Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
C on headed down the hallway and found Ronnie beside the printer. She looked up. “It either ran out of paper, or it’s done.”
Con woke up the screen on his computer with his fingerprint. “Done. Did you get any information?”
“I did. The call came from the embassy in Marseille, France, from some State Department person, but Sophia didn’t recall the name of the individual who called.”
“My God, could you imagine how puffed up Sophia would have been to have someone from the embassy call her?” Con disconnected the printer and put the small device in his backpack.
“I’m sure she’s having second thoughts about it now,” Ronnie said as she watched him put away his equipment. “The reason your computer looks that way is camouflage, isn’t it?”
He winked at her. “You bet. This little princess is beyond anything out there. She’s my own creation and more powerful than ninety-nine percent of the systems in the world. There are only three like her. My brother Brando and my cousin Ring have the other two.”
“Brando and Ring?” she repeated.
“Brandon and Cyrus. Brando and Ring are their handles.”
“Like Con is yours,” she said.
“Yep.” He put his computer into the backpack and made a last check for anything he’d forgotten. “Fury said the car would be here for us in ten minutes.”
When she walked up to him, he didn’t resist the temptation of placing his hands on her hips. “Maybe we should have that kiss now.” She looked up at him. He could consume the woman. She fanned a flame inside him he didn’t know existed. Everything about her, from the light dusting of freckles over her nose to the fierce independence she wielded like a sword, did nothing but heat the intensely desperate need that had sparked in him on that island all those months ago.
She lifted her hands to his chest, and he dropped for that kiss.
“Con, you’ve got to see this.” Ethan’s excited voice stopped both of them a fraction of an inch from touching.
“Not fucking again.” Con tapped his earpiece. “My computer is packed up, Ethan. Can it wait?”
“No. Dude, Eisenberger is on Molchalin’s payroll, or should I say was. Ask me how I know.”
When Con groaned instead of asking, Ronnie tapped her earpiece. “How do you know?”
“Oh, hi,” Ethan said. “I don’t know if you’ll understand this, Centurion, but he was being paid huge amounts of money from Plume Pharma’s bank in?—”
“Switzerland.” Con straightened and dropped his hands from her hips.
“Exactly. I had a hunch and followed the money. Eisenberger’s bank account is offshore, but, dude, it isn’t shielded with any effort. He’s pulling the money from the offshore accounts into banks in England.”
“You mean he was,” Con corrected.
“True,” Ethan conceded the point.
Ronnie asked, “Can we see what he was doing with the money?”
Ethan chuckled. “I’m getting approval to bust through those firewalls as we speak.”
Fury’s voice cut through their conversation.
“Your transport is waiting. Get to a secure hookup on that aircraft and help Ethan.”
Con snorted. “On a commercial aircraft? I’m good, man, but no one is that good.”
“You’re not on a commercial aircraft, asshole,” Fury growled. “I don’t know how you worked it, but you’re on one of the boss’s private birds. Now, get your ass to the airplane and plug your shit in.”
Con tipped his head and closed his eyes. He counted to ten and then counted again before singing that baby shark song Fury hated. Ronnie looked at him like he was insane, but Fury sure as hell clicked out of the convo in a hurry.
Ethan chuckled. “He’s offline; you can stop now.”
Con sighed. “I’m telling you, one of these days, we’re going to end up killing each other.”
“He’s an assassin.” Ronnie crossed her arms and looked at him. “I think he’d probably win.”
“Granted, but before I challenge him, I’ll design a program that haunts him after he kills me. I’d still have the last laugh.” He grabbed his backpack and shouldered it, picked up his bag and then hers. “After you. Ethan, Ronnie found some information on the invites of the victims. Are we still secure?”
“Of course, I would have told you if we weren't,” Ethan confirmed. “What do you have?”
Con filled him in as they walked to the front door. “I’m leaving the hotel room now. I’ll work on getting into the embassy’s phone records when I get set up. Let the big guys know what she learned and that I’m on it. You keep chasing Eisenberger.”
“Will do. I’m going to call Zane, too, and find out where Jewell is on that information on the Undersecretary.” They entered the elevator and made their way to the lobby.
He gave his car keys to the concierge. “Please get that back to the dealership and tell them I said thank you.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Solomon.” The concierge’s eyes landed on Ronnie as she walked out of the luxury hotel. Con may or may not have blocked the man’s view on purpose. Ronnie was beautiful, but she was his — or going to be his … somehow.
He handed off the baggage to the chauffeur and got into the limo that picked them up. Ronnie raised the privacy screen and turned to him as he shut the door. She cupped his face with her hands and kissed him. Oh, hell yes, he was on board with that. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer. The sweet taste of the woman hit his system like a blast of pure cocaine to a strung-out druggie. When he licked her lips, she opened for him. His capability for rational thought dissolved as their tongues danced.
He chased her lips as she pulled away, but she smiled and put her finger over his lips. “Answer your earpiece.”
Con blinked. “What?”
She tapped his ear, and he frowned, activating his device. “What?”
“That’s rude, and I feel like shit.” Jewell’s hoarse voice came across the connection.
“Sorry, princess. Food poisoning?” Con let Ronnie move away from him. Not willingly, of course, but still, he couldn’t keep her captive. Or could he? He immediately smiled before batting that thought away. Bad, Con. No captives .
“I have no idea. Zane will make me go to the doctor if I can’t get this nausea under control. He’s a massive worrywart. Anyway, AnneTrueman was on personal time. According to the personnel department’s computer systems, the vacation was scheduled over six months ago. She has no known connection with Eisenberger or anyone else at the gala, except for the presumed affiliation with Molchalin through his daughter.”
“What about her finances?” Ethan asked.
“Nothing other than the standard deposit every month from Uncle Sam. She has small savings, some investments, and a healthy 401K. Her health insurance and all other bills are paid. There’s nothing out of the norm.”
“Any offshore accounts?” Con asked as they were whisked through the streets.
“None I can find.”
“What about accounts for relatives, friends, lovers?” Con had seen several government stooges send their ill-gotten gains to accounts in the names of sisters, wives, and even moms and dads.
“I didn’t check that. I can run it. What do we have on Eisenberger?”
“No,” Con said, shaking his head. “Archangel said you were off the case with the exception of digging around on Ms. Trueman. We’ve got this. Go lay down and feel better. We need you at a hundred percent.”
Jewell groaned, “You’re as bad as they are.”
“Which I will take as a compliment. Put the information in our shared server, and we’ll finish the search for stashed monies. Seriously, Jewell, we have this. I’ll bring in Brando, so he and Ethan can tag team, but I’m here onsite with the principle for the case. You can rest assured we’ve got this.”
“He’s right, Jewell. Get some sleep and take care of yourself. I promise if there’s something we can’t handle, I’ll call,” Ethan added his two cents.
Jewell mumbled something, and Con heard the ping of the shared folder from Ethan’s computer. “I’m clear.” Jewell sighed and dropped off.
“She really isn’t feeling well, is she?” Ethan asked. “She’s never given up that easy before.”
“True that. Hopefully, Zane can get her to the doctor.” Con glanced out the window. “We’re coming up to the airport. I’ll contact you when I’m up and running.”
“Copy,” Ethan said, and Con hit his earpiece, silencing his side of the comms. He stretched his arm across the back of the seat and leaned into the corner, looking at Ronnie. “If I ever get you alone …”
She lifted a single eyebrow, which was something he’d never been able to do. He’d tried. “Care to finish that statement?” She cocked her head, almost defying him to finish his thoughts out loud.
“I do, and I care to finish more than just those words. Do you feel the same?” God, please say yes.
She leaned back into her corner of the limo’s bench seat and stared at him. “Depends on what you’re feeling.”
Con dropped his arm and pushed his hair back from his forehead. “I feel like I’m on fire, that my nerves are burning with some kind of Ronnie acid. The kisses are tormenting and complete hell because I want so much more, but I don’t ever want to stop kissing you.” He frowned. “Does that make me a sadist?”
“Masochist,” she said.
He blinked. “Right. Sorry, I was distracted by the sexiest woman in the world. Does that make me a masochist?”
She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug and answered, “No. If it did, it would make me one, and I don’t have any kinks.”
Con’s laugh was immediate. “Have you sampled all the flavors of kink out there?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never had the desire or a partner willing to experiment.”
“So, you don’t know if you have any kinks.” Con smiled at her. “I’m willing to submit myself as a willing partner for any experimentation you want. Except for that masochistic thing. Not into that.”
She laughed. “Maybe we should get past the second date before discussing experimentation. A lady does have to have standards.”
“Is the standard a second date?” The car pulled off of the accessway into the perimeter road for the airport.
“No, the standard is at least three dates and, in my life, passing a background check.”
“I’ve already done that. Multiple times by multiple agencies. I’m an open book.” He smiled at her. “We’ll be in London soon. I propose to have our second date then.”
“What about work? I don’t think the powers-that-be would appreciate us taking time off for a date.”
“What they don’t know won’t hurt anyone.” Con shrugged.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Actually, what they don’t know could kill someone, but still, we’re both professionals. If there’s no time, then there’s no time.”
He shut his eyes and chanted, “Please let there be time.”
Ronnie laughed as the car pulled to a stop outside a small building. Con opened his eyes and blinked at the sleek black jet embossed with the gold Guardian logo on the tail. He whistled. “My mom has one of those on order. The wait time is forever.”
Ronnie glanced over her shoulder at the aircraft. “It isn’t his nicest one, but I like it.”
Con got out and walked around to open her door while the chauffeur retrieved their bags. “You get to fly around in one of these?”
Ronnie smiled. “Perks of the position.”
“Not for Val. She and Smith were in economy on the last assignment. She was not happy, and how Smithson folded up to fit in one of those seats is beyond me.” Con grabbed the suitcases and followed Ronnie into the small building. They filled out forms for the customs officer, presented passports, and were cleared after their bags were x-rayed. After relinquishing the bags at the steps, Con followed Ronnie into the aircraft.
She pointed to a work area with a desk. “That has the communications hookups,” she said as she moved back to the small kitchen area. “Are you hungry?”
“Always.” He had a fast metabolism that kept him hungry and a workout regime that kept him in shape … well, when he was at home, that was. He sat down and pulled out his computer. A man exited the cockpit and bypassed him to go to the rear of the plane and talk with Ronnie. She smiled up at him, and they visited like they knew each other well. Con gave him the stink eye for the thirty seconds it took his computer to boot up. He used his cables and connected them to the system the plane had installed. He smiled at the encryption and the speed of the connection. Whoever the hell Gabriel was, the man ran one hell of an organization.
Con stopped and looked from his keyboard to where Ronnie stood. He’d tried to find out information about Gabriel when he first considered working for the firm, but he’d run into brick walls. The same went for the company's owner, David Xavier. That billionaire’s security was buttoned up so tight nothing he, Brando, or Ring tried penetrated the wall built around him. Ronnie’s security seemed to be of the same quality.
Con turned back to his computer and muttered to himself, “To quote Alice, things are getting curiouser and curiouser.” But that was okay, he fucking loved a good puzzle. He logged into Guardian’s system.