Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sometimes, it paid to be bad.
Esme Laurent sat on top of the interrogation room table. Her legs swung out in front of her as she waited for the authorities to trickle inside. Hopefully, they’d come with major apologies.
Her gaze darted to the clock on the wall. Nearly six a.m. She’d been in that incredibly boring FBI office for hours. She’d cooperated. Somewhat. And she’d been waiting patiently. Again, somewhat.
She’d offered her terms to the Fed who’d been milling around the most. Grayson Stone. He seemed to be the man in charge of the investigation that was her life. Though, really, why waste time with her? There were much worse criminals out there and?—
The door opened.
Her U.S. Marshal appeared. Esme didn’t even try to hide the giant smile that burst across her face. How could she? She was far too happy to see him. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away.” Her legs swung out again.
He looked down at her feet .
Her high heels had long since fallen off, and her bare toes wiggled at him.
A frown pulled at his features. Such sexy, rugged features. Not necessarily handsome, though she had called him that before. The man had an incredible jaw. Hard and square and currently covered with a bit of stubble that she itched to feel against her palm. His eyes were a steely blue that—when they fixed on you and they were certainly fixed on Esme right then—those eyes of his seemed to see right into her. Dark hair. Cut a little too short. Sharp cheekbones. Strong nose. High forehead and?—
He marched toward her. Towered over her.
Ah, yes. Something else that Esme enjoyed about her marshal? He was big. He’d ditched the tux that he’d seemed to hate and now wore a black t-shirt and faded jeans. The t-shirt appeared to be in danger of absolutely ripping at the shoulders. The marshal worked out. A lot.
Good for him.
He took out five guys and didn’t even break a sweat. The man showed zero fear when a gun was shoved at him.
And the glare currently on his face? Well, it took his features from sexy to a downright diabolical level of dangerousness.
Be still, my heart.
“We haven’t gotten hold of your father.”
Oh, the other guy had entered the room. Grayson. He was talking. Tyler was busy staring at her, and she was happy to stare back.
“He’s out of the country,” Grayson continued.
Her eyes did a little roll. Right. Like she didn’t know where her father was.
“But we have verified your identity. You’re Esme Laurent, age twenty-seven, daughter of the French Ambassador and his Italian opera singer wife.”
Her mother had died years ago. On the eve of Esme’s sixteenth birthday. She hadn’t celebrated a birthday since that fateful day. Actually, she hadn’t celebrated much at all in her life.
Not information for the Fed and the still glaring Marshal to know.
“We have intelligence that ties you to a string of high-end robberies. Art thefts. Jewel heists. Antique disappearances.”
Tyler was staring so intently at her as his friend rambled.
For fun, she winked at Tyler.
His stare became all the more intense. He was a delight.
“You were caught red-handed tonight,” Gray added in his no-nonsense tone. “There has never been enough evidence to link you concretely to anything before. Hell, most of your crimes occurred in other countries, so the stories about you—they were all smoke and mirrors. The Feds have spent the last six hours trying to piece all the details together. Half of the intel my team is gathering about you seems to be bullshit.”
She shrugged. “What’s the saying? You’re smart if you believe absolutely nothing that you hear and only about half of what your eyes can see? Or something like that.” Her head tilted to the side. Her hair slid over her shoulder. “Don’t actually remember who first said those words. Was it Poe? I do love his stories. So twisted and dark.” Her index finger tapped her chin. “Maybe it was Franklin. I just can’t say for certain.” Her index finger tapped again. “Oh, well. I’m sure it will come to me later.” Her head turned toward Grayson. “I’ve been here long enough.” She’d been good long enough. “And I haven’t been charged with a single crime.”
His jaw—almost as hard as Tyler’s—clenched. A muscle jerked along his clenched jaw as he closed in on her. “My boss wants me to offer you a deal.”
Her eyes widened. “A deal? When I haven’t been charged with any crime? How would that work?”
“You had the jewels on you,” Tyler said.
Ah, yes, there it was again. That deep, rumbly voice that she adored. Just hearing it made her want to shiver in delight. Not that she was the shivering-in-delight type. At least, not usually. But there was just something about this marshal that made her want to break all of her usual rules.
Rule one? Never fall for the good guy. And, yet, well, here she was. Falling. Lusting.
Her focus zeroed in on him. “I bet you have never met a rule that you didn’t like.”
His blue eyes narrowed on her.
“Let me guess, were you a Marine once upon a time? You do have that vibe about you.” Her tongue licked across her lower lip. “Semper Fi?” Her heart drummed hard in her chest. “What does that motto mean again? Would you remind me?”
“Always faithful,” he rumbled.
Oh, that rumble. Her toes might have curled. “That’s what I thought.”
“How did you know he was a Marine?” Grayson asked.
“A lucky guess.”
Grayson crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t buy that. I don’t think you’re the guessing type, lady. I think you’re a criminal straight to your beautiful core.”
Tyler shot him an annoyed glare.
Grayson ignored the glare. “And I think you’re playing some kind of game with me. With us all. I want answers. I want them now.”
“We don’t necessarily get what we want in this world.” Her gaze raked Tyler. Always faithful. It was all she could do not to sigh again. No, in this world, we did not always get what we wanted. But sometimes… we did.
“My boss wants to offer you a deal,” Grayson repeated, as if she’d missed the words the first time. “He talked to some contact he has at the CIA, and they are both about to shit themselves.”
She winced. “I’m sure there is a medicine for that.”
Wait, did Tyler’s lips almost twitch? She thought they had. Good to know that, buried ever so deeply inside her marshal, there was a sense of humor.
“They have this idea that you’re some big, fucking player in an international game.” Grayson was still prattling on about something. Oh, right. The something in question was her. His prattles focused on her.
“What?” Esme twirled a lock of her hair and strove to appear innocent. “Little old me? A big player? I am flattered.” Her feet swung again. Lazily.
“You’re also on an international hit list.” From Grayson once more.
At his revelation, she stopped swinging her feet. “Say that again?”
But it was Tyler who stepped forward. He stepped so close that his crisp, masculine scent teased her nose. “You don’t sound French.”
“No?” Her brows shot up. “ Je veux te baiser .”
Grayson choked.
A faint furrow appeared between Tyler’s steely blue eyes.
She rolled one shoulder. “I have lived all over the world. My father— mon père, if that makes me sound more French—has been an ambassador for a very long time. I speak five languages fluently, and I can adopt any accent necessary in order for that language to sound very, very clear. Mon père always said that speaking as clearly as possible to your audience is necessary. Very important in diplomacy. Being understood, that is. If you’re not understood by the people you’re communicating with, then chaos will reign.” When she’d been a child, her mother had called her chaos. A special little nickname.
She’d loved her mother.
Grayson slapped his hand down on the table near her.
She frowned at him. Had there been some point in that slap against the wood?
“Could we get back to the international hit list?” Grayson gritted out.
Her heart rate had kicked up even more, but she kept her voice cool as she inquired, “A hit list, you say? On moi? ”
“Reporters got wind of the robbery last night. Not just the crew that we arrested, but your involvement, too. A picture of you—cuffed and being placed in a patrol car—has made the rounds on the Internet.”
She slanted a glance at Tyler. “That was your fault. You are way too into bondage.”
Did a faint red stain those incredible cheekbones of his? Adorable.
“The Feds have teams that work the dark web. All of the chatter they’re picking up suggests that certain very dangerous parties believe you’re the international thief known as the Fox. So named because the thief is supposed to be damn cunning, sly, and exceedingly elusive.” Grayson was clearly the chatty one in the friend group.
Meanwhile, her marshal was the tall, dark and dangerously silent type. That was fine. She could chat enough for the both of them. “I am? I’m the Fox? ” When you made the words sound like a question, they didn’t count as a confession. Fun point.
“You’re an international thief,” Grayson charged. “A thief who has made certain parties very, very angry. We found a hit on you on the dark web. Five million dollars.”
Just five million? That was what her life was going for these days? Should she be insulted?
“And because of the picture and the press and the power of social media, you’re going to be hunted now,” Grayson continued in his doom-and-gloom voice. “The photo proves to certain nefarious parties that you are the Fox. You know, the parties that you stole items from over the years?”
As if she’d admit any guilt. But…
“A deal,” Grayson said again. Third time? Did he think it would be the charm for her? “That’s what my boss will offer you. He thinks you have the power to bring down some very powerful individuals. A whole criminal operation that has been working in tangent internationally. He wants you to help us.”
She nodded. “He wants my help because I have such a generous, caring nature?” Do not blow this now, Esme. Stay focused. The goal is within reach. Do not look overly eager.
“Because he thinks you’re embedded in the criminal world up to those lovely, dark eyes of yours?—”
Tyler’s growl cut through Grayson’s words.
Grayson shot him a glance. “What? The woman is gorgeous, but she is a criminal.”
“Alleged,” Esme corrected him. “ Alleged criminal.”
Tyler put his hand down on the table. Not a hard slap the way Grayson had done. Grayson had been trying to intimidate her with the sudden, loud movement. But Tyler just softly slid a hand down on the wood. He leaned in close to her. Seemed to surround her.
She sucked in a breath.
“Sweetheart…”
Oh, that was promising.
“You had the diamonds strapped to your thigh,” Tyler reminded her. As if she needed the reminder. She knew exactly where they’d been. His eyes gleamed at her. “Hard to be alleged when you’re caught red-handed.”
She lifted a hand and put it against his chest. Yep, the goal had definitely been within reach. She could feel the warmth of Tyler’s body even through his black t-shirt. Esme could also feel all of those fabulous muscles that belonged to him. “Was it good for you?”
He blinked.
“The kiss. Both of them,” she amended. “The kisses. Plural. Were they good for you? They must be, if you’re calling me ‘sweetheart’ already. Fine, fine, you don’t have to beg. I’ll go out with you. Be warned, I expect flowers. Chocolates. And for you to be a perfect gentleman.”
Tyler just stared back at her.
“Oh, what? You’re going to lie now? Say that the kisses didn’t rock what I expect to be the incredibly ordered world in which you live? Fine. Do it. Lie to my face.” Her voice dipped low as she rasped, “I dare you.”
His pupils seemed to fill the steel blue of his eyes. And it sure looked like that was desire staring back at her. And he wasn’t saying the kisses hadn’t rocked his world. In fact, he wasn’t saying anything. Definitely not the chatty one. But he sure was smoldering. Heat practically rolled off him, and joy of joys, his eyes had just fallen to her mouth.
She could make this easier on him. “They certainly rocked my world, too.” Her hand fisted in his shirt, and she tugged him closer.
He jerked back from her as if she’d scalded the man. How very rude.
She sniffed.
“You are playing games.” Tyler shook his head. “Lady, I am not someone you want to fuck with.”
Grayson snorted. Or choked. Or something.
Her head angled toward him. “You speak French.” Because that choking of his right then and there? Had to be related to the words she’d deliberately uttered to Tyler before. Je veux te baiser .
Grayson inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Spent a summer in Paris back when I was attending college. I speak enough to get by.”
Good to know. “My recent picture should be scrubbed from the Internet. Specifically, the picture of me, in cuffs. So very unflattering, I’m sure.” She continued to sit on the table. To appear relaxed. Appearances were everything in this world.
Believe absolutely nothing that you hear and only about half of what your eyes can see.
“Step one, get rid of the picture.” A list would probably be important for the Feds. Both for the Fed in the room and for all of those individuals who were—no doubt—watching from behind the one-way mirror on the right. Did they truly think she was clueless? Like she didn’t get how an interrogation room worked? “That terrible picture will cause irreparable damage to my glorious reputation. It needs to vanish, immediately.”
“You have a reputation for being a party girl,” Tyler stated, voice deep and dark and dead sexy. “You dance every night away, drink until dawn, and spend time with as many millionaires and dukes as you can.”
“Been digging into my life, have you?” She wagged her finger at him. “Stalker.” Oh, if you only knew.
“Do you play with them so that you can steal from them easier? Are they the ones who really get drunk while you stay dead sober and help yourself to their valuables?” Tyler asked. His body was rock hard, as if every muscle had locked down.
Did he truly expect her to confess? He’d have to work much harder in order to learn her secrets. “I’m getting bored. And sleepy. Six a.m. is my bedtime.” She needed to move things along. Mostly because the longer she stayed in one location—especially with word spreading about her being the silly Fox character—the more danger she’d be in. She didn’t enjoy danger. Adrenaline? Yes. Absolutely. She was an adrenaline junkie. But when her life was actually on the line—nope, not so much fun. “Step one, scrub the picture of me. Scrub every bit of gossip about me being the Fox. Such a silly idea.” A wave of her hand toward Grayson. “I’ve heard the FBI and CIA have incredible tech teams. Should be child’s play for them. While your tech gurus are at work, you can get that handsome face of yours in front of the press and tell them all about what a tragic mistake you made. Not like we want to have some sort of international incident.” Esme mock shuddered. “Can you imagine? Our countries are such close allies. Why create drama over nothing?”
Silence.
Actually, if she strained a bit, she could swear she heard the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Are you seriously giving orders right now?” Grayson asked her .
Tyler had gone back to just watching her. There was something about that intense stare of his. It made her feel like he was…Wait. Hold on. “Are you undressing me with your eyes?”
Tyler’s lips parted.
“ Non? Oui?” A shrug. “See, there I go again. Using French for you. You don’t have to answer. We both know what you were doing.” But, enough play. For now. She hopped off the table. Without her shoes, both men were just far too big. So Esme took a moment to put her heels back on. Except the two inches didn’t really do much. The men remained big and bold. Swamping her. But she wouldn’t show that perhaps she felt the slightest bit intimidated. Instead, she casually smoothed her hands over her dress. The slit still worked to maximum effect and showed off her legs when she shifted ever so slightly. As for the bodice…perfection.
She walked toward the mirror. Grimaced. Her hair was a tangled mess. And she looked far too pale under the abysmal lighting in the interrogation room. “Who do I have to kill in order to get some decent coffee in this place?” The question was directed at the agents behind the mirror. Taking her time, she smoothed back her hair. Esme even pinched her cheeks to try and bring back a bit of color to her face.
“I don’t think you understand the situation,” Grayson informed her.
She looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was now to her right.
Tyler stood just a few feet away. Both men looked intense and grim. Capable. Dangerous.
“In a fight,” she murmured, “who do you think would win between the two of you?”
Grayson frowned at her. He also cast a quick, nervous glance Tyler’s way.
Answer received.
“Lady…” Tyler’s growling voice. Sadly, he’d gone from calling her “sweetheart” to “lady.” Such a disappointment. “What is it that you want?”
So many things. “I believe I outlined my first few steps.” She held up her hand and began ticking items off her list even as she kept staring into the mirror. It was best to be clearly understood by everyone. My gut says Grayson’s boss is behind the glass watching. In her experience, the big players in the game always liked to hide in the shadows. Or hide behind one-way glass where they thought they could be all anonymous and protected. “I want my picture removed. I want all references to me being the Fox scrubbed. I want a statement issued saying there has been a misunderstanding, and I am a tragic, tragic victim.” She stared harder into the mirror and let her lower lip tremble.
“Are you crying?” Tyler demanded.
She wiped away a tear that had slid down her cheek. She hadn’t gotten her mother’s singing skills, but an opera singer was both incredible vocally and incredible as a performer. Esme knew all about performing. The acting talent was in her blood.
“Stop crying,” Tyler ordered roughly.
She did. “If I’m on a hit list because of your incompetence in letting people believe I am some sort of master thief, then I shall need protection.” She peered into the glass. “Protection,” Esme emphasized. “On my terms.” Esme waited a beat so that her message could be received. Then, satisfied, she nodded and turned back to the two angry men in the interrogation room.
“You are insane.” Grayson stared at her as if he thought she might need a straitjacket at any moment. “We have you dead to rights.”
“You have nothing. I have diplomatic immunity.”
“You had diamonds strapped to your thigh!” His hands flew into the air, then dropped back near his thighs.
“You’re the one who mentioned a deal.” Her high heels tapped across the floor. Tap, tap, tap . “I’ve cooperated. Haven’t even gotten any attorneys in here. Attorneys who could make your life a living hell.” A simple phone call could have arranged for a storm of lawyers. “I told you my terms. Well, most of them. And now you will either agree or I’ll walk out of here.” She paused near the door for dramatic effect.
“You walk out,” Tyler told her, “and you could be dead within the hour.”
Do not show fear. “I walk out,” she returned, “and your buddy Grayson’s boss won’t ever be able to take down…oh, what did you call it? Ah, yes, some sort of global criminal organization. He wants my cooperation to take down the bad guys. In order to get that cooperation, I have a list of demands. You just heard the start of my list.”
“There’s more?” Tyler asked.
Grayson stomped toward her. “Do tell. I want to make sure I get everything down.”
Oh, there was certainly more. She turned away from Grayson and focused on the man who mattered. The man who had taken out five bad guys without breaking a sweat. The man who was “always faithful.” The man who was her end goal. “I will need a bodyguard. Someone who will stay close to me until the case is closed. What with this unfortunate business of a price being put on my head, I need a serious badass to keep me safe. Someone who isn’t afraid when bullets fly.” She edged closer to him. Tap, tap went her heels. “Someone who doesn’t mind getting physical. Sometimes, you just have to fight dirty and hard.” She closed the last bit of distance between them. Tap, tap. “Someone who will truly take the job of protecting his charge very, very seriously.” She gazed happily up at him. “Someone just like you, Tyler.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want you.” In so many ways. For so many things. “That’s a non-negotiable point in any deal that is made. I want you. You’ll be my bodyguard. My shadow. My hero. My protector. My twenty-four, seven companion until all the danger is well and truly over. It will be you and me. Until the bitter end.” Now she did smile at him. “Doesn’t that sound amazing?”