Chapter Fourteen
Sadie
I ’m so furious I’m shaking.
Not even the smoothness of Kingston’s inner criminal can soothe my soul as he makes his apologies to Saul.
He keeps my head buried against his chest, a place I like being, which only serves to fuel the fury already burning in my blood to apocalyptic levels of flame.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says to Saul again as I tuck the man’s phone and wallet into Kingston’s pocket.
And then he leads me off and I deliberately slam my foot down on his as we approach the car on the side street.
We get in, but we don’t go anywhere. I tap my fingers against the wheel.
“I’d drive off,” he says, “but you don’t trust me with this heap of junk.”
“Because you’re an idiot. A reckless, fucking idiot.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“I’m getting started,” I say. “You’re—”
“Sadie, what did you get?”
I huff out a breath. “His wallet and phone, which he’ll know are missing right now.”
“That doesn’t give us much time to find out what’s on the phone.”
“What’s on the—” I stop, and glare at Kingston’s austerely gorgeous features. “We’re not going to get into the phone and the wallet will be stripped clean. He’s not an amateur.”
In the light of the streetlamp outside the car Kingston just smiles. “You search the wallet, and give me the phone.”
“You’re not going to get into it.”
“So? Give it to me.” He holds out his hand and I slap it into his palm.
Rage rolls through me again, so I focus on the wallet. It’s empty. Just cash and a few fake IDs all in the name of Jonas Smith. Well, at least he went as far as not going for John, I suppose. I turn to barrage the billionaire next to me when I go still.
His face is lit by the blue-white light of the screen and he’s reading something on it. Then he tosses me the phone.
There are texts from unknown numbers. They seem boring, but one thing jumps out. Numbers and a word.
I look at Kingston, whose expression can only be described as smug. “Well?”
“I think I’ll let you live.”
Enough time has passed that we can drive off—we leave too soon and we’re a target to be followed—and I do just that.
“Do your windows open?”
“I have a terrace,” he says. We’re in his mansion in the sky. “I’m heavier than I look if you’re thinking of throwing me off.”
“Pity.”
“Besides, kill me and I’ll come back and haunt you.” He isn’t bothered by my inferred threat and his smooth charm tries to win me over.
I don’t want to be won.
I’m still furious. And light murder might be on my mind. It’s either that or shove him against the wall and fuck him.
Both have their merits.
I take a breath and spin to face him, hands on hips, making sure to keep my distance. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking we need to do something.”
“That was risky, Kingston.”
He stalks up to me. “You thrive on risk.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Tell me,” he says softly against my ear, closing the gap between us, “I’m wrong.”
“It was a risk.” I glare up at him.
He takes a step back. “A calculated one. I didn’t get to where I am without knowing how to read a room, or people. And I certainly didn’t get here by playing it safe.”
I cross my arms. “And here I thought you got to where you are by virtue of your silver spoon birth.”
“Sadie, you’re trying to rile me up to lead me off the path, aren’t you?”
“No.”
He’s right, I am. Because what I got from those texts wasn’t nothing.
“Liar.”
I breathe out and go to the sofa and sit. And try not to think about last night and what happened against that one. His mouth felt so good, so right, on mine.
Deliberately, I shift my mind from those earth shattering kisses to the phone. Date, time, address.
I know who is at that address, and it wouldn’t take much to tell Kingston. I’m going to have to, because this man has killer instincts. He knows when something is up. “Fine. I just don’t want you taking matters into your own hands.”
“That’s what I have you for.” He smiles. It’s the kind of smile that makes my stomach flip. It’s dark and predatory and it turns me on.
“You don’t have me. I’m working for you.”
“Same thing.”
I sigh. “You found something. Happy?”
“Very.” He sits opposite and crosses his legs and my gaze is drawn to them clad in black denim. I might hate him for being so damn hot.
I grip the arm of the sofa and imagine it’s his neck. Of course, the image that comes to mind is not one of violence, but one of erotically charged—
“The crap on the phone? It isn’t crap. I know what it all is.”
“And?”
Breathing out, trying to keep those delicious, disturbing images out of my head, I continue. “It’s a time and a date and an address further uptown, in Harlem.”
He doesn’t say anything, just waits and it’s like nails on a blackboard, that waiting, because it’s so loaded and I don’t like where it’s going. And if I reveal everything, just how bad it makes me look.
Not that I’ve done anything.
At least, not for a long time. And not to him.
“There’s a collector. Very rich, maybe even as rich as you.”
“Do I know him? Or her?”
“Him,” I say, “and no, you don’t. This is not a circle you move in, Kingston. You have to understand that.”
“You’d be surprised by the circles I move in.”
“This man is very connected. And he loves fine art, jewels, whatever is rare and wanted, and if it’s stolen? He thinks it’s better that way.”
I know this man. I’ve known him for too long. My father goes a long way back with him. My relationship is just in selling the man things when Dad used to make me steal for him. But I haven’t seen Mr. Duante for years. When I had my short-lived career, I kept away from people like him. Oh, I saw him around, but that history from my younger years always makes my skin crawl, even though the man has never been anything but nice to me.
Nice because he wanted me to work for him.
That’s neither here nor there. He’s a way in and I have to go alone. Problem is, I’m not sure I can do this without Kingston insisting on coming along.
I don’t want them to meet.
Kingston nods. “Okay. But there’s something else. It’s in your eyes. You have a brilliant poker face, but I can read you. And I know you’re not telling me something.”
“I think I should go in alone to see. This kind of word-of-mouth event…it’ll be a party…isn’t something you should go to.”
He nods with a soft smile, one that offers the illusion of agreement, and I know immediately I’ve said the wrong thing. I’ve piqued his interest. He’s not any different from the rest of his kind. They all want to get a thrill from rubbing shoulders with the likes of me, and what’s a bigger thrill than rubbing shoulders with a very rich man with mafia connections?
Kingston leans forward. “Sadie?”
“Yes?”
“If you think for one minute I’m letting you go in alone to face some scumbag without me, you’re insane.”
“I get it. The idea is thrilling—”
“No.” Kingston’s voice doesn’t change from the soft tone, but the steel there that’s made of ice jars me, pins me down to the spot. “I don’t think it’s thrilling at all. I think it’s dangerous and I’m not letting you go alone.”
“I’m not the one who’ll be in danger, Mr. Moneybags.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Sadie.”
“I’m not.” I’m leaning forward, too, but my nails are digging into the sofa’s arm and I’m vibrating. “This guy isn’t going to talk to me if you’re there.”
“I’m not a fucking cop.”
“You’re a known billionaire.”
And that’s another mistake I make. And he knows it.
“Exactly.” Kingston smiles again. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m what he wants. Someone with money—”
“He either has or is after the tiara. Your tiara. You see my point?”
“What I see is you trying to tell me I can’t go and that’s not an actual option.”
“You’re deliberately being an idiot.”
“Me being there will drive up the price,” he says. “After all, the whole bullshit with my father isn’t known.”
“The jewels aren’t exactly known.”
He leans back, looking completely at ease. “My brothers don’t appreciate the value of what they have, only the sentimentality. The jewels are known because they’ve given them to their other halves.”
Kingston says this like it’s a crime.
So, I switch my line of argument to another truth. “You’re what he wants, but not how you think. This man can grift, and you like money. He can offer you wild riches—”
“Are you trying to turn me off going or head straight to the front of the queue?” Smiles are gone and now he just closes his eyes a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he looks at me. “I’m not in the market for inflated prices and I’m not looking to start an illegal art collection. Cold, hard money is my thing, not the value of inflated prices that hinge on the whims of others.”
There’s something heart breaking about that, even though I understand it and agree. I think it’s how he says it, like there’s nothing else the world has to offer but black and white numbers and dollar signs.
“I can’t talk you out of it?”
“No.”
I nod. There’s one thing I can do. I rise. “I’ll be in touch about the event.”
“It’s in two days. Harlem, like you said. And I remember all the details. I can get there whether you take me or not.”
“I know.”
And then I leave.
That night I can’t sleep. I try to tell myself Kingston’s a grown man, but I can’t shake the horrible premonition of terrible things if he meets Duante in that setting. No one’s going to die, that’s not Duante. He’s connected, but he’s into the money side. If heads roll in his other businesses, he turns a blind eye.
No, I’m not worried about Kingston’s life. I’m worried about Duante taking from him. Of finding a way.
That makes me feel like an idiot, thinking someone as savvy and sharp as Kingston would fall for that, but Duante is a different breed than Kingston deals with and I…
I’m protecting myself and protecting him.
My business relies on me having a glamorous, dark edge that isn’t sordid in the wrong ways.
If word gets out I’m suddenly rubbing shoulders with Kingston and Duante, then my career could tumble.
Me being there alone is one thing. I can blend and disappear. Being there with Kingston? That isn’t happening. And there are people who straddle both worlds.
No, better I do this. Protect myself by protecting Kingston.
And that’s the real reason.
With that firmly in mind, a plan in my head, I close my eyes and go to sleep.
It’s early in the morning when I ring the bell on the townhouse in Harlem’s Sugar Hill. This isn’t far from Athena’s but it’s a different world.
The woman who answers the door is beautiful, snotty, and probably knows how to kill with one hand. I just smile.
“Tell Duante the Raven is here.”
Her attitude doesn’t change, but she gestures for me to come in and I’m led down through a beautiful wide hall to a waiting room. It was probably a parlor back in the day, but as lovingly restored as it is, the room is clearly designated for people to wait in.
It doesn’t take long for Duante to appear.
The man is short and trim and only his eyes with their hungry, greedy gaze gives him away for the kind of lowlife he is. “Little Sadie.”
“Let’s cut through the bullshit.” I don’t smile. “I know you’re after the Sinclair tiara.”
Excitement lights his gaze. “I’m listening.”
My heart sinks at the eagerness in his words. He doesn’t have it. That’s what his little party is about, trying to get whoever took it to sell it to him. Shit.
I keep my shell of calm. “I’m looking for it, too.”
“Any leads? To own an actual Sinclair…” He doesn’t finish, just clasps his hands.
It would be so much easier for me if he had it. But of course, that’s not how life works.
“I’m here to make you a deal.”
“Still listening,” Duante says to me, eyeing me with a hard look. “What are you after?”
“Anything you hear, pass along to me. Leave the actual Sinclair family alone, and…” I take a breath, and I smile. “And when I find it, it’s yours. For a finder’s fee.”
“Deal,” he says.