Twelve
Lukas
My Little Stray doesn’t masturbate for the next two nights.
I assume that’s because I satisfied her.
Even so, it’s fun watching her sleep. I admit I stare at that footage for longer than is probably healthy, sometimes skipping forward to the points where she turns to her other side, then watching it again at normal speed, just to see her move.
If she were anyone else, it might be creepy. But she’s mine. If I want to watch her, I will.
I know I’m obsessed with her. Who wouldn’t be?
And that’s the problem with who wouldn’t be; someone else will be. Then I’ll have to do something about them. No one touches her but me.
Zurich is six hours ahead of New York, so I spend my evenings checking what Amelia was doing the night before. She’s asleep for most of my day, which makes it easier to focus on my job.
I want this done so I can get back to her.
Andrew Leopold is the target Cox gave me before I killed him. He’s the man who knows the projects Origin has in Africa. I get that information, I’m out of here.
There’s an argument to put him in a basement and torture him, but no one’s memory is perfect, especially when they’re having their nails torn out and strips of skin carved off their chest. It’s faster to go direct to the source: his computer.
Origin will have firewalls and protections in place, but none of that matters if I’m inside their building.
Sentinel Risk has an office here too, and I pay them a visit, putting down a shopping list of the equipment I’ll need. It’ll take them a day or two.
That evening, Bastien calls me.
“How long will you be in Switzerland?” he asks without preamble. “I need you back here.”
Good. I might get to see my Little Stray sooner than I hoped. “Why?”
“The Volkovs may be more of a problem than we thought. They’ve just fucked one of our deals in LA, and you know how I hate to lose.”
That’s putting it mildly. But also, our enterprise is set up to ensure we win when we’ve chosen our target.
Most of it is legitimate, but enough isn’t.
Financial pressure through Northbridge. Espionage and security via Sentinel Risk.
Contractual and regulatory manipulation through the law firm of Armitage and Calder.
In short, we always stack the deck in our favor. Bastien’s frustration is justified.
“Was it a big deal?”
“Fortunately, no. Eighty mill or so. That doesn’t concern me as much as how they did it.”
“Go on.”
“Our intel suggests they’re money laundering for the client, and they basically pulled a one-eighty, put them over a barrel, and took control.”
“That’s careless.”
“Of the client? Sure. They underestimated the Volkovs.” Bastien pauses. “We need to make sure we don’t make the same mistake. They targeted our deal, Lukas. I can’t accept that.”
“Are you suggesting it was deliberate?”
“If it was nothing but a coincidence, we’ll be more careful. If it wasn’t…” He draws in a breath. “I’ll crush them.”
I wince. That sounds like a lot of time I could be spending with Amelia instead. “Let’s not burn everything for a petty rivalry.”
A moment passes before he replies. “If they sense weakness they’ll keep coming.”
“True,” I admit.
“But you’re right, avoiding a war is preferable. That’s why I want you back here. Find out if they did go after us, and if they will again.”
“Very well.” I turn from the window, considering. “If you want Origin done, I need two days, maybe three.”
“Fine. Get the data and send it to me; DeLuca can deal with it. Then focus on the Volkovs. Nothing else is a higher priority.”
“I was actually going to ask you for some personal time.”
“What, now?” His surprise carries. “What on Earth for?”
“Well, you’re always insisting that a married man is a more stable one.”
Bastien scoffs. “That’s to control them, not to…” A pause. “You’ve found another woman?”
“I have.”
“That’s good,” he says, sounding genuinely happy. “But shitty timing. Can she wait?”
I scowl at the wall. “I don’t want to risk someone else…” I can’t finish the sentence. My throat closes up at the thought.
“Juliette’s death was a tragedy,” Bastien replies with a softer tone than I usually hear him use. “You deserve happiness, my friend.”
“Thank you.”
“Do what you need to do. I’ll find someone else to deal with the Volkovs.”
“I can manage both,” I say, a little defensive. “There isn’t anyone else.”
“Montague can do it.”
“He’s too soft.”
“Haynes, then.”
“A hammer when you need a scalpel.”
Bastien chuckles. “And you’re my knife.”
“I’ll deal with it,” I promise him. “Give me time.”
“Just don’t take too long.”
“I won’t.” Now I’ve made the commitment, and part of me wonders if Bastien manipulated me into it. It is his gift, his way. Evidently, even I’m not immune.
“Why don’t you bring that girl of yours to come and visit?”
“I’ll discuss it with her,” I say cautiously. I don’t want Amelia near Bastien right now—near anyone for that matter.
“You’ll discuss it?” He gives a dry chuckle around the words. “When do you ever discuss something with a woman?”
Pointed. Maybe fair.
“This one’s different,” I say carefully. “She’s not…”
“A doormat?” His interest piques. “Is she a challenge? Does she have some fight to her?”
“You could say that.” I don’t appreciate his questions. “Let me get going, Bastien. I have work to do.”
“I’m even more intrigued to meet her. Very well. Keep me updated.” The line clicks dead.
I stare at the phone for a moment, reflecting on how different Amelia is from Juliette. Amelia is a tiger to Juliette’s tabby.
Bastien is right. She has both fight and challenge.
I can’t wait to see her again.
The next day my contact at Sentinel has the equipment I need.
There’s a drone I use immediately, piloting it from the comfort of my nearby hotel room. It lets me scout the area around the target building, noting camera positions and blind spots. Leopold warrants a corner office, and I zoom in, recording some footage of him at his desk.
I work late, missing my usual time with Amelia’s videos, watching the building through the night. Security guards on duty every hour, fewer of them when the building empties out for the evening. A cleaning crew arrives for the late shift, dressed in coveralls with a company logo.
My drone captures it all, even their frequent cigarette breaks, and the way they brace the exit doors open with a handy chair.
I sit up straight, zooming in on that, and grin to myself.
When the cleaners finish, I’m there waiting, following one to the S-Bahn. It’s easy enough to lift his bag when his head lolls against the window. Uniform secured. I calmly step off at the next stop, and take a train back to my hotel.
I have a plan, and the tools needed to implement it. But there’s nothing to do until the following night, so I sleep late then reward myself with a check on my Little Stray.
The cameras in Amelia’s apartment are motion-activated, so during the day there’s no footage. She gets home late each evening—the middle of my night—takes a shower, makes dinner, and the time difference means I’m asleep by then. I play back yesterday’s footage over my breakfast.
Her sister is visiting again.
“—fifty rounds in this box, which is more than you’re going to need,” Lucy says. “Where are you going to put it?”
Amelia has a package open on her table, a shiny new gun in her hand. “Dresser drawer in the hallway. Right by the door for when I need it.”
It’s good that she has home defense; not so good that she may have bought it with me in mind.
“You remember how to cock it?” Lucy asks. “Keep the chamber empty.”
“I got it.” Amelia slips the magazine, checks it, then rams it back in, aiming it at the door to her apartment like she’s imagining me standing there.
My Little Stray has claws.
It’s clear she’s not used to the weapon, yet she still handles it with confidence. Haynes’s profile on her didn’t find a gun license, so she doesn’t have one. He’s that thorough. My Little Stray is being naughty.
Her sister stays a while, eventually sleeping on the couch. I skip through it, not feeling the urge to listen to their conversation. Amelia leaves her with a sheet then heads for her own room. The cameras in there turn on, and I follow along as she takes a shower before bed.
Damn, how I miss seeing her like this.
She soon walks back in naked, biting at her lip as she checks her bedroom door is closed.
Then she climbs beneath the duvet, her perfect body obscured, but it’s her face I watch, zooming in on the footage so that her expression is crystal clear in high-definition.
Eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, a hint of color in her cheeks.
“Lie on the bed and spread your legs for me,” she murmurs aloud, and her knees rise and part.
Confirmation that I’m still living rent-free in her fantasies. It’s as it should be.
The duvet is covering her nakedness, and I don’t mind. The intensity of the emotions she displays is more captivating than her nudity. Her body is gorgeous, but her expressions are sublime.
Her soft sounds of pleasure make up for what I can’t see, and though I listen hard for any more hints, her murmurs are too quiet to pick up.
She’s being quieter than usual, not wanting to disturb Lucy.
Part of me is surprised she’s doing this now, when she skipped the last two nights.
Has it been too long? Or was she unable to resist, after imagining me at her door, her new gun pointed at me?
Her mouth parts as her arousal peaks, breaths light and fast. Her lower lip trembles with the strength of her arousal.
She comes quickly, shuddering in pleasure, and basks in the afterglow.
Then she gives a little huff of frustration and turns off the light, rolling to her side and dragging up the duvet like she’s angry with it.
Was that because it wasn’t satisfying? Or because she’s blaming herself for making me the object of her pleasure?
She’s fighting herself, but she’s losing.
The cameras switch to low-light mode, recording her as she sleeps, the gentle rise and fall of her chest enough motion to keep them activated. I watch her a while, finding it peaceful.
With any luck, tomorrow I’ll be done here and on a plane.
If I can’t be with her, the next best thing is that she’s preparing herself for my future visits.
It helps that she has time to process what we’ve done, to let it sink into her psyche, only to emerge when she’s indulging in her own self-pleasure.
Accepting me within her mind, little by little.
She doesn’t have long to wait.
That night, I dress in the uniform of the cleaning contractors, joining them at the rear of the building during one of their frequent cigarette breaks.
The disguise does its job; the only stares I get are full of resentment because I’m showing up when the shift is nearly finished, not because they’re suspicious.
Someone fires a question my way, irritation in his tone. I don’t speak enough German to answer him, so meet his inquiry with a scowl, heft my bag onto my shoulder, and walk through the door they’ve so helpfully left ajar.
No one says anything further or challenges me. I’m in.
I take the elevator to the floor I want, walking past Leopold’s corner office without a glance.
What I’m looking for is a network port, and it doesn’t take long to find one.
I plug in the implant Sentinel Risk has provided to my specifications.
It’s a small device that will probably go unnoticed even if it is seen, and I only need it to stay in place until Leopold logs on in the morning.
Ten minutes and I’m done. Back in my hotel room, I strip off the borrowed cleaner uniform and send it for laundry service. I don’t care what they do with it, I won’t be collecting it clean and pressed.
When I check, Amelia hasn’t yet arrived back home. I’m tempted to wait up for her, but there’s no need. I’ll soon be seeing her again.
That thought keeps me awake for a long time, but I still don’t check the feed. I’m not interested in videos of her anymore; I want the real thing.
Friday morning, Andrew Leopold logs on shortly before nine.
I imagine him at his desk, coffee in hand, typing in his password as he does every morning.
Nothing to suggest that across his floor, on the back of a network switch he probably doesn’t know exists, a device the size of a USB stick has just captured it all.
While Leopold is reading his first emails of the day, I’m downloading all his files.
Finally, I’m done with this place, and Origin too. Now I can get back to where I need to be: gripping my stray by the scruff of her neck.