THIRTY-NINE
Gigi
Harry lets Hudson Anderson live.
For now.
Not that there was any truth behind the threat, only pathetic bravado to try to wheedle me back into his life again. It’s all fun and games when Harry catches me off-guard, but it’s another story when his concentration is elsewhere.
It’s not that I’m purposely trying to assault his feelings, but my unwanted opinions just happen to slip out, like when we’re planning an upcoming heist. In fact, there are multiple we’re working on at the minute. I keep hearing the words “Gold House” muttered in lingering conversations – an upper-scale heist on a large department store on Regent Street that’s been almost a year in the making. There’s been talk of the owners selling rights to the store, and according to our experts, that’s the time they’ll be the most vulnerable. So the team is preparing everything to hit them at short notice. But that’s not today.
Today we’re overlooking a smaller-scale operation that will only involve a few recruits – not Harry or me, but we’re here trying to help solidify the plans.
The Boss’s arms are folded over his chest as he paces by the desk, listening to our input on how we’ll tackle the situation. Two people are set to infiltrate one of the men who helped lead the break-in at Richard’s office. Russo De Luca, the original man was called. Or something like that .
While they’re arguing about whether to take the front or back entrance into some Italian mansion, I realise something doesn’t seem right. It’s such a small detail. So insignificant it would be overlooked, but also the kind that could determine a heist’s success.
Shaking his head, Harry tells one of the men, “No way. It’s too risky. I’m not losing a member of my team because you want to go charging through the front door. Take the back entrance. It’s safer, and you’re guaranteed to face less security. End of discussion.”
If we weren’t bickering, I’d admire his authoritative tone.
“Everybody agree?”
While everyone else starts nodding I duck my head, remaining tight-lipped. I’m a new addition to this team, and I’m not about to start spilling my opinions with my big mouth.
“Gigi, do you have something to say?” the Boss asks.
My instinctual reaction is to freeze, but since there are multiple eyes on me I lift my head and feign innocence. “Oh, it was nothing.”
“You might as well get whatever it is off your chest.”
Harry watches me with scepticism, staring directly into the side of my face. Avoiding his pools of green, I gnaw at my bottom lip.
“I just think you’re going about it all wrong.”
“How so?” Harry asks, his arms crossed tight over his chest. “Only a fool would think about walking into a Mafia den through the front door.”
“I’m probably wrong then.”
“I want to hear what she has to say.” The Boss watches, appearing genuinely intrigued. “Go on.”
I exhale then ask cautiously, “How many guards are positioned at the front of the property?”
“Five,” Harry says.
“And the back? ”
“Two …”
“Do you not think they could be using more security at the front just to deter you? I might be wrong, but surely, if they know they’re being targeted, they’re expecting a stealth approach – just as you’re planning. You’re choosing the back entrance as it’s easier, but don’t you think they took that into account?”
Without a second of breathing space, the Boss points to Whizz Tech Dan and says, “Research it now. See if she’s onto something.”
“You could potentially be going against two of the highest-trained guards in London or five highly untrained individuals,” I add.
The next few minutes are spent in tense silence, the pressure weighing on my shoulders like a heavy boulder. We turn to Dan when he perks up, his laptop perched on his knees.
“She’s … she’s right.”
Oh my God.
“The two men positioned out back are ex-marines. One served in Afghanistan for a decade, and the other is an ex-bodyguard of some former president in the States, whereas three of the men at the front have been fired for negligence in the past. And there’s no history on the other two. They’re rookies.”
Pride overwhelms my body like an invading parasite, and my shoulders lift in triumph. Surprise flashes over the Boss’s eyes, but something else – stronger – shines under the surface.
Meanwhile Harry looks as if he wants to gut me like a pig, and not in the sexy double-penetration kind of way. I stick my tongue out at him and instantly retract it when his eyes light up with a fire, like he’s picturing all the things he wants to do with it. That’s definitely a distraction I can’t afford.
“We’re done for today. We’ll regroup tomorrow and go through the new plan. These fuckers don’t know what’s coming for them,” the Boss orders, dismissing us like schoolkids.
As I’m preparing to exit the room, people walk past and applaud me with the odd “good job” and “good thinking”. It makes me feel victorious.
It’s difficult to hide the smile that stretches from ear to ear, so I wear it with pride like my scars and strut towards the door – until a hand presses on my shoulder, pulling me back.
“Good thinking today, Thomas. I’m really impressed.” The Boss adds, “I knew you had it in you. I guess you’re more like your brother than I thought.”
What I really want is to cry from the heavens, but instead I return, “That means a lot, thank you.”
“I have something for you.”
Popping the locks on a case sitting on the table, he pries it open and retrieves the contents from the protective foam. It’s silver and roughly the size of his palm, but it isn’t until he fully turns to me that I realise it’s a gun. If a normal person had the weapon pointed at them, they’d raise their hands in mercy and run for the hills.
But I never claimed to be normal.
I stagger forwards with intrigue and ask, “Is that for me?”
He nods, handing it over to me. “It’s just your standard Glock. It’s a great beginner gun, easy to shoot. You might find it weighs a bit, but it’s nothing that won’t take a bit of getting used to.”
I blink in surprise, taken aback by the generosity. It’s the first gift he’s given me, excluding the leather-bound Codex – the handbook everyone follows once they enter the Circle. It contains various information about living in the apartments, what we strive for, and the no-fraternisation rule, but for the most part it’s relatively simple stuff.
Wrapping my fingers around the grip, I press my forefinger flat against the neck and turn it over in my palm. “Wow, I really don’t know what to say.” I meet his eye. “Thank you, but what’s it for? ”
He smiles slowly, a laugh catching in his throat as if it wasn’t intended to come out. “I know I said I wouldn’t take you under my wing, but I guess I’ll always have a weak spot for a Thomas.”
Now I’m receiving special treatment and gifts? Screw letting everything get to my head – I’m basking in this feeling.
I return his smile. “Now I just need to find an opportunity to use it.”
“And in time, you will. I’ll make sure of it.”
The gun becomes a kind of trademark look, holstered around my thigh, reminding people I mean business. Declaring I have a right to be here. Even when we attend galas or events that call for formalwear, I purposely choose dresses with a slit up my thigh, allowing my new present to sparkle in all its glory. One wrong move and POP! goes the weasel. I’m yet to use it on the field, but if practising in the shooting range tells me anything, it’s that I feel powerful. I like the fact I always have something so dangerous so close.
When I say it’s holstered around my thigh, I don’t mean in something dainty like a stocking or a garter; I’m talking about a gun holster. If I’m always wearing this baby, I don’t want to risk it falling.
Like right now, as I stand at one of these fancy galas undertaking an abundance of introductions as the Boss presents me as his latest recruit. I laugh. I smile. I even crack a couple of jokes, and everything goes swimmingly. I finally feel acceptance – something I never felt at home, with my family. I now know why Jack lived for this life and died doing what he loved best.
The only – and pretty major – issue is Harry. Harry with the lingering glances, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a suit. I catch him in formalwear more than I do in casual clothes at this point, but fuck, does he wear the shit out of a blazer.
Tearing my gaze away from where he’s standing across the room, I go back to the reality that we’ve been avoiding each other. I’m thankful for it after his little revenge speech, and I hate how my body is naturally drawn to him in a crowded room. It’s better that I treat us as nothing more than colleagues.
“You don’t mind if I steal the lady for a sec?”
A saving grace breaks through mid-conversation with two elderly twins. I turn to Oliver, grateful for the getaway.
“The lady of the hour looks like she could use a drink,” he says with a charming smile.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
I retreat from the Boss’s friends, whose eyes linger on my body for a fraction too long. While they’re probably eyeing my weapon, I can’t shake the discomfort that comes with their attention.
I take the champagne flute from Oliver’s hand, rushing to keep up with his steps as we retreat from the odd pair. “You’re a lifesaver,” I say, taking a heavy gulp of the bubbling liquid.
“I know when a lady feels uncomfortable. It looks like I came about five minutes too late.”
“You came at the perfect time. Thank you.”
My lips find the glass, and I moan softly at the sweet taste on my tongue as the bubbles pop, tingling my tastebuds. While I soak up the interior of the room, seeing the exquisite furniture I’ve grown accustomed to, I don’t realise the man next to me is preparing to get sentimental.
“I’m proud of you, kiddo,” Oliver says.
I laugh, almost sputtering on the liquid. “Don’t call me that. You make me feel like a baby.”
It’s difficult to describe mine and Oliver’s relationship, but in those weeks that we trained every single day I felt as if I’d secured a friend for life. He’s not just a friend; he’s practically family at this point. He pulled me from my lowest depths and transitioned me into the woman I am today. There’s no simple way of putting it. I owe him my life.
“I am a father after all, and I feel like you’re my protégé.”
Wrapping his elbow around my head, he brings me into a chokehold like we’re a pair of stupid teenagers. He rubs his fist into the top of my hair, ruining the neat strands like I didn’t spend an hour straightening them.
“Mercy! Mercy!” I laugh, repeatedly tapping on his arm. “Fucking mercy, Jesus. Get off me, you lunatic.”
His FaceTime ringtone breaks through the chaos. Releasing me, he retrieves his phone from his pocket, his smile contagious.
“I have to go.” He jogs a few paces away before answering the call. “Daddy’ll be home soon.”
Before I even have a second to powder my nose – or whatever the ladies do – the familiar scent of mint and leather swallows me. Harry steps around my body, taking up my view with his broad frame.
“Are you drinking this?”
“Yes, I—” I start, but the glass is already taken from my palm.
Holding the flute stem between his fingers, Harry turns the glass and raises it to his mouth, pressing his lips directly over my lipstick stain. His eyes are dark, tormenting my insides, as he watches me over the rim.
Forcing myself to swallow, I ask in a voice far too shaky, “Aren’t people meant to avoid the part you’ve drunk from?”
“If this is the closest I’m getting to your mouth, then I’m taking it.”
He takes another sip, directly from the same spot, smirking against the glass.
Despite my insides betraying me, I roll my eyes and act unfazed by his flirtation.
He pulls the glass from his mouth with an audible “mmm” and then asks, “ And who else are you sharing your fucking drinks with?”
Scowling, I snatch back my glass. Opening the clasp of my clutch, I retrieve a napkin and purposely wipe where his mouth was, though I silently hope I’ll leave behind some remnants of his touch.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Apparently,” I say.
As I rid myself of the napkin, I sense his amusement at my turmoil as I turn to a fresh part of the glass and take a sip.
“Is there a reason you’re interrupting my perfect evening?”
“Perfect?” he scoffs. “That’s not what you were thinking when the twins were eye-fucking you just now.”
I pause mid-drink, finding his eyes slowly. “I … I didn’t realise you were watching me so closely.”
“There’s no better sight than you, princess.”
My cheeks flush with heat. “Why are you really here, Harry?”
“Richard has pulled the two of us onto the assassination heist tomorrow.”
“You’re joking.”
He shakes his head. “Turns out your little security-guard stint a few days ago left him rather impressed. He thought there were no better people for the job than you and me.”
Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.
“What about Leroy?” I ask.
As if on cue, the young recruit is escorted in by two heavy-duty security guards. They pull him by his upper arms, and he thrashes against them. The music cuts out, and Harry instinctively grabs my arm, pulling me behind him as if he’s some sort of human shield.
I say in a hushed whisper, “Hands off.”
“Don’t fuck around. Stay behind me.”
At the sight of Leroy, the Boss’s smile spreads, and he waves his hand in the air then clinks the top of his glass with a spoon as if the sight is something to admire. He calls upon the guests as the ring echoes.
“If I could have all your attention, please. I apologise in advance that you must see this, but some of my recruits have forgotten the vital importance of the rules I set in place. And a display of public degradation is the only way I’ll get my point across.”
Leroy keeps a smug look on his face. His eyes are wild and his hair untamed, making him look intoxicated. Even when forced to his knees as if this is a public beheading, he watches the Boss with nothing short of a smirk.
Richard passes his beverage to a nearby waiter. “Leroy has been having an affair with one of our female recruits.”
Hushed responses filter around the room, taking a minute to calm down.
“If people don’t treat my few rules with respect, I consider it to be the ultimate betrayal.”
Nerves keep down me grounded, and I suddenly feel as if I’m the guilty party. When my hands start to shake I clutch them to my chest, fearful that the movement might give me away.
Dropping my voice to a whisper, I lean towards Harry’s ear. “And this is why you will never be taking advantage of me again.”
Keeping his head forwards, he responds just as quietly, “I love a challenge.”
But there’s no time for a response, because the Boss has already unholstered a pistol from his waistband. He raises it to Leroy’s temple, letting a fraction of a second pass before he pulls the trigger, assassinating him on the spot.
Feminine shrieks pierce the room, and a scream catches in my throat as Leroy’s body slumps against the marble floor. Blood pools around his head, spreading quickly.
“May this be a message to my recruits – I do not take negligence lightly.” Referencing a nearby guard, Richard groans. “Have someone clean this up.”
The man in question gathers equipment ready to dispose of the body, and it’s only at this moment I realise my limbs are working. My legs turn to jelly, shaking like a new-born calf, and I fight hard to stiffen them.
Clutching onto the back of Harry’s suit for stability, I hiss, “You want one of us to die?”
“Baby,” he replies, his voice low and all for me, “if I can’t have you in this life, you can bet your fucking ass I’m claiming you in death.”