Chapter 2 – Lenoire
CHAPTER
TWO
LENOIRE
The mistake isn’t obvious at first.
It rarely is. Everything looks exactly as it should when I open the file.
Clean formatting, precise annotations, timestamps embedded down to the second.
All the entry points are highlighted and the camera rotations are mapped in bright red.
This is Preston Blake’s building—reduced to a series of vulnerabilities and poor decisions.
I skim through the specs again, slower this time, committing the details to memory.
I always do before a job, multiple times at that.
The East side entrance has a blind spot that lasts approximately eleven seconds between sweeps, and the security desk only rotates personnel every two hours.
Between the two, there’s an overlapping window just shy of a minute, giving me the opportunity to slide in undetected.
The safe—assuming Blake hasn’t upgraded since the last audit—is likely tucked behind something decorative and expensive in his office.
Why? Because men like him prefer aesthetics over actual security.
For what it’s worth, I don’t do this because I think it’s noble. There’s nothing noble about breaking into private properties, siphoning funds, and dismantling carefully constructed empires piece by piece. It’s not justice or reform. It’s theft, plain and simple. Targeted, intentional.
Entirely deserved.
Preston Blake made my list three weeks ago. Not because of his net worth—though that’s substantial enough to be worth the effort—but because of the way he treated the barista who got his order only slightly wrong on a busy Satuday morning. Most people would ignore something like that.
I don’t.
Because men like Preston Blake operate under the assumption that there are no consequences for that kind of behavior, that money insulates them and power excuses them.
It doesn’t. Not from me, anyway. I don’t fix the system, and I don’t pretend to.
But I do inconvenience the men who benefit from it, and if that inconvenience happens to come in the form of missing assets and significant financial loss…
Well, I find that tends to get their attention.
And Preston Blake?
He’s overdue.
My phone lights up on the table with an incoming call. I ignore it at first, but then it buzzes again, and again. A faint crease forms between my brows as I reach for it, more annoyed than concerned, and glance down at the screen.
Elliot.
With a sigh, I lift the phone to my ear. “You’re doing that thing where you call repeatedly.”
“Well, yeah,” he chuckles. “You didn’t text back.”
I pause, gaze drifting back to the open file on my screen. “I opened the specs less than ten minutes ago.”
“How was I supposed to know that? I sent you that email hours ago and a text shortly after. Both went unanswered.”
My head rears back a bit. “What text?”
“Email confirmation and entry point recommendation. You didn’t get that?”
“No. I received the file. Nothing else.”
Another pause filters through the line, significantly heavier this time. Elliot remains quiet for several long moments until finally he follows that up with, “That’s…not right.”
“Are you sure the text went through?”
“I’m not, no. To be frank. I had Teddy do it from one of the burners as I was running into a meeting.”
Of course he did.
Teddy is Elliot’s new PA—and I have no doubts they’re fucking. Any time Elliot decides to shove his dick into one of his assistants, they always end up sucking at their job, which then makes my job more difficult.
Eyes nearly rolling out of my sockets, I set the call on speaker and scroll through all of my messages again. Not a goddamn thing. “Then it was sent to the wrong number because there’s nothing here.”
“I gave him your contact,” he mutters.
“Then he mistyped it,” I counter flatly.
There’s a sharp exhale on the other end, then a profound sigh. I swear I can all but see the way he scrubs a tattooed hand down his face. “I just confirmed with him… He says he sent it. That’s great, that’s just fucking great.”
“It’s fine.”
“Is it?” He has his angry voice on now. “Because I’m pretty sure we just handed building specs to a fucking stranger with a date and a time.”
“Relax,” I exhort, leaning back in my chair. “Most people ignore unknown numbers. If they opened it, they’ll assume it’s spam and delete it.”
“You’re…very calm about this.”
“I don’t concern myself with things out of my control.”
Elliot chuckles softly, and I have no doubts he’s shaking his dark head. “So, are we in agreement about the East entrance?”
My gaze flicks back to the file and the highlighted blind spot. “Yes, it’s definitely the best option.”
“Are you still thinking Friday at midnight?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.” The sound of him typing echos over the line. “I’ll have Gabe on stand-by.”
Gabe is Elliot’s long-time tech guy—and one of the best hackers in the industry.
If needed, he can wipe out an entire security system in seconds and cause a distraction long enough for me to get in and out.
I’ve never actually required his assistance, but I can’t lie and say there isn’t a level of comfort knowing all I have to do is hit one button and my ass is covered.
“Do that,” I push out of my chair and pad into the kitchen, pulling an ice-cold beer from the fridge.
“Will do. Oh, and Lenoire?”
“Yes?”
“It’s nice to hear from you again.”
I pop the top off the bottle and hang up without another word, ambling back to my desk.
I don’t indulge sentimentality.