Chapter 30
Frame
THEO
Itap my pen against the stack of reports in front of me, trying to keep my expression blank, my body relaxed.
The NYPD should have called by now. It’s taking too long. Did something go wrong? Did the match not spark? Did anyone even notice? Or did something, somehow, go wrong?
Through the glass walls of my office, Safia glances up from her desk, her eyes meeting mine.
For a second, I tense, then catch the reassuring smile tugging at her lips.
I can hear her melodic voice in my head.
Relax. Be patient. Everything is fine. She’s right.
After eighteen years of waiting, what’s another ten minutes?
In the last three days, we’ve gone over every detail, every possible contingency. This is going to work. The fire will be just the beginning.
My thoughts flicker back to last night, how she followed me without hesitation, shadowing me into the darkness of Brooklyn.
When we first entered the unit, a shiver ran down her spine.
I understood her momentary apprehension.
I did kill five men in that room. But Safia recovered quickly, and we got to work.
While I rigged the electrical, she expertly staged the unit: the whip, the chains, the disinfectant, and the pièce de résistance.
Minimal damage, maximum impact.
A sharp ring snaps me back to reality. It’s the command center’s main line.
Safia glances at the phone, then at Gigi, who reaches over to answer it. Safia leans back in her chair, her expression casual, almost disinterested. But I know better. The tilt of her head, the slight curve of her mouth—they’re telltale signs she’s listening closely.
I countdown the seconds until it’s go time.
Gigi frowns, focused on the phone call. When she looks over her shoulder at me, I sit up straighter, masking the satisfaction that’s building inside.
This is it.
She hangs up and strides toward my office, knocking three times.
“Kane,” she says, tone urgent. “Electrical fire at a storage facility in Brooklyn. NYPD found some…unusual items. They think it’s related to our case.”
Right on schedule.
“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing my jacket. Gigi steps aside as I head out of my office. I point to Safia and wave her over. “We’re going on a field trip. Care to join us?”
Safia blinks as if caught off guard, playing the part well. “Field trip?”
“We may have found the unsub’s secondary location,” Gigi explains, adjusting her holster. “Let’s hope the fire didn’t destroy everything.”
Not everything.
The drive to Brooklyn is charged with eager anticipation.
I glance over at Safia. To anyone else, she’d seem deep in thought, perhaps contemplating the possibility that we’re about to walk into the remains of a killer’s fortress.
But I know better. I know that beautiful mind of hers isn’t wondering what we’ll find when we get to the storage facility—she’s wondering how Gigi will react when she sees it.
Gigi’s quiet in the back seat, tapping her fingers against her knee, her body tense with the unknown. She has no idea that she’s stepping right into the trap we’ve laid.
Gigi is a good agent—she’s smart, agile, quick. I appreciate her intellect and ability to get the job done. But today, she’s just another pawn. I’d feel bad for pulling the wool over her eyes, but this is bigger than one person.
The storage facility looms ahead, a gray, run-down building. As we pull in, I catch the scorched black marks left by the small fire, the smoke still faint in the air.
The smell of charred metal and burnt rubber hits us as we park the SUV, climbing out.
A controlled fire is still a fire.
Detective Lee from the NYPD waves us over, gesturing for us to follow him. “We managed to contain the fire,” he says, leading us toward unit thirty-seven. “But what we found inside... Well, you’re gonna want to see it.”
I exchange a knowing look with Safia.
“After you,” I say, gesturing forward, keeping my expression neutral.
She gives a quick nod, her face a mix of curiosity and dread—it’s almost convincing. She steps inside the unit, and I follow her, adjusting my features into a mask of mild horror.
A thick metal chain hangs from the ceiling, singed but intact, swaying slightly in the smoky air.
Bottles of disinfectant sit on a charred table next to several carving knives.
A leather whip lies on the ground, its handle singed and darkened by the heat but otherwise in great shape.
In the corner of the room, shattered vials and scattered needles lie among the debris.
They’ll test it. It’ll come back positive for fentanyl.
A handful of forensic techs scour the room, setting up evidence markers and taking particulate samples.
My gaze shifts to the technician in the front right corner of the room, focused intently on a plastic face shield.
This corner, untouched by the flames, holds the first remnants of a calculated plan.
She holds the mask carefully, her gloved fingers expertly examining the tiny plastic hinges along the sides.
I hold my breath, my heartbeat steady but expectant.
“I think I got something,” she calls out, looking up at us. “Check this out.” She turns her attention back to the mask, her fingers tracing along its edges. “I think there’s a hair follicle trapped in here.”
A hair follicle—the very one I meticulously lifted from Edward Vaughan-Morris’s shoulder the night of the Black and White Ball. It physically pained me to shake that man’s hand, but for the greater good, I’d bow to the devil if I had to.
I nod to the tech, playing my role. “Bag it. We’ll send it off for analysis. Maybe we’ll get a hit.”
Oh, we’ll get a hit alright.
“I assume this unit is registered,” Safia says, looking around. “Did you get a name yet?”
“Yeah.” Detective Lee checks his notes. “Connor Wright. We had our guys run it through the NCIC and DMV database—nothing.”
“Probably a fake name,” Gigi chimes in, fishing out her phone. “But maybe Zoey’ll have better luck.” She sighs, scrunching her nose at the sudden waft of burnt rubber. “Security cameras?”
“None,” Detective Lee says. “No entry tracking either. This place is old school. Nothing digital.”
“Great.” Gigi scowls. “I love that for us.” She shoots off a quick text message, most likely to Zoey. “He pay in cash?”
“Yup,” Detective Lee says. “All cash. A year up front.”
“Of course.” Gigi types out another message.
“Let’s hope we get something from the hair follicle.
” She glances at the leather whip being tagged.
“Maybe we’ll even get a print.” After a beat, Gigi claps her hands.
“Right, well, I’m going to step out because it smells like fucking ass in here.
” Her gaze shifts between me and Safia. “I’ll meet you back at the SUV, yeah? ”
We both nod, and Gigi struts away.
Detective Lee scratches the back of his neck. “So…this look like your guy?”
Safia glances around the unit slowly, sighing. “We’ll find out soon, won’t we?”
“Here’s hoping,” Detective Lee hums. A tech calls out, waving him over, and he excuses himself, walking away.
Safia purses her lips, casting me a slight frown. “Connor Wright?”
I give her a small, knowing smile as we step outside of the storage unit. “You’ll see.”
I lean back in my chair, drumming my fingers against my desk. The command center is filled with quiet chatter and the clicking of keyboards, but I’m stuck in my own thoughts, counting the seconds like a heartbeat.
Where the fuck are those DNA results?
Across the room, I catch a glimpse of Safia. Her gaze flickers toward me, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.
We share a silent conversation—it’ll all be over soon. We’ve barely had a moment alone together. I miss her lips. Her touch. The way her toes curl when I stretch her sweet cunt open with my—
“Hey!” Zoey calls out from her desk. “I’ve got something!”
Safia and I exchange a glance, eyebrows raised in unison. Finally. I exit my office, joining Safia and Gigi around Zoey’s desk.
“I found five Connor Wrights,” Zoey says. “One lives in Hawaii, another in California, one in New Mexico, one in Maine, and one in Texas.” She takes a short breath. “Two of them are just kids, two are in their eighties, and one is a sheriff in a small town in Texas.”
I hold my breath.
“Pull up info on the sheriff,” Gigi instructs Zoey without missing a beat.
Almost there.
Zoey nods, clacking away on the keyboard.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” she mutters, her screen lighting up with information.
“Alright. Connor Wright, age forty-five, married with two kids. No debt, average credit score…” She pauses, her brows furrowing.
“Oh, wait. He was a trainee agent for the DEA. That’s weird. ”
Yes...
“He graduate?” Gigi asks.
“No.” Zoey’s frown deepens as she continues reading. “Looks like he…failed the written exam. Twice.”
Gigi crosses her arms. “When was this?”
Zoey reads off the screen. “Eighteen years ago this year.”
Gigi opens her mouth to ask another question, but the door to the command center swings open. Agent Sam Williams strides in, flanked by a forensics tech. Williams looks in our direction and Zoey stiffens, avoiding eye contact with him as he approaches us.
“We got a hit on the DNA,” he says, his voice low and grave.
My pulse quickens from the adrenaline of it all.
“And…?” I press, trying to stifle the excitement creeping into my tone.
Williams swallows hard, handing me the findings. “It’s Edward Vaughan-Morris.”
Fuck, it takes everything in me not to smile.
Gigi’s jaw drops in disbelief. “I’m sorry…what?”
“Vaughan-Morris? Director of the DEA Vaughan-Morris?” Zoella asks.
“Yes,” Williams replies, shoulders tensing as he tears his gaze away from Zoey. “What do you want to do, Kane?”
I suck in a sharp breath, feigning contemplation. “We get a warrant to search his home and office. We do our job.”
Gigi shakes her head, still reeling. “There must be some sort of mistake. I mean, he’s a federal agent. He was nominated by the president. He couldn’t…”
Zoey snaps her head up. “People have many faces, Giselle,” she retorts sharply. “You never really know someone, do you?”
Gigi swallows hard, her confidence faltering. “I’ll go make some calls.”
Williams lingers by Zoey’s desk, clearly uncomfortable. “Do you need any—”
“Nope,” Zoey cuts him off, her tone icy. “You can go.”
“Zoey,” Safia says, exchanging a curious look with me. “Are you okay?”
Zoey types on her keyboard, retreating into her own world. “I’m fine, just tired.”
Safia bites her lip. “Do you want me to bring you a coffee?”
“Great idea,” Zoey snaps, although I’m suspecting her anger should be directed to a certain six-foot-two agent with a buzz cut. “Two cream, two sugar.”
“I think everyone could use a little pick-me-up.” I glance at Safia. “Coffee run?”
She nods, unable to hide the excitement that we get a moment of reprieve from the chaos of our own creation.
Safia and I settle into a far booth at Silver Spoon Diner, waiting for Delta to complete our take-away order. Safia leans against the tattered fabric, her shoulders stiff.
“Relax, little lamb,” I whisper, reaching across the semi-sticky table. “Everything is going according to plan.”
She threads her fingers through mine and lets out a tiny sigh. “I hate lying to Gigi.”
My expression darkens. “It’s necessary.”
She shoots me a scowl. “I’m aware, Theodore. But still…I don’t like it.”
I stroke her soft skin, attempting to soothe her muddled morality.
“Do you regret it?” I ask in a quiet murmur, my heart pounding in my ears as my gaze sweeps across her conflicted features. “Do you wish you never met me?”
She tilts her head, a soft smile gracing her beautiful fucking face.
“Do you?” she asks. “I’m a rather large liability.”
My answer comes unfiltered, too quick and too honest. “You’re a risk I was willing to take.”
She reins in an airy laugh. “For an intelligent man, you’re often quite foolish, aren’t you? You took a big gamble, Theo. I could have easily ran for the hills.”
I smirk. “I would’ve chased you.”
She perks a brow, her tone tinged with dark humor. “With a leather whip and carving knife?”
My face hardens. “Not funny.”
She shrugs. “It’s a valid question. I assume you’d do anything to complete your…mission. If someone got in your way, wouldn’t you eliminate the threat?”
My jaw ticks. “Do you honestly think I would ever harm you?”
She purses her lips, her unreadable gaze flitting across my face. “What would you have done if my reaction to your crusade wasn’t as…agreeable?”
“The truth?”
She blinks. “What else?”
I sigh, the horrid alternative reality burning my tongue. “I’d tie you up and keep you hidden until the job was done. There’d be a seventh victim, and no one would ever see me again.”
Her chest rises as she takes a deep breath. “You’d leave me?”
“Unwillingly,” I say, “but yes.” I bring her knuckles to my lips. “But I'd watch you, little lamb, from whatever part of the world I’d call home. I’d watch you until the day I died.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t believe that.”
I frown. “No?”
“No. I don’t think you’d be able to stay away.
The moment another man showed me any sort of attention, I think you’d come back.
I think you’d break into my house, climb into my bed, and fuck me so hard I’d never want another man’s attention.
” She pauses, and my fucking heart hammers against my ribs, my cock twitching at the thought. “I think that’s more plausible.”
“Careful, little lamb,” I rasp. “You’re giving me some wild ideas.”
“And that’s all they’ll remain—ideas. Luckily for you, Agent Kane, my morals seem to be quite pliable given the right circumstances.” She nods over my shoulder as the bell above the front door of the diner chimes. “Incoming.”
Zoey speed walks toward us, panting. “Gigi got the warrants. She and Sam—I mean, Williams—are on their way to Vaughan-Morris’s home now. Do you guys want to take his office?”
I glance at Safia, and I don’t want this moment to end. Not yet. Plus, we have one more thing to take care of before the day is over.
“Tell Conrad and Fitz to take the office. I’ll have my phone on me if they need me.”
When Zoey exits the diner, Safia perks a brow. “You sure you want to do this? The dark web is a dangerous place.”
I smirk. “Then I should feel right at home.”
“Well, let’s hope this Red person knows what they’re doing,” she says, glancing at Delta, who waves us over, four take-away drink trays ready for us on the counter. She sighs. “Shall we, Agent Kane?”
I stand up. “After you, Dr. Hadid.”