Chapter Nineteen
“You need to laugh more,” Flint said into his small microphone, keeping his voice low.
“Let him think you’re charmed by him.” He shifted his position on the rooftop across the street, adjusting his scope to keep Arrow and the mark centered in his field of view.
Through the crosshairs, he watched his mate lean against the bar, a picture of casual elegance and practiced charm.
The target - a hedge fund manager named Bancroft who’d been trafficking omega shifters through fake adoption agencies - gestured expansively, already three drinks in and warming to Arrow’s attention.
“I’m laughing,” Arrow protested. Right on cue, he threw his head back at something Bancroft said, the movement drawing attention to the long line of his throat. Several people at the bar turned to look.
Show off.
Flint’s snake hissed agreement, coiling restlessly in his chest. Watching Arrow work shouldn’t feel this strange.
His mate had volunteered for this after Flint mentioned that in many of his previous jobs, he needed to lure a mark to a secondary location.
Arrow had bristled at the idea of Flint getting close to anyone, flirting, laughing, or touching anyone to manipulate someone into following him somewhere quiet.
“I’ll do it,” Arrow had said immediately. “I can be charming when I want to be. I’ll be his new best friend, get him talking, and convince him to go with me. That way, you just have to handle the shot.”
It made sense tactically. Arrow had spent years in cybercrimes schmoozing with corporate types, and he knew their language and tells.
He had the type of background that meant he could slide into their world without raising suspicion.
And Bancroft was exactly the kind of target who’d respond well to another sharp-dressed professional showing interest in his opinions.
Still, watching Arrow work felt wrong in ways Flint couldn’t articulate.
Through the scope, Arrow signaled the bartender for another round.
His suit had been ridiculously expensive, in Flint’s opinion, although the tailored charcoal gray material hugged Arrow’s frame perfectly, and the burgundy tie brought out the amber in his eyes.
He’d slicked his hair back and wore a watch that screamed money without being gaudy.
In other words, he looked every inch the successful young executive out for drinks after a conference.
He also looked exactly like the cocky wolf who’d dismissed Flint in that bar six months before. Flint shook the thought away, keeping his eyes focused on their target. Arrow’s different now. This is just a role.
“So I told the board they could either accept my recommendation or find themselves explaining to the SEC why their compliance officer quit,” Arrow said, loud enough for the wire to pick up. He laughed easily and sounded so damn confident. “You should’ve seen their faces.”
Bancroft ate it up, leaning closer. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. These old guard types, they don’t understand how the market works anymore. It takes someone young, hungry, willing to break the rules...”
“Bend, not break,” Arrow corrected smoothly. “There’s an art to it, as I’m sure you know.”
“Exactly!” Bancroft clapped Arrow on the shoulder. “You get it. Most people haven’t got the first clue what I’m talking about.”
Flint adjusted his position again, scanning the bar’s exits.
The plan was simple - Arrow would suggest moving to a private party, somewhere exclusive that Bancroft would jump at.
They’d identified an under-construction office building three blocks away.
It had perfect sightlines from the rooftop Flint had already picked out, as well as easy access for the cleanup crew the agency was sending.
Arrow just needed to walk Bancroft past the right window at the right time.
So why did Flint’s stomach twist watching his mate smile at the piece of shit?
“There’s this party tonight,” Arrow said, right on schedule.
“It’s very exclusive - tech executives, hedge fund managers, the kind of people who actually move money instead of just talking about it.
A friend of mine from Yale is hosting.” He paused, let doubt creep into his voice.
“But I don’t know, might be too insider for. ..”
“Are you kidding?” Bancroft straightened and reached for his glass. “That’s exactly my scene. What time?”
“Nine. It’s in a penthouse in Tribeca.” Arrow pulled out his phone and made a show of checking something. “I can probably get you on the list if you’re interested.”
“Oh, I’m definitely interested.”
Arrow’s smile turned conspiratorial. “Fair warning, it’s the kind of party where everyone’s looking for an angle. You comfortable talking shop with vultures?”
“Please.” Bancroft drained his drink. “I eat vultures for breakfast.”
Gross, Flint thought. Through the scope, he watched Arrow’s micro-expression of disgust flash for half a second before the charming mask slid back into place. Good. His mate was still in there, underneath the performance.
“Let me make a call,” Arrow said, standing. “Get you sorted with the host.”
He moved toward the bathroom, and Flint tracked him through the scope until he disappeared from view. Ten seconds later, Arrow’s voice came through the earpiece, quieter now.
“You good up there?”
“Fine. He’s hooked.”
“Yeah.” Arrow sighed. “Gods, that guy’s a real piece of work. He spent the last twenty minutes bragging about his ‘investment portfolio,’ which I’m pretty sure is code for the omegas he’s been buying and selling.”
Flint’s snake coiled tighter. “You’re doing great. Just get him to the location.”
“I know.” A pause. “Are you okay? You sound tense.”
“I’m watching my mate flirt with a trafficker. Of course I’m tense.”
“I’m not flirting.” Arrow’s voice sharpened. “Please don’t ever think that. I told you I wouldn’t flirt. I’m networking. There’s a difference.”
There wasn’t much of one from where Flint sat, but he bit that back. “I know, babe. Sorry. It’s just weird seeing you like this.”
Another pause, longer this time. When Arrow spoke again, his voice had softened. “Like what?”
“Like...” Flint struggled for the words. “Like the old you. The cocky cybercrimes wolf who thought the world revolved around his designer suits and expense account.”
The silence stretched. Then Arrow laughed, but it wasn’t the charming fake sound he’d been using on Bancroft. This one was real and tinged with a spot of self-deprecation. “I remember that guy. He was an asshole.”
“Yeah, he was.” Flint smiled despite himself. “But you’re not him anymore.”
“No. I’m not.” Arrow’s voice turned serious. “I’m going back out. Give me ten minutes to sell him on the party location, then we’ll head to the site.”
“Copy that.”
Flint watched Arrow return to the bar, slide back onto his stool like he’d never left. Watched him lean in when Bancroft talked, mirror the man’s body language, laugh at jokes that probably weren’t funny. All the small manipulations that turned strangers into marks.
The thing was, Arrow was good at it. He wasn’t just competent, he was genuinely talented.
He read people, adjusted his approach on the fly and gave them exactly what they wanted to see.
In another life, he probably would’ve been excellent in sales or politics or any job that required people to trust him.
Or he would’ve stayed in cybercrimes, Flint thought, climbing the ladder, impressing the family he has nothing to do with, living that hollow life he’d built for himself.
His snake settled slightly. Arrow had chosen differently. He had walked away from that world, and from that version of himself. The only reason he was wearing that mask now was because Flint needed him to.
“So this building,” Bancroft was saying, pulling Flint’s attention back to the wire. “You say the party’s in a construction site?”
“Post-construction,” Arrow corrected. “As I mentioned, the owner’s a friend from business school.
The building won’t open officially for another month, but the penthouse is finished.
Consider it a very exclusive preview for the right people.
” He lowered his voice. “Between us, I think he’s looking for investors. ”
Bancroft practically salivated. “Real estate in Tribeca? What’s the buy-in?”
“We can discuss it on the walk over. It’s only a few blocks.”
Flint checked his watch. 8:47 p.m. Right on schedule.
They settled their tab - Bancroft insisted on paying, and made a big deal about it - and headed for the door.
Flint was already moving, breaking down his rifle, but keeping his ear focused on the wire.
The rooftop he’d secured earlier sat directly across from the construction site’s seventh floor, with clear sightlines through the empty window frames.
Arrow would walk Bancroft through the building under the pretense of showing him the different units, and when they passed that specific window. ..
Flint packed his gear and made his way down the fire escape. New York at night was all noise and light - taxis honking, pedestrians shouting, and music spilling from open doorways. It was an easy place to disappear, which made it easy to work in.
Fifteen minutes later, he was set up in his new position.
Through the scope, he could see Arrow and Bancroft entering the building’s lobby.
There was no security yet. The construction crews had knocked off at six, and the night guard wouldn’t start his rounds until ten. Arrow had timed everything perfectly.
“Floor four,” Arrow said through the wire. “Heading up.”
Flint tracked their movement through the building’s skeletal structure, watching Arrow point out features, as if playing an enthusiastic tour guide. Bancroft followed, probably already dreaming of profit margins and return on investment, completely oblivious to the rifle trained on his position.