Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brie
Macon Chen is maybe two inches shorter, but broader through the shoulders—built for power. A worthy adversary.
His strength is obvious, but it’s not what gives me pause. It’s the way he studies the room, the stillness in his stance, arms loose at his sides, fingers slightly spread. Ready.
His hair is cropped into coarse, tight curls, his skin dark; his eyes give away a mixed heritage—Black, Asian. Useful information, but incomplete. His background is in my briefing materials, and I should have gone deeper.
The way he studies me now tells me he’s doing the same math.
Once upon a time, I could meet someone without immediately calculating the best way to incapacitate them. But that was before this life chose me.
“You said Adrien is joining us?” he asks.
We’ve already exchanged names—and we’re alone. It’s before lunch, but I can’t help but wonder about his staff. Are they missing in action with Eddie Thorne?
“Adrien said he’d be delayed for about five minutes.” Macon doesn’t move, his gaze steady. “His sister surprised him with a visit.”
“Ah. Margot?” He asks it as if he’s trying to remember her name.
“Yes. That’s the one.”
“Well, have a seat.” He gestures to an office chair on wheels that’s currently pushed up against a desk.
I pull it out and, as I do so, he pulls a different chair and sits.
His gaze flicks to the monitors, all currently capturing various doorway entrances and corridors.
“I take it if Adrien sent you, he doesn’t have a problem with your observing. ”
“I wouldn’t know what I’m looking at anyway,” I say, offering a smile. It’s a half-truth. I’m not big on pop culture, and while I would likely recognize any politicians or business power players, any celebrities would likely be unrecognizable to me.
“Is that right?” he asks, flicking imaginary lint off his trousers. “What is it you do?”
“I’m a consultant,” I answer with a practiced smile.
“Corporate risk assessment. Mostly boring compliance stuff, but it pays well.” Our plan is to notify Macon that Eddie’s employment is terminated and to sit back and watch and learn.
“Today was my first time meeting Margot. I think Adrien sent me ahead of him to give him a chance to let his sister know about me.”
“And what exactly is he letting her know?”
“Oh. That we’re dating,” I say, playing the part of proud, new girlfriend, all the while knowing full well if Macon is complicit with Eddie, then there’s a good chance he’s aware my apartment was broken into and that he knows exactly who I am.
“Ah. I’ve only met Margot once. She’s a firecracker.”
“She’s protective of her brother.”
He shifts his legs and his seat twists with the movement.
“Or at least, that’s my take.”
“It’s probably correct,” he says, loosening slightly. “Wouldn’t know. I don’t spend much time with Adrien.”
“Oh?”
“No. I’ve worked for Eddie for six years. Adrien’s pretty hands-off. Works directly with Eddie mostly.”
Well, that’s about to change.
“Are you from New York?”
“Grew up in Rochester. Went to Syracuse University. Worked in Jersey City for a while. Still live in Hoboken.”
“What’s that commute like?”
“Take the ferry mostly. It’s not bad.” He glances at his watch, probably getting anxious with our small talk. I can’t say I blame him. “What about you? Where are you from?”
“I’m from all over. My father was a Marine.”
“Ah.” His grin widens. “Military brat.”
“Not so sure about the brat part… My father didn’t spoil. But yes. And my mom was a translator for the State Department.”
“Nice.” My background information relaxes him, which is interesting. Many people I’ve interacted with over the years would have heard that background and immediately tensed, expecting CIA or NSA. “So what languages do you speak?”
I hesitate, as there’s value in keeping cards close to the chest, but if he’s complicit, there’s a good chance he already knows.
I’m not working under a cover name, and even if I were, these people accessed my home with all of my aliases stored away in bags.
“I’m fluent in French, Spanish, Arabic, and conversational in Mandarin and Russian. ”
He whistles his appreciation. “Do you live in France? That’s where you met Adrien, right?”
“I live in New York. Upper West Side. But I did meet Adrien when I was abroad.”
“And a consultant.” He slides his fingers over the corners of his lips, contemplative, and if he didn’t immediately think to himself CIA, he does now.
My gaze falls to my wrist. What’s taking Adrien so long?
Is Margot grilling him about me? Warning him off?
The thought shouldn’t bother me—this is a job, after all—but it does.
It bothers me that his sister might be telling him all the reasons I’m wrong for him. Because she’d be right, wouldn’t she?
“I wonder if I should go check on Adrien. Possibly rescue him from his sister.”
Macon’s gaze flicks to the monitors. “Have you seen him enter the building?”
“No. Movement would have caught my attention.” Perhaps I shouldn’t have admitted that, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t studying the monitors, but these grayscale screens are of empty spaces. The presence of any living being would have caught my attention. “You don’t watch the restaurants?”
“Dining facilities aren’t open yet. But, no, we don’t monitor those areas too heavily. We have staff in place to notify us if there’s a problem. Really, we sit here looking for issues.”
“What constitutes an issue?”
“Oh. You know. Too much alcohol. Or a substance that impairs judgment. Drug deals—not allowed. Angry outbursts. Fights. We jump on those. The goal is to stop trouble before it starts.”
“And I guess you also step in to protect any women from being manhandled?” The corridors his screens are set to monitor look like the ones that lead to the suites.
“Always. Adrien’s turned this place around. Used to be... Well, let’s just say the previous owners had different standards. He’s taken things up a notch. My take is he’s a good guy. I don’t know how long you’ve been dating him; but figure I’ll go ahead and offer you my endorsement.”
“Thank you for that.” We both smile at each other, and glance at the monitors to cover for a lack of conversational topics.
I could be wrong, but I don’t think Macon Chen is involved in anything nefarious. He doesn’t seem to be a techie, which is how Eddie has managed to pull off his little side hustle without raising any of Macon’s suspicions.
“Yeah, the way this place used to be run—wild times. But d’Avricourt’s really cleaned the place up. Clientele’s increased. It’s been good for business. At least in this location. I know in other countries, laws are different.”
I assume he’s referencing sex work. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been to this location.”
“Oh. Well, you’ll have to get him to take you to the Paris location. I’m hearing it’s undergoing a massive renovation. At least, go when the reno is done.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He flicks his wrist, checking the time.
Where is Adrien?
“I’m going to go find him,” I say. “I was joking, but he may really need my help.”
I push up from the chair and Macon stands. “Well, if you track him down, I’ll be here another thirty minutes. Then I need to make rounds before things start cooking.”
“I’ll be back,” I say, knowing he needs to tell Macon that Eddie’s job has been terminated before the end of his shift. I can’t imagine what could be taking him so long.
I’m stepping into the entryway, nodding at a woman dressed in a form-fitting sheath and sky-high heels, when Adrien steps through the door. My body recognizes him before my brain processes his presence—a sudden alertness, a pull in my chest, that annoying flutter.
“Adrien. There you are. I was coming to get you.”
“Is Macon waiting?”
“Yeah, he has…”
I stop speaking, noticing he’s typing a message. He hits send and holds the door for me. “Come on.”
“What—”
“Trust me,” he says, and the seriousness in his expression raises every internal alarm. I follow along, doing just as he says.
He steps onto the curb and a black sedan pulls up. He opens the back door and I slide in. He comes around to the far side and gets in. He never speaks to the driver, but the car pulls forward into traffic.
On his phone, he opens the notepad app and types, then shows me the screen.
Play along. Someone could be listening.
My blood chills at the words, but I keep my expression neutral, even lean into him like a girlfriend would.
He deletes the words. I glance at the driver and note his eyes in the rearview. Watching traffic? Or us?
I take Adrien’s phone and tap into the app.
Where are we going?
I have my handbag and phone, but it will take Quinn a minute to figure out we aren’t coming back for the meeting with Macon. Jake and Noah are on surveillance duty, but they’ll stay back in the vicinity of The Sanctuary.
Adrien deletes my words and types.
My place. When there, don’t speak or say anything. Can you sweep for bugs?
Holy shit. What happened after I left his office?
Did his sister tell him someone’s listening to his conversations?
I take his phone, delete his words, and the car pulls to a stop in front of his place.
He lives ridiculously close to his office and we could have walked, but I’m guessing he ordered a car because that’s what would be expected.
If he’d walked so we could talk on the street, it might have set off alarm bells. At least, that’s my best guess.
On the sidewalk in front of his place, I scan the sidewalk. There’s no one around. The nearest pedestrian is at least forty yards away. I pull him to me, brushing my lips over his, then acting like I’m giving him a tight hug, speaking into his ear.
“I don’t have the equipment to do a reliable sweep.”
He pulls back, looks at me, nods, presses his lips to mine, and takes my hand.
Instead of going to his place, he presses the elevator button for the pool level. When the doors open, we walk past a room of fitness equipment and into a humid room with a long pool.
Chlorine fills the air, sharp and chemical, nothing like his expensive cologne or the salt sea.
The humidity makes my clothes cling, and I’m hyperaware of everything—the echo of our footsteps, the lap of water against tile, the way Adrien’s jaw is set with determination.
He looks like a man preparing for war, and something in my chest tightens because I know that look. I’ve worn it myself too many times.
“Figured this place is as good as any. They’d never think I’d come here, and no one ever uses the pool this time of day.”
There are several thick wooden doors along one side of the wall, with signs related to safety, temperature, and gender. I hold a finger up, signifying quiet, and one by one, clear the sauna, the steam room, and the bathrooms.
“Okay,” I say, joining him by the pool’s edge. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not firing Eddie.”
It takes a second for me to comprehend what he’s saying.
I don’t get it.
“Why?”
“I can’t. There’s too much at stake. We’ve got to play it a different way.”
The relief that floods through me is unprofessional—he’s not backing down, he’s adapting. His tone is pure determination, and god help me, it makes me want him even more.