Chapter 23 The Red Keeper
THE RED KEEPER
QUINTON
Jonathon, Damon’s father, taught me early on in my career that life is a series of transactions. Everyone wants something, and if one wishes to remain on top, powerful and revered, they must be willing to give just as much as they take.
As the the winter sun filters through the curtains in Vivienne’s living room, I forgive myself for last night’s transaction. In our world, where wealth rules all, there are far more interesting forms of currency other than stone cold cash. Sex, in our circles, is often worth more than gold.
I thank whatever god is watching over us that Vivienne Delareux is an insatiable woman with little morals and a thirst for the unavailable.
I’m sure there will be a moment today where she’ll question her judgment, but I have to give it to her, for a woman in her late fifties, she’s got excellent stamina.
I was surprised she managed to go for as long as she did.
It took her eight hours before she finally tapped out.
Truthfully, Damon and I could’ve gone longer. We have in the past. It’s one of the great benefits of tag-teaming a target—plenty of time to rest before the baton is passed.
It’s been years since we were on the same team.
As Damon stands before me, adjusting my Windsor knot with practiced hands, I have a moment of deja-vu.
I can’t even count the amount of times we’ve been here before.
The aftermath. The debrief. Though the circumstances aren’t the same, the memories are there, crawling to the forefront of my mind.
An era where life was nothing but laughter and sex.
It was a long time ago though. B.A. Before Alison.
A smirk clips Damon’s lips as he tightens the tie. "Do you think she’ll be able to walk today?" he asks, his tone casual, the mischief in his eyes unmistakable.
I chuckle. "Enough to get to the car, I hope."
Our laughter is cut short as Vivienne emerges from her bedroom. She's clad in a minx coat and a silk scarf draped over her head. Designer sunglasses hide her spent eyes, her posture stiff. She glares at us with disdain. I rein in a knowing smirk. Oh, she’s definitely sore.
"I think you broke my pussy," she says, glowering at the both of us.
Damon and I exchange grins, unapologetic. "You reap what you sow, my dear friend," I say, hitching a shoulder. “You’ve only got yourself to blame.”
Vivienne's frown deepens. "Assholes. Both of you."
Damon chuckles. "Come on now, Viv. You had a good time, don't lie to us."
A smile tugs at the corners of Vivienne's lips. "It was a night I will never forget. I fear you may have ruined me."
Damon playfully pouts. "You poor woman. How ever will you survive?”
Even through her sunglasses, I can see her eyes roll. Vivienne checks her watch, her demeanor shifting from playful to businesslike.
“We’re going to be late,” she says. “Red doesn’t tolerate tardiness.”
I perk a brow. “And whose fault is it that we’re late?”
She glares at me. “I would argue yours.” She transfers her gaze toward Damon. “And yours.”
Damon and I share another sly smile, and with a sweep of her hand, Vivienne ushers us out of her flat toward an awaiting town car.
“Tell us about this Red,” I say as we drive through the streets of Paris. “I’d like to know who we’re getting into bed with.”
Vivienne lights up a cigarette, cracking the window only a centimeter. “I think it’s best to keep your knowledge of her to a minimum. She’ll get the job done, that’s all you need to know.”
Damon narrows his eyes. “You said you’ve used her before,” he muses. “I assume she’s aided in various Interpol endeavors?” Vivienne remains tight-lipped. He lifts a brow. “Unsanctioned aid. I see.”
Smoke billows from Vivienne’s lips. “Sometimes in order to catch criminals, you must utilize criminals.”
My posture stiffens. “Is she wanted?”
Vivienne snorts. “Only on every continent.” She scoffs at our put off facial expressions.
“Grow up, boys. In this world, you must do whatever you can to remain on top. How do you think I was voted in as president? By sheer determination? No. It’s because I got the job done. I put away monsters. Real monsters.”
“This better be worth it,” Damon whispers to me, anxiously rubbing his hands together. “I have a bad feeling about this woman.”
“She’s our only hope, Damon,” I say, staring out the window. “Your feelings don’t matter. Not now.”
The drive to Red's estate winds us through Paris, taking us away from the city proper.
Our driver steers the car through desolate streets until we arrive at our destination—a mansion guarded by a brigade of well-armed soldiers.
I expected a rundown warehouse or an underground bunker, not a fucking fortress.
Vivienne leans forward, her tone cautious. "They are going to pat you down prior to entry. Cooperate. They will not hesitate to shoot.”
As we exit the car, armed guards approach us and conduct a thorough but swift search, their expressions flat, vigilant. After the sweep, a butler appears and leads us through the mansion's corridors.
When we reach a secured room, Damon and I glance at each other, uneasy and on edge. The butler places his hand on a biometrics sensor, and the pressurized doors glide open.
I blink at all the cutting-edge technology spread throughout the room. Monitors flicker with streams of code. Large data stations fill every corner. In the middle of the room is an ordinary office desk with several computer monitors.
As we approach the desk, Vivienne clears her throat. "Red?"
A young woman with vibrant red hair pops her head up from behind a screen and she sighs dramatically. "You're late, Ms. Delareux. We’ve talked about this before. One more strike and you’re blacklisted."
Vivienne winces. "Apologies, Red. It will never happen again."
Red raises a thin brow, her gaze flickering between Damon and me. "Well? Go on now. I charge by the minute."
“Right.” I clear my throat, giving Damon a wary look before retrieving the satellite phone from my jacket pocket.
I approach Red in four purposeful strides and hand her the phone.
"We need help. This video.” I swallow, inwardly wincing as Emery’s bloody face flashes in my mind. “Can you track where it was sent from?”
Red takes the phone, pursing her lips as she presses play and watches the video. After a minute, she looks up at us, her tone flat and emotionless. “I don’t do extractions.”
Damon steps forward, his expression grim. "We don’t need an extraction. Only a location. An exact location.” His jaw locks. “Please.”
She sighs as if we’re a nuisance. “Let me see what I can do.”
Red plugs the satellite phone into her computer, and the video plays across her screen. Damon and I hover over her shoulder, desperate for answers. Red glares at us as we encroach on her space, and we reluctantly take a step back, our eyes never leaving the flickering images on her monitor.
Red focuses on the screen, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. Minutes stretch into a damn eternity, and I find myself holding my breath.
Suddenly, Red's eyes widen and she hums. "Oh, well, this is interesting."
I step closer, anticipation coursing through my veins. "What? Did you find it? Did you get a location?"
Red shakes her head, staring at strange code on the screen. "No, but this electronic signature. I've seen it before."
I exchange a bewildered glance with Damon. "What do you mean?"
Red looks up at both of us, brow perked. "I think your friend here was taken by Shadow."
"Who is Shadow?" I ask, my unease deepening.
Damon's tone grows threatening. "Tell us what you know!"
Red's guards shift but she raises a hand, deescalating her troops. "Control your emotions, Damon Cavanaugh. The last thing you want to do is piss me off."
Damon scowls, but Red isn't intimidated. "How do you know my name?"
Red gives him a smug smile. "I know everything about everything.
" She glances toward me, seemingly more comfortable with my tame demeanor.
Shocking. "Shadow's a hacker. Not super well known, nowhere on the same caliber as, say, Ghostface, or me.
But they're efficient, and they're smart.
Plus, they've never been caught before."
Damon clenches his fists, jaw set with frustration. "Can you find them? Can you trace this hacker?"
Red leans back in her chair, pursing her lips. "It won't be easy. Shadow leaves no traces, but I have my ways."
Damon nods with a hint of desperation. "Do it. Whatever it takes."
Red smirks. "Well, this will cost you extra. It might take a few days.”
Damon grinds his teeth. “We don’t have a few days.”
“What is your timeline?” Red asks lightly. “I’ll try to work around it.”
“Two days,” my voice comes out as a shaky whisper. “We have two days.”
“Two days it is,” Red says, casually cracking her knuckles before she unplugs my satellite phone and hands it back to me. “I don’t need this anymore.” She blinks up at us when we don’t move. “I’ll call you when I find something.”
“My number,” I mutter, looking around for a piece of paper. “It’s—”
“I know your number, Quinton Marquis,” she says, grinning. “Remember? I know everything.” She nods toward the exit. “I’ll be in touch.”
Without another word, Vivienne ushers Damon and me out of Red's room. As we exit the building, Damon leans toward Vivienne, his voice hushed. "We need to go to the airport."
"Airport, why?" Vivienne asks, frowning as we make our way toward the awaiting car.
Damon sighs. "We're going to Macau. We have some business to take care of."
The drive to the airport is quiet. What is there to say? We’re running on the fumes of faith. It's only when we're settled on the private jet that Damon breaks the silence.
"When we get to Macau, I expect you to do exactly as I say."
I frown, my skepticism growing. "Who are we meeting?"
"The Li Brothers. I had the displeasure of getting to know them last year."
"And you think they're just going to hand over five hundred million dollars?"
"No, they won't hand it over. We're going to take it."
I stiffen. "How do you expect to steal that much money? I doubt they have half a billion dollars locked away in a safe."
Damon pulls out his phone, and shows me a digital invitation to Han Li's forty-fifth birthday party at one of their casinos.
I scoff. "Is this a joke? You want us to rob a casino?" A disbelieving laugh escapes me. "You're not Danny Ocean, Damon. Jesus Christ."
Damon rolls his eyes. "Han plans to display a set of Parlaut diamonds his wife was gifted after the success of an oil merger a couple of years ago."
I blink, processing. "How do you know this?"
Damon shrugs. "The Li brothers talk a lot when they're drunk. And I listen. I have a plan, Q. All you need to do is follow my lead."
I pour myself a drink, shaking my head in disbelief. "Lovely, I've always wanted to commit a jewel heist."
As the jet speeds toward Macau, I glare at Damon. This plan is risky. Moronic, really. But for Emery, I'd be willing to rob God himself.
Damon better know what he’s doing.