’t get you laid, at least I’ll know I got you fed, ay?”

Her little titter melted me a smidge, and I hoped, despite myself, I could get her both tonight.

The server took our order, and I scanned the crowd, determined to do just that. I’d gleaned enough from Gertie tonight, and this wasn’t a quick job. I could wait before I started asking the real questions.

It wasn’t helpful the pair of us looked like a couple having a romantic meal, and I wasn’t looking to throw out the impression we were looking for another bedmate.

I was always up for a threesome, but not with Gertie.

Gertie reminded me too much of … her. The innocence in her smile, the crinkle of her brow at my teasing. The reminder caused a little tug on the hole where my heart used to be. In this light, and a bottle of scotch, I’d mistake her for my little sister.

My gaze caught on a familiar beautiful blonde, seated with a similarly aged brown-haired man in a booth beyond the table area. They looked comfortable, even casual, in their body language, and relaxed, as if this were a routine evening.

He wasn’t a lover—they sat too far apart for that—but they had a relationship of some kind. I made a mental note to look into who Hillary Lane was spending her time with after hours at an over-priced taco stand.

Our little table talk at the event the other night made it clear I wasn’t the only man Hillary was sleeping with.

I was still doing my research, little by little. Both of my pet projects were working side by side, and I wasn’t in a hurry to complete either until all the pieces were properly in place.

The Six never guaranteed a set timeline for their clients—just a time window in which the work would be done. The client paid up front. If the job wasn’t completed, they got a percentage of their money back. I’d never heard of such a thing, but I’m sure it happened, just as sure as the sorry sucker they would hire to fulfill a contract never lived to see another one.

I’d need to set another date too. Getting railed in her apartment had its perks, but it was time to go deeper into the world of my beautiful Blondie.

I turned my attention back to Gertie, who’d been chattering away while I was reading the room. I hadn’t found any single contenders for a shag mate, so dinner would have to do.

We stuck to comfortable small talk for the rest of dinner, while we ate admittedly delicious food. I came to realize I genuinely liked Gertie’s company. Conning was an emotionally isolated life, and it was rare to have any moments of casual chat for the sake of it. I was glad that her part in my plan was relatively innocent. I’d just make sure she didn’t get any blowback on account of my … friendship.

Hillary caught my eye when she sidled out of the booth, abandoning her guest, and made her way down the cramme d lane of tables toward me. In a gold silk blouse and copper skirt, she looked radiant as ever.

Her confident strut through the restaurant reminded me once again who I was dealing with. A woman of poise and power, and so much damned sex appeal my cock hurt every time I was around her. This job was significantly better than the time I’d had to seduce a Russian baron whose breath had smelled of turnips and his sack even worse.

“Lucky,” she cooed when she got to our table, appraising me with that carefully neutral cadence of hers. “How good to see you.”

I stood and brought her in for a kiss on each cheek. “Good to see you, Blondie.” I caught a brief sultry smile before her attention turned to my demure friend.

“I’m Hillary Lane.” She stuck out her hand for a perfunctory shake, but her smile to Gertie was much warmer than the one I’d gotten. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Gertie’s eyes widened like she was seeing a mythical sea creature, stunned and somewhat awed. “Yes!” she exclaimed, finally closing her gob to shake Hillary’s hand in return. “Of course, I know who you are. Hello—hi. Hi!”

Apparently, meeting me was a hell of a lot less impressive than the likes of billionaire blondies. Perhaps Gertie was attracted to Hillary as much as I was.

“And you are …” Hillary stared expectantly; Gertie turned a deep rose.

“Gertrude Chicowsky.” She smoothed her hands nervously down the front of her jumper. “But please—call me Gertie.”

“It’s great to meet you, Gertie. I’m glad you’re keeping our overseas friend here company.”

Hillary’s eyes crinkled in barely masked enjoyment, and her gaze snagged on mine for a brief second before turning back to Gertie. “How do you two know each other?”

I s hot my hand out under the table to squeeze Gertie’s knee in warning, but the gesture was lost in her star-crossed sputter.

“We work together,” Gertie blurted quickly, as if she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Well—we—ah—both work for Mr. Alvarez, but I’m just the assistant. Lauchlan is the tech guy.”

Hillary’s expression held brief surprise, but then turned indecipherable as she looked me over. I prided myself on being able to read others’ secrets like the open book their bodies were, but Hillary was a master at shutting me out.

I preferred to be the one who told my own story, but it was bound to get out eventually. My cover did match the one I’d already told her, even if I’d been intentionally vague.

“See?” A smirk danced along my lips at Blondie’s attention. “I’m the tech guy.”

“That you are.” Hillary scrutinized me for a moment too long before she lit up into a sunny smile, turning all her warmth to Gertie’s cherubic face. “It was so nice to meet you, Gertie. Order a bottle of wine on his dollar, okay? Trust me, he’s good for it.”

With a wave and a laugh, she sauntered away on catwalk heels, leaving me and Gertie to check out a fantastic backside view as the server grabbed her coat.

“You’re friends with Hillary Lane?” Gertie hissed once Hillary was out of earshot. “Lauchlan, that’s huge!”

Her eyes were shiny with giddy excitement. I was man enough to admit my heart kicked up a notch or two when Hillary was around too. Her wee form had so much presence , a Queen to be worshipped on a throne.

And that Queen had come to me tonight.

The long con required many steps, and I was slowly moving through each one. A bottle of wine with a sweet Midwest girl was the perfect nightcap to a craic week.

“ I’m friends with everybody, Gert.” I picked up the wine menu next to our plates and browsed through the American offerings. “You in cluded. What do you say we get some wine and dessert?”