Chapter 27 Ben
Ben
Dallas, Texas
Saturday night
Smoke clogs the air, thick and acrid, burning the back of my throat as I push through the crowd. The wail of sirens bounces
off the buildings, red and blue lights slicing through the night like a crime scene in the making—and I’m at the center of
it.
The trick to starting a fire in a commercial kitchen isn’t accelerants—it’s timing. A grease-soaked rag, a conveniently unattended
stove, and a fire small enough not to cause actual damage or put anyone in immediate harm, but big enough to send every sous-chef
into a panic.
Adding arsonist to my résumé wasn’t on my bingo card, but desperate times call for Bond-level improvisation—minus the gadgets,
martini, and British accent. I didn’t see another option after my conversation with Rook and Ramirez inside the kitchen.
“One of Edmond’s offshore holdings accounts has been flagged for review.”
“Who flagged it?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual, unconcerned, even though I was very, very concerned. If someone
had flagged Edmond’s account, it meant people were watching and any transactions would immediately lead back to Ramirez, forcing
him to tighten his security on his accounts. We needed to get access to the YubiKey now more than ever.
“It didn’t come from internal compliance,” Rook answered for Ramirez. “Somebody’s feeding them information.”
Ramirez stared me down. “If Edmond’s people are drawing attention to their crypto accounts, the deal is compromised.”
Rook exhaled sharply. “We can’t afford loose ends.”
The suspicion on Edmond had doubled, and caught in the middle was Cybil. “I can investigate this. Give me a day, two max, and I’ll have answers for you.”
Ramirez’s gaze darkened. “Make the problem go away.”
I didn’t know who was behind the flagged account, but it just jeopardized my mission—and Cybil’s safety. Catching her in the
hallway outside the kitchen was a problem. It looked suspicious—even to me. What was she doing? Listening? For Edmond?
I needed answers—and time.
I needed to buy us time so I can figure out how deep Cybil is in this mess and how I can help her out of it without blowing
up my entire mission.
Outside, the parking lot is a mess—horns blaring, people shoving, everyone convinced they should be the first to get out.
I don’t see Cybil.
Good.
Now I need to move before the fire department extinguishes my chance. I push back through the chaos, into the restaurant that
no longer resembles the elegant den of criminals it was minutes ago. White tablecloths are askew, some stained with spilled
wine. Silverware and shattered glass crunch underfoot, and abandoned chairs sit at odd angles. Smoke curls from the kitchen,
hazy tendrils creeping into the main dining area where I find a man in a dark suit speaking in low, clipped tones to Ramirez
and Rook. His posture is rigid, his expression severe—the kind of authority that comes with being the one in charge. Security?
The restaurant owner? Whatever they’re discussing is more important than evacuating the restaurant.
I don’t know how much time I have, but I need to salvage this mission.
I spot Julian, helping the woman he’d been charming earlier to retrieve her purse from beneath a table.
As he straightens, our eyes meet, and I catch that calculating glint—the kind that makes me wonder if he’s focused on my mission or just working the odds in his favor.
He murmurs something to the woman, flashing that easy grin, before she passes him a card and exits the restaurant. Julian
pockets the card before his gaze moves from me to Ramirez, the message clear—he’s ready.
Firefighters enter the building and begin barking orders at us to vacate the restaurant even against the protests of the man
talking to Ramirez.
“You have a plan?” I mutter to Julian when he’s close.
He smirks. “Thirty seconds of distraction is all I need.”
On an ordinary evening, distracting Ramirez for half a minute would be easy, but given that the night has gone up in smoke,
I need to play this right. I need Seth.
Back outside, I scan those lingering. Most of Ramirez’s guests have left, and the people remaining in the parking lot are
residents of the building and surrounding buildings watching the commotion.
But I don’t see Seth. The last time I saw him, he was circling back to the restroom looking awful. He wouldn’t still be in
there, would he?
“You have eyes on Mr. Holloway?”
Ruby doesn’t answer me, and I don’t like the way that makes me nervous. I tuck my chin and try again, hoping the noise prevented
her from hearing me.
“Ruby?”
“Sorry.” Her one-word reply is breathless. “Had to move because of the fire trucks.”
“I haven’t seen Mr. Holloway in a while. You?”
“No. And my camera angle’s blocked by a ladder truck.”
“There are security cameras facing the parking lot. Check those.”
“Give me a second.”
I spot Ramirez near a curb, Rook at his side, both moving with purpose toward a sleek black car idling along the street. Julian
crosses my field of vision, heading toward Ramirez.
“I don’t have a second.”
I push through the stragglers lingering outside and call out, “Mr. Ramirez.” He slows just enough to glance over his shoulder.
“Unfortunate way to end the night.”
He turns fully, expression unreadable. “It is.”
I take the opening, “I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to meet Mr. Holloway. I know he’s very interested in meeting with
you. I could reschedule a—”
Ramirez holds up a hand, stopping me. “That won’t be necessary.” He casts a glance at the scene unfolding around us. There’s
an inscrutable look in his eyes. “You were right. Bringing everyone together gave me a clearer picture of what I have.” He
glances at Rook, then back at me. “I’ve been undervaluing my deal.”
My stomach tightens. If he’s reevaluating, that means changes—lockdowns, more security, fewer access points. We don’t have
time for this. If we don’t get the YubiKey now, I don’t know if we’ll get another shot.
Julian slides through the crowd with effortless grace, his movements smooth and deliberate. He weaves closer to Ramirez, careful
to appear unremarkable, a shadow among shadows. He gets within arm’s reach, and my pulse races with each step. This is it.
We have to get the YubiKey before all of Ramirez’s account details vanish behind an impenetrable wall of security measures.
Julian prepares to make his move—but Ramirez unbuttons his suit coat, slips out of it, and tosses it into the back seat of
the car.
Julian’s eyes flicker with the briefest flash of frustration, but he recovers instantly. Slipping past Ramirez, he seamlessly
rejoins the flow of people, his casual demeanor never breaking. But as he moves, I catch Rook’s sharp gaze locking onto Julian,
his eyes narrowing with quiet suspicion. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
I grind my teeth, forcing my expression to stay neutral as a sharp wave of frustration knots in my chest. Sweat gathers at my collar, and I have no idea how Daniel Craig wore this in the sweltering heat of Morocco.
“I can’t speak for Mr. Holloway, but I’m sure he’d appreciate whatever opportunity you’re willing to offer to get him into the deal. ”
Ramirez tugs at his cuff, his gaze sharpening. “Before all of this”—he gestures at the scene around us—“I spoke with a broker,
Samuel Baird. Have you heard of him?”
I shake my head. “Can’t say that I have.” I try to recall the faces of those I saw talking with Ramirez before I was pulled
into the kitchen. “Was he the gentleman you were speaking with before we met?”
Ramirez nods, his eyes narrowing slightly. “He was. Like you, he’s got a diverse clientele—international, and all of them,
he believes, might be very interested in the deal.”
That sends a spike of unease through me. The FBI’s focus has never been on the deal itself—it’s always been about getting
close enough to Ramirez to gather intel for the RICO charges that could finally put him away. He’s untouchable for the murder
of Danny Morales, but if we could nail him on his financial crimes, it would give Danny’s family some sense of justice. But
now . . .
Samuel Baird has just added another level of complication. I can only hope that Ruby is already doing her magic and finding
out who this broker is and what his angle is before the night gets worse.
Ramirez steps back toward the car, giving me one last glance. “If Mr. Holloway is still interested in my business, tell him
to come with his checkbook. I’ve decided”—he pauses, a slow smirk curving his lips—“I’m opening the deal to the highest bidder.”
That’s worse. A lot worse.
“What about Mr. Edmond?” I ask, keeping my voice steady. “Is he still involved?”
Something crosses Ramirez’s face, but all he offers me is a shrug. “Up to him.”
I don’t know how to take that. “Will you still be needing my services? If you’re talking different countries, I’ll need details
to get the appropriate paperwork prepared for the transactions.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Miller.” Ramirez slides into the back seat of the car, his voice flat. “You’ll have everything you need.”
Something twists inside of me. This isn’t good. I need to find Seth, get back to Ruby, and call Katherine Scott in to regroup.
But before I can move, my comm crackles to life in my ear. Ruby’s voice is tight with urgency.
“We have a problem.”