16. Amorette
AMORETTE
H aving a laptop at my disposal did wonders for my confidence with the brothers. I was no longer a prisoner, although I’m not sure if that was how the men who worked for them viewed me in the first place.
Laughing, I tucked my chin as I walked down the hallway toward the offices. Of course, the men thought I was a prisoner. Maybe not in the same sense as the warehouse, but I was a glorified live-in girlfriend. Nope, that was probably too generous a word.
Either way, I was sure they viewed me as Grey’s property, and maybe the brothers’ too to a certain extent. And for them, that was normal. The men never even batted an eye when I traipsed around the compound.
Regardless, with a laptop under my arm, I felt like I was contributing—a real person with value instead of a thing that was only good for sex.
I approached Andre’s office and stopped in the doorway. Andre had his phone on speaker as he sat back in his chair with his hands clasped under his chin. The chair continuously rocked back with his weight. I gave a short, low knock on the door, and he twisted toward me.
There was no smile, no greeting, just a cursory glance down to my feet and back up to my eyes. Then he waved a hand at the chair in front of the desk.
“We’ve been trying to work this out for years, Andre.
You know how long I’ve been on this particular case.
It would make my career if I were able to secure this information with informants.
” The man on the phone was definitely no spring chicken.
His voice was raspy, like he’d partied hard for too many years.
If I had to gamble on his age, I’d place him at least in his mid-fifties, but most likely mid-sixties.
He also carried a note of desperation.
“What information I give and when–is up to me, not you, Lescheva.” Andre’s voice was cold and hard, like Lescheva had been trying this precise conversation longer than just today.
Andre said his name? In front of me? I glanced back at the open door. It was more shocking he was having this conversation with the door open. It seemed like it wasn’t strictly kosher.
“You reached out to me. I didn’t initiate this call.
If you’ve got a problem with someone and want to take them down a peg or two, I can get behind it.
But you can’t dictate the rules,” Lescheva huffed.
“Don’t you see? This would make my career and make your life so much easier with that father of yours. ”
“This is a big risk the men would be taking. What can you promise them?” Andre spun until only his profile was in view. The light behind his desk highlighted the straight, proud line of his nose and his plump lips. Not too full but very defined.
“They’d get immunity. That’s more than most men in their line of work would get in any other situation.”
Not true. Criminals got immunity all the time when they were in a position to help take down a bigger fish.
This wasn’t my typical area of law, yet something about Lescheva’s words sounded off to me. I could be reading this entire situation wrong, but I didn’t think so. Motioning to get Andre’s attention, I mouthed ‘mute’ when he looked at me.
“Who is this man?” I asked once the mute button was engaged.
Andre studied me. His gaze was heavy, like he was weighing my intentions and my trustworthiness. When he finally answered, I felt one of the many knots I’d been carrying around in my chest loosen. “A consultant for the FBI. He works with them on several cases.”
“You're offering up men to take down Vicente?” That was the only logical reason he’d be having this conversation.
“Andre?” Lescheva called, but we remained on mute.
“Maybe at the most basic, although it’s more complicated than that. My men are not the ones on the table.”
I pointed at the phone. “Then this man can’t promise your people's immunity. He’s a consultant. That could come only from the FBI. He’s not actually employed with them, right? He’s like a contractor?”
As he unmuted the phone, he kept his amber-brown gaze locked on mine. “Lescheva. How can you promise immunity? My understanding is that it’s outside of your wheelhouse,” Andre said lightly.
Lescheva blustered for a few seconds. “I’m a consultant. I’ve worked with the FBI on multiple occasions, and with you , I’ll remind you. This has never been an issue.”
A small smile tipped one side of Andre’s mouth. “I was never playing chess before, and certainly not with people who weren’t throwaways. Everyone I tossed you in the past we wanted gone.”
“Listen, I understand this is the big leagues you’re trying to get into, but if you want to pull off a series of operations as delicate as this, we’d need to be careful. Head players can afford big lawyers who know their way around the law.”
I motioned for him to hit mute again.
“Are you trying to catch Vicente in the act with informants?”
Andre gave me a single, almost imperceptible nod. “Long game.”
“There’s a fine line between the legality of using informants and entrapment. Maybe that won’t matter if you’re in South America, but it’s something to consider.”
Now Andre was grinning, his perfect white teeth on display. He hit unmute. “Lescheva, I’m getting an urgent call. Let’s pick this up later.” Then he ended it without a second glance at the phone.
The itch to fidget hit me as I sat under his intense stare. Then horror started to wash over me as I realized exactly how I’d just fucked up.
“Shit,” I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. I’d begged them not to use me for anything that dealt with the law. That’s not what I wanted to do in this new life. Yet here I was at the first opportunity to help take down Vicente, and I was spilling my minimal knowledge of criminal law.
“That was impressive. I should have consulted you before I called Lescheva.”
When I picked my head up, there was nothing except respect and maybe a glimmer of admiration shining on Andre’s face. His black hair was swept away from his face, except for one wavy lock falling over his forehead.
I decided to focus on that instead of what I’d just done. “I’ve been working on research for Parker, and I had a couple of questions for you,” I said, then coughed to clear my throat. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
“Let me tell you what I think would have happened if you hadn’t walked in…
.” He reached back and gripped the top of his chair, stretching his shirt across a toned body.
The movement didn’t appear to be a trick to distract me.
Andre didn’t operate that way, as far as I knew.
“I’ve worked with Lescheva and a few other agents over the last few years.
Mostly when Vicente wanted to ruin someone in a different way.
I turned them in. Set them up. Sometimes even coordinated for them to be sent to a prison with their rivals so they’d meet an untimely death.
It’s a quick and easy way to eliminate someone without dirtying Vicente’s hands or reputation.
“But now Vicente has called a war on us, and I need his key players removed from the board. Lescheva was going to help me do that. These men have a party they’ll attend in the US in a little over a month.” He paused, giving me time to digest the information he was throwing at me.
I heard him, but suddenly white noise filled my ears. Until now, I hadn’t known what Andre’s role was in the Institution. I knew Grey’s, Lafe’s, and Parker’s, but Andre’s had been a mystery I hadn’t particularly cared about solving.
Now though? He was an informant for the FBI. Or close enough if he turned people over. They’d never cared about holding me hostage here, because they had connections. What was one girl to the FBI when they had an open tap to take down many other, bigger and more attractive fish?
I’d encountered enough of the agents in DC to know they only cared about making a name for themselves.
“It was never an issue about me being here with you against my will, was it?” I cut Andre off mid-sentence. I had no idea what he was saying.
He canted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Where’s this coming from?”
I laughed, even as the sound was wet and disgusting.
These fucking emotions rearing their heads out of the blue without warning were pissing me off.
“Nothing. I just realized how connected you are. I’m not trying to escape.
I haven’t for a while. But I’m realizing just how impossible my situation would have been if I had gotten away.
It would have been short-lived.” I swiped at my eyes, ecstatic that my fingers had come away dry.
The respect that had been shining in his eyes moments ago dimmed as his top lip curled. I got it. This was terrible. I’d have never made two days in the law office like this.
“Sorry, keep going. What would have happened if I hadn’t walked in?” I set the laptop on his desk and his eyes sparked as he tracked the movement.
“I was saying, the men I would have used would have been arrested or at least taken into custody. There are a fuck ton of problems we could have faced if Lescheva wouldn’t have been able to follow through.
But that wouldn’t have mattered to him. He’s a stone-cold bastard, and the only thing he would care about is the notoriety of taking down some of the players in the biggest cartel in existence today.
And he would have pressured for more informants if he couldn’t get Vicente’s top men. ”
He was a good sport in pretending I wasn’t melting in front of him. Yet he still watched me as if waiting for me to come apart at the seams. And I was, but I had also locked it down on the surface.
Straightening in my chair, I opened the laptop. “I’m glad I was able to help. Lescheva seems like an arrogant ass. Now, about these jobs for Parker—”
“What about them?” He hit the call button on the phone and cut it off again once he had the dial tone. I guess even sophisticated men in crime aren’t exempt from paranoia.
“There’s one particular job that I don’t think he should take.” I pulled up the notes I’d compiled on the Qing Dynasty vase. He tapped my arm when I turned the computer around to face him.
“Why are you coming to me with this? Parker runs this side of the business.” I glanced up and got caught in his stare. He looked so much like Matías. Or maybe Matías looked like Andre. I wasn’t sure, but it was in my best interest not to point it out.
“I already shared this with Parker, and he’s determined to go after it even harder now. But I think it’s a terrible idea.”
“Go on,” he said, skimming at my notes on the screen.
Pointing to a picture in the corner, I laid out my argument.
“This vase is from the Qing Dynasty. Worth about two million. Last known possessor was a man named Joseph Gates, otherwise known as the Curator.” I stopped there, watching for any sign of recognition.
“He was a man who collected children, both boys and girls, for clients. A pedophilia ring.” I took in a shuddering breath.
“Was? He’s no longer alive?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Death unknown, although it appears to have been murder.”
A divot appeared between Andre’s brows as he moved his gaze between me and the screen. “What’s the problem, then?”
He didn’t find it as abhorrent as I did or even displayed satisfaction in the man’s death.
That seemed to twist a bitter knife in my chest. “He had a group of boys in his own…” I gulped.
“Collection. They were saved twelve years ago. I think one of them has the vase or even other artifacts Joseph owned.”
“Amorette,” Andre was losing his patience. We weren’t the same, and our minds were thousands of miles apart in wavelengths. "Get to the point.”
“They were placed into the foster system, but somewhere along the way, they were discovered. Or at least a couple of them. They’re the hottest items in male fashion right now.
” I had actually met Isaac Kim. He’d done a photo shoot with Grace a few years ago.
He was so smooth and pleasant; I had no idea of his background.
I wanted to throw up just thinking about the articles I’d read.
“They’re successful, but they live an insanely lavish life.
Too much for what they’d have made as models.
I want you all to leave them alone. Don’t steal from them…
” When he didn’t say anything, I continued.
“They’ve paid enough. Let them keep this. ”
No change in Andre’s expression. No clues to give me an inkling of what he was thinking.
“What did Parker say?” he finally asked.
“He said that the world wasn’t fair, and if he could steal it, they weren’t protecting it well enough. He seemed almost giddy at the prospect of going himself.”
Andre rubbed a hand over his jaw, the rasp of his stubble filling the space between us. “Parker would. He thrives on chaos and misfortune.”
Yeah, I knew that. But these were victims. They’d been molested for years and never returned to their families.
From what I read about them, they weren’t bad people—no public tendencies for violence or anything like that.
At least on the surface, they were breaking the cycle.
They deserved a bit of happiness, even if it wasn’t necessarily the justice I usually fought for.
We stared at each other. Me putting all my heart into my eyes, and him watching me with an unreadable expression. Sometimes I felt like I could settle in here. Then others, like now, I felt like the divide between who we were as people was so vast we’d never be able to bridge it.
“Nevermind.” I snapped the laptop closed and pushed to my feet.
“Amorette.” I paused in the doorway and glanced over my shoulder. “Thank you. We would have been in a bad way if you hadn’t set me straight.”
I nodded, because what else was there to fucking do?