Chapter Seven Better Reluctant Allies Than Outright Enemies #2
Flipping it open to the personal information page, my interest is immediately drawn to his photo.
He looks a little younger, but more intense.
His dirty-blond hair was shorter back then, buzzed down to the scalp at the sides.
His eyes are more or less the same, a vibrant green—only the picture fails to capture their spark.
But what interests me most is his real name.
Mathieu Guillaume Maunier. If his listed birth date is to be believed, he’s only a year older than me at a rather sharp twenty-nine.
I take a seat in the solitary chair in the room, kick up my feet, turn on the TV and enjoy my snacks while I wait for West/Mathieu/whatever his real name is. Before I get too absorbed in the rerun episode of The Big Bang Theory, I take a picture of his passport with my phone and draft up a message.
The door’s electronic lock beeps, signaling his arrival roughly twenty minutes later. He jolts when he sees me, and I can’t help but feel a sliver of satisfaction. Now he knows how I felt.
Payback’s a bitch.
“You look constipated,” I say, holding up his passport.
“I was going for ‘blue steel,’ actually.”
“Did you have this forged?”
“Does it look forged?”
I frown steeply. “You need to stop answering questions with questions. It’s one of my conditions if I’m going to agree to work with you.”
He crosses his arms and leans casually against the nearest wall, looking far too amused for my liking. “Conditions, plural?”
I chuck a pistachio shell into the plastic garbage bin I’d dragged over.
“One: You must always be honest with me. No vague wording, no omissions, no answering questions with questions. Don’t worry, I’m not going to pry into your personal life.
In fact, I’d rather get through this without knowing a single thing about you.
Because the sooner we’re finished with this job, the sooner we can have a clean break. ”
“Planning to break up with me already?” he asks with a chuckle. “That’s cold.”
I continue to glare at him, chucking another pistachio shell into the bin. “Two: The moment you give me reason to doubt you, that’s it. I’d rather take my chances with the cops.”
West shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
“Three: When this is all over, I want to return home like nothing ever happened. No witnesses, no one hitting me up for future jobs. I enjoy my anonymity. Done and dusted, are we clear?”
I can practically hear the gears in his head turning as he weighs the pros and cons. Eventually, he nods. “Alright. I guess I can work with that.”
I want to breathe a sigh of relief, but unfortunately for him, I’m not done. “Are there going to be others? As confident as I may be, stealing fifty billion isn’t a two-person job.”
West cracks a smile. “Yes. I’ve got a crew.”
“Who are they?”
“Old friends.”
I shake my head. “You need to give me their names, their aliases…I want to know who I’m working with. You’re also to refer to me as Qwerty, not by my real name. I don’t need them all up in my business.”
“So you get to know them, but not the other way around?”
“If you have a problem with that, I’ll walk.”
“You’re a very thorough thief, Ms. Choi.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
“Yes,” I say as I stand. I brush the crumbs off my lap and step forward, holding out his passport between my middle and index fingers. “Is this a forged passport?”
There’s a devious twinkle in his deep-green eyes. “Do you have a thing for French guys?”
“What did I say about answering questions with questions?”
He sighs. “It’s real. Westley Porter is just the name I go by in the States.”
“Why?”
“Because I, too, enjoy my anonymity.”
I press my lips into a thin line. Infuriating bastard.
That was a vague answer, but we have more important matters to discuss.
“Oh, and in case you get any ideas,” I say, “I’ve helped myself to some insurance.
” I present my phone and show him the text I’ve drafted.
Attached is the picture I took of his ID.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“I’ve programmed a text to send every night unless I override it with a password that, naturally, only I know.
If anything happens to me, your identity will be sent to a contact I trust, who will turn it over to the authorities along with my last-known location.
Screw me over, and it’s mutually assured destruction. ”
For the first time since I met him, it seems West is at a loss for words.
The muscles in his jaw twitch, and his gaze turns cold.
I’ve gotten under his skin, and I can’t for the life of me think of anything more electrifying.
I half expect him to get angry. Start yelling.
Whenever I mouthed off or did something Mom didn’t like, she’d erupt.
I’m primed to be on the defensive, to prepare for a fight.
Imagine my surprise when West simply smiles. It makes me want to grab him by the shoulders and throttle him. Can’t he act normal for one second?
“What?” I demand uncomfortably.
“Nothing. Just thinking…” He sticks his hand out to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Ms. Choi.”
I hesitantly slip my hand into his, noting the length of his fingers and the width of his calloused palm.
His grip is firm but not overbearing—the handshake of a proper businessman.
I’m the one to pull away, unsure what to make of my skittering pulse.
I feel like I’ve made a deal with the devil.
That, at any moment, this will all go terribly wrong.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Who’s the target?”
“His name is Valentino Berruci, a disgraced former member of the Italian mob.”
The smallest gasp escapes my lips.
I haven’t been in the game long, but even I know who the guy is.
I’ve seen his name pop up from time to time on the forums, whispers of his exploits, often bloody and merciless, cropping up here and there.
I don’t know the precise details, but from what I’ve heard, Berruci stepped on one too many toes.
Too aggressive to control and too wild to predict, he’d become too much of an inconvenience for those in charge.
My heart thunders. “You mean the underboss who was too greedy even for the Mafia?”
West nods. “The account you stole from…It’s under my name, yes, but it was his money. I was instructed to move to America under a new identity with the sole purpose of opening accounts for his use.”
“You’re his mule,” I realize aloud. “To launder his money.”
West nods again, this time with a grim look in his eyes. “You didn’t steal from me, Ms. Choi. You stole from one of the most dangerous men in Europe.”
A shudder slams its way down my spine as my mind spins with confusion. “But…if you work for him, why would you double-cross him? Shouldn’t you just turn me in?”
“Do you want me to turn you in?”
“Of course not. I just don’t understand why you’d rather betray him.”
“I’m afraid that’s personal, Ms. Choi,” he says in a teasing tone.
“Oh, come on, that’s—”
“I believe you were the one who said you didn’t want to know anything about me. Don’t worry. My motivations won’t impact our objective in any way.”
I swallow my irritation. We’re only thirty seconds into our reluctant partnership, and he’s already figuring out ways to dance around the terms I set. “Whatever,” I grumble. “Now, please tell me you have some sort of plan. This isn’t going to be a walk in the park.”
West’s charming smile returns, bringing brightness to his face. Most might find it breathtakingly handsome, but I’m starting to see the truth. It’s a smile that comes with practice, something to mask what I’m realizing is his unease.
“I’ll tell you on our way to the airport,” he says. “Assuming you haven’t accidentally landed yourself on a no-fly list.”
I frown. “Where are we going?”
“If I say it’s a surprise—”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“You’re no fun, Ms. Choi. Learn to laugh a little.” West relents with an exaggerated sigh before he says, “Ever been to France?”