2. Hunter
TWO
Hunter
S he stared up at me, all wide, innocent amber eyes framed by long lashes. Her tongue swiped across her pouty lips, leaving them glistening, and it pissed me off even more. What the fuck had Creed been thinking, bringing her in on the job? She wasn’t one of his sirens. She was completely green, and I didn’t have fucking time to babysit anyone, even if they were as gorgeous as her.
Gorgeous, but a fucking inconvenience.
She tossed her hair, sending silky golden-brown curls sliding over her bare shoulder, and I gritted my teeth. If she was trying to seduce me, she wasn’t going to get very far. I was a professional. Creed had handpicked me for this job, and I wouldn’t let him down. I owed him my life, after all. He’d brought me out of the gutters, given me a new life after I was caught hacking into a government server when I was a fifteen-year-old orphan with nothing to lose and no one to answer to. I’d grown up watching him build his empire brick by brick, and I’d been right there alongside him. The shadow in the background.
Xenon .
That was my online name. Few people knew my real identity, and those who did were part of Creed’s trusted circle. I worked behind the scenes the majority of the time, and if I was asked to go out on assignment, I used a false identity.
Speaking of assignments, this particular one involved Federico Fontana, long-time associate of the infamous Messina crime family. I’d been tasked with getting hold of his encrypted phone, unencrypting it and transferring the information to my device, all without him noticing. I didn’t know what the contents of the phone were, nor did I care. My job was to extract the information as quickly as possible and get out of there. Creed was paying me well for this, and I wasn’t going to let him down. Whatever it was, he needed his hands on it before the Irish got to it.
“Let go of me,” Kinslee hissed, and I blinked. I’d completely forgotten she was there for a second, my mind on the assignment.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I repeated flatly, releasing her and heading back over to the screen I’d been studying. I clicked through the open windows to bring up the floor plan of the hotel building, hunting until I saw the blinking red dot that indicated where our mark was. Where I hoped he was, at least. I’d managed to slip the tracker into the handbag of his English mistress when she’d been in the lobby checking in. There was no guarantee she’d still be using the bag, but from the intel I’d received it seemed to be a favourite of hers, and the couple were travelling light, which minimised her chances of switching to a different bag. I also had it on good authority that when the couple stayed at this hotel during their frequent trips to London, they liked to finish up their evening with a nightcap in the sky bar on the twenty-seventh floor. So, if nothing else, I planned to head up there tonight.
First, though, I had to sort out this situation.
Kinslee Stewart.
Far too fucking pretty for her own good. We were supposed to be blending in, but with that sexy-as-fuck midnight blue midi dress highlighting all those curves, all eyes would be on her. It hadn’t escaped my attention that the clothes we’d been provided with matched, either. I yanked my phone from my pocket, sending Creed a text through our secure messaging service.
Me: What the fuck were you thinking?
Creed: You work too hard
Me: What’s that supposed to mean?
Creed: This is an easy job for you. Enjoy the side benefits
I glanced over at Kinslee, who was captivated by one of the screens showing a CCTV feed of an arguing couple, doing my level fucking best to ignore the way the satin draped over her gorgeously rounded ass.
Me: You can’t be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting
Creed: I’m not suggesting anything. All I’m saying is, K’s a good one. You can trust her
Creed: I think the two of you would make a good team
Creed: My instincts are rarely wrong
Me: With all due respect, fuck off
Me: I’m a professional
Creed: I know you are and I trust you. But you work too hard, and you don’t let people in. When was the last time you went on a date or had anything more than a casual fuck?
Me: I could say the same about you
Creed: It’s no secret I’m a workaholic. But you don’t need to be. Get the business done, then you can work on the pleasure
Me: Not with her
Creed: Stubborn bastard
Me: Business only. I’ll take a day off at the weekend
Creed: Three days off starting as soon as you finish this assignment, and I’ll hold you to it. If I see you anywhere near my building I’ll fire you myself
Me: You wouldn’t dare
Creed: I would. Now go. Report back when the assignment is complete. My colleagues are waiting
Right. Volkov was paying Creed a fuckload of money for whatever intel was on that phone, and I was getting a generous cut myself. It was time to get to work.
Pocketing my phone, I straightened up. Another glance at the blinking red dot showed me that Fontana’s mistress was on the move, heading towards the bank of lifts. I waited a couple of minutes more to ensure she was going up, and then cleared my throat to get Kinslee’s attention, jerking my head towards the door.
“Let’s go. As of now, you’re Lindsey, and I’m your partner, Thomas. We met in this hotel two months ago while you were attending a talk my colleague was running, and we swapped numbers. I’ve been in Geneva, setting up a business deal while you continued to study for your postgraduate degree. We decided to hook up again next time we were both in town, and now we’re casually dating.” I rolled down my sleeves and refastened my cufflinks before shrugging on my suit jacket. “Try to blend in. Speak only when you’re spoken to. I need to make contact with our mark, and I don’t need you fucking anything up. Think you can manage that?”
She gave me a savage glare. “Don’t underestimate me. This might be my first job, but I can handle it.” Swiping her tiny handbag from where she’d dropped it, she made a beeline for the suite door. “I have a first-class degree, so that should tell you I know what you’re talking about—not that a degree necessarily means anything—and I’ve been involved in enough shit in my time that I’m not going to scream and run away if something bad happens.”
I couldn’t work out this woman. I knew all the facts. I’d studied her profile.
She had one brother, who was the only relative she spoke to. Her godfather was the dean of the exclusive Alstone College on the south coast, which was why she’d studied there for a degree in business, despite not being one of Alstone’s elite herself. In her second year of university, she’d fallen in with a girl named Winter Huntington, who had in turn become entangled with the three most influential families in Alstone—the Cavendishes, the Drummonds, and the Lowry family. Kinslee had been pulled into some drama involving some highly suspect individuals and groups, and while it had all led to Creed’s involvement and subsequently deciding she’d be a good fit for Pope Industries, I wasn’t so sure that she was right for our world.
There was something about her that made her stand out. She was too fucking distracting for this type of assignment, and that was a big problem. Distractions led to errors, and in our world, errors could be fatal.
I’d just have to get through this assignment as quickly as possible, and then hopefully wherever Creed decided to finally place her in his empire, it was well away from me.
I removed my glasses, carefully sliding them into my interior breast pocket, and then followed her into the hotel corridor.“You’re going the wrong way.”
She spun on her heel at the sound of my voice, and I pasted on a fake smile. Her brows rose, but her face cleared when my gaze flicked upwards in a brief, practiced movement. There were cameras in all the public areas of the hotel. She threaded her arm through mine, and although I automatically stiffened at the unexpected contact, I dropped my shoulders instantly. Affecting a casual pose, I steered her towards the lifts, keeping an eye and an ear out for anything suspicious. There shouldn’t be anything to worry about on this floor—the occupants of the remaining suite were an elderly couple who stayed at The Langton long-term—but it paid to be cautious. I might not have a degree, but I had eight years of training with Creed, and that gave me an advantage over someone who’d spent the beginning of their adult life with their nose buried in books and had never even been on an assignment until tonight.
In the lift, Kinslee fumbled around in her tiny bag for a moment, before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “Fuck yes,” underneath her breath. She pulled out a hairband and facing the mirror, wasted no time in twisting her hair up into some kind of bun thing. Without those sexy, tawny curls cascading down her back, she looked more business-like. Still a standout, but maybe we had a chance after all. I’d have to reserve judgement until I saw her in action.
When the lift doors opened onto the floor that contained the sky bar, I turned to Kinslee, and she nodded. It was showtime.
“This is stunning!” she gushed with fake enthusiasm as we walked inside, and I sighed. Too fucking loud, too over the top. What part of ‘blend in’ didn’t she understand?
Leading her over to the bar, I leaned in, speaking low in her ear. “Tone it down, for fuck’s sake. Our mark’s over by the windows, with the blonde in the red dress. We don’t want to draw their attention.”
“Fine. I’d love a G&T,” she said, barely suppressing an eye roll. I gave her a clipped nod, turning my focus to the bartender.
“A G&T with Tanqueray gin, and a Balvenie DoubleWood.” I fucking hated whisky, but I knew from my intel that it was Fontana’s preferred drink, and so I’d ordered it on the slim chance that I might have to converse with him. Something I preferred not to happen…and shouldn’t, as long as the bar stayed busy and I could get close enough to his phone undetected.
Picking up our drinks from the polished counter, I turned around to Kinslee—except she wasn’t there.
I swore under my breath, scanning the room to see— What the fuck?
She was making her way straight over to Fontana and his mistress. As I watched in horror, I saw what she must have noticed—a couple leaving the high bench seat directly opposite the identical seat Fontana and his mistress were occupying. Only a tall, rectangular table separated the space.
I reached her just in time to see her giving the couple a polite nod, waving her hand towards the freed-up seats. “Do you mind if we sit here?”
Shit. It was too late to do anything now. I’d just have to go along with it, and pray I got a chance to liberate Fontana’s phone at some point.
Fontana’s gaze flicked over me, instantly dismissing me, before sliding back to Kinslee. His eyes darkened, and my jaw clenched. With a nod, his lips curved into an appreciative smile directed at my girl. “Go ahead.”
Fucking asshole. Never mind that we weren’t really together, he didn’t know that, and it was blatantly rude and disrespectful to openly ogle her like that.
Shit. Maybe that was why Creed had picked her for this job. Maybe he wanted her to become one of his sirens, and he’d kept me in the dark. I’d thought the situation called for a more discreet mode of operation, especially since Fontana was currently in the company of his mistress, but who knew? Perhaps that was how they liked to play. If Fontana got any ideas about talking Kinslee into some three-way action with him and his mistress… My jaw clenched even harder at the thought, my teeth grinding together, and I rubbed at my temples, blowing out a breath and making a conscious effort to relax.
When we were seated on the padded bench, leaning against the low backrest, I made a point of sliding my arm around Kinslee’s waist and pulling her close. I swallowed back my anger at the situation, because it was pointless. There was nothing I could do about it now.
Dipping my head to her ear, ignoring that my current angle gave me a fucking fantastic view of her ample cleavage, I breathed one word. “Careful.”
She turned her head, her lips almost brushing mine. “You too,” she murmured, her words barely discernible over the background noise of the bar, and I was right next to her, which meant the couple across from us wouldn’t be able to overhear her.
“Yeah,” I replied, and either she’d leaned in, or I had, because this time, her lips did touch mine. I wanted to kiss her.
What the fuck? It was only my training that kept me from reeling back at the unwanted thought. Instead, I mustered up my acting skills and withdrew slowly, giving her a lazy grin, before swiping my glass from the table and taking a measured sip.
Across from us, Fontana watched Kinslee like a hawk studying its prey.