38 - Theo
THEO
The little café smelled like roasted coffee and cinnamon sticks, with a cloying, ever-present draft of steamed milk. I watched over the rim of my laptop as people drifted in and out, peeling off thick coats, stamping the snow from heavy boots that looked like they weighed ten pounds each.
Nobody looked twice at us, though. And that was by design.
“Pass the sugar, again?”
Colson shoved the porcelain container my way, rattling the only two sugar cubes left. He had his back to the wall, his eyes sweeping the room periodically from our small wooden table. To anyone else, his expression was of extreme boredom. But I knew better.
“You’re a dentist’s wet dream, you know that?”
I chuckled as I added the cubes to my latte, stirring gently. I was on my fourth cup of coffee. Colson hadn’t even finished his first. It could be because he was focused solely on the locals, muttering amongst themselves in quiet Icelandic. Even though he was pretending not to notice.
Still, it felt good to be out, to sit down, to relax — even if it just felt like we were relaxing. Hell, it felt almost like we were cutting school.
“Think they’re having fun?” he asked offhandedly.
“Who? Ripley and Peyton?”
“Yeah.”
“No. I’m sure they’re hating every moment of being alone.”
I rolled my eyes at him, then winked. We both already knew the answer.
“In fact, if you take into consideration—”
The notification flashed across my screen, startling me out of my own speculative bullshit. The moment I looked at it, my heart sunk.
“Shit.”
Colson’s head tilted immediately my way. I couldn’t hide it.
“Donovan?”
I nodded slowly. The message had arrived via some obscure connection path, through a dozen or more encryption tunnels. Retrieving it had been anonymous, but no less unnerving.
“Show me.”
I swung the laptop around. There was no message, no text, just a decrypted photo. Colson only had to study the weather-beaten boards and broken door for a second, to know what it was.
“Damn.”
The fishing shack, back in Belize.
The one where Ripley and Peyton had holed up for the night.
“He found it,” he muttered.
“Yes.”
Colson cursed and grumbled.
“This is him, showing off. Letting us know how close he was.”
“Totally.”
He pushed the screen away in disgust, even as his eyes scanned the doors and windows.
“Think he knows where we are?”
“Not a chance,” I said confidently.
“Why?”
“Because if he did, he wouldn’t be sending pics. He’d be sending people.”
Colson’s shoulders seemed to lower, ever so slightly, at my assessment.
“He’s applying pressure.”
“Psychological warfare,” I agreed. “Yes.”
“Which means?”
“He wants to imagine the rest. That he’s got us. That it’s only a matter of time.”
The door to the café blew open again, and a giant of a bearded man stepped inside. He stomped his feet, then ordered an espresso on his way to the bathroom. Colson’s eyes followed him the whole way.
“So what’s our response?” he asked.
I looked at my screen again. The photo of the little fishing shack stared back at me, tauntingly.
“Right now? Money.”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
Colson looked suddenly interested. “You mean his money?”
I laughed. “Of course. Isn’t that the best kind?”
“You’re talking about his accounts, aren’t you? The ones on the locket?”
“I’ve been studying them,” I acknowledged. “He’s got eight major offshore funds, all connected via shell corporations to his leverage network. That’s the one he uses to blackmail everyone.”
“Okaaay…”
“They’re all layered through additional securities and corporate entities, then subdivided by—”
“Speak English.”
“I want to drain them.”
Colson stopped talking at once. He looked half-scared, half-excited. His expression was all intrigue, however.
“Can you do that?”
“Sure,” I beamed.
“Without him noticing?”
“Well… that’s the trick. I can move them, but I need to do it slowly, methodically. That way Donovan doesn’t feel the ground, shifting beneath him.”
“Death by a thousand bee stings,” smiled Colson.
“More like financial guerrilla warfare,” I conceded. “But yes.”
The whole thing was dangerous, I knew. But could anything be more dangerous than what we were already going through? Besides, in a situation like this, having that kind of leverage was often the only thing keeping you alive.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I closed the laptop wordlessly, without denying it.
“Look, he’s the one who started this game.”
“I know.”
“He’s just never had anyone play to win, before,” I explained. “Everyone just… capitulates.”
“Well, not everyone,” Colson grinned.
“Oh.” I laughed. “Yeah.”
A recurring image of Peyton sprang to mind, racing through the streets of Nantucket with her torn dress flowing out behind her, in tatters. As always, I smiled.
“Ripley’s not going to like this,” Colson pointed out. “It’s too slow, too methodical. He’s going to want a more direct solution.”
“He’ll be fine. Especially since… well…”
“He’s falling for her?”
My gaze wandered to the frosted windows, beyond which the rest of the world awaited. On this side, they were all fogged with the warm, inside air.
“I’ve never seen that before,” Colson continued. “Ripley’s always been a loner. He’s never fallen for anyone.”
“You really think he has, though?”
“He admitted it to me,” said Colson. “Even before the fishing shack.”
The Marine leaned back into his chair and regarded me carefully.
“And what about you?”
I shrugged. “I’ve loved her since the first time I saw her, you know that.” I extended a finger and rotated it in a slow circle. “Way before any of this stuff.”
Colson rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. I didn’t have to wonder where he fit into this whole thing. I’d seen it in the way he took control over her body. I’d heard it in the things he’d whispered into her ear, as he drove himself deeper inside her.
Shit, I could read it in his eyes now, plain as day. As subtle as a brick through a window.
I couldn’t help the jealous heat that rose inside me. But strangely enough, knowing I had to share her made me want her even more.
It was more of a revelation, than an admission.
“Three men in love with the same woman,” Colson sighed, shaking his head. “That’s a tactical weakness.”
“Or a tactical advantage,” I replied.
His eyes moved from scanning the room back to me again. “How do you figure?”
“Donovan has no real friends, no true allies. His whole system of influence depends on dividing loyalties, and using people as leverage against one another.”
“And we’re the opposite.”
I toasted him with my latte and took another sip.
“He can’t buy us, he can’t win us back, he can’t use us against her.”
“And what about Peyton?”
I chuckled into my cup. “Her betrayal was the one thing he never saw coming. That part’s encouraging, actually. Makes me think he’s losing his edge.”
Something in Colson’s expression went cold and hard.
“He’s going to lose a lot more than his edge.”
I looked to the window again. The light was noticeably dimmer now, as the afternoon faded.
“We should get back,” said Colson.
“Yeah. One thing, first.”
I opened the laptop again, and started punching keys. The accounts tab showed everything; scrolling sums of dirty money — blood money — scattered and hidden for safekeeping. A few keystrokes later, I was moving the first of the transfers. They were small. Precise. Barely noticeable.
But they were the beginning of the end.
“He wants to push us?” I said, tapping the photo of the fishing shack again. “We can push back.”
Colson grunted an affirmative, as I closed the laptop again.
I’d been looking forward to being out of the house, but now I just wanted to get back.
I wanted to lock us down for the night, safe within those warm, glass walls.
I wanted a hot meal. I wanted to soak in the springs for a while, and float out under the stars.
Most of all, I wanted to hold Peyton in my arms again. I wanted to cup her ass, and pull her body tightly against mine. I wanted to hear her giggle and then sigh, as I squeezed that ass, with my lips pressed against hers.
My life had never been this uncertain, or dangerous, or this up in the air. But as we slipped from the café back into the street, I was sure of one thing.
I hadn’t felt this fucking good in ages.