by A G Stevens
“Well, rest assured we treat the treasure room like it’s a stronghold,” Dawes informed him. “And on a weekend like this, with dozens of people wandering about the island, there’s more than enough justification for the extra security. We don’t need one of the relics just walking off into the jungle.”
Dawes’ tone was less than jovial, but Blaze detected a note of irony, as if he were being issued a challenge. As if he were being suspected. “We certainly don’t,” he said confidently. “In fact, that would be thoroughly counterproductive to my mission here.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Dawes said.
Blaze knew what it felt like to be sized up. It was happening to him now. It was important that he sink further into his cover to keep from drawing any more suspicion than he already had.
The music drew to a close as Nicholas Parrick walked to the center of the festivities and crossed a bride to a platform island in the center of his expansive swimming pool. “Friends,” he said, his theatricality returning, “Romans, countrymen—no, wait...that’s someone else’s opening line.” The crowd laughed, most of them half-drunk on rum beverages. ”On behalf of my incredible staff and crew, I’d like to thank you all for coming this weekend to attend the unveiling of Thunderhead. As you can see, my stunning, intelligent, extraordinarily capable wife Helene has done a superlative job of putting together an authentic island reception. She brings a sense of magic to everything she creates, doesn’t she, folks? And wait until you all see the gala. You’ll be transported.” He raised his glass to her, and she smirked back at him from across the space. “The boars are an inspired touch, darling.” The crowd chattered and applauded their praise, and Helene tipped her head at them, knowing the display was designed expressly to make Parrick appear the appreciative husband. Everything was spectacle and presentation with him. His appreciation for her was no exception. Having seen their earlier interactions, Blaze picked up easily on the tension percolating beneath the surface. “This is but a taste of things to come. The amenities of the island are available to you for the rest of the day, and through the afternoon tomorrow, leading up to the gala. Please indulge—parasail, jet ski, snorkel a little if you like. Help yourselves to whatever you desire. And if there’s something you don’t find, just let one of our lovely staff know, and they’ll be happy to provide.” The crowd applauded again as Nick walked back over the bridge and began mingling.
Dawes may have insisted that Parrick wanted to be extra-careful with so many guests in his compound, but Blaze didn’t notice any of the other guests being tailed by security. If they were plain-clothes, they were doing a phenomenal job of blending in. He couldn’t detect a single tail.
It’s just me, then, he thought. That’s beautiful.
He watched the wealthy move in their circles awhile longer, with Dawes no further than fifty yards away at all times, his sunglass-shaded eyes always trained on his mark. He found Helene suddenly standing next to him, moving lithely and stealthily through her guests and circling back around to him. “Having fun, Liam?” she asked, as if he might be in trouble for joining the party.
Blaze smiled. “I am, yes. You really know how to put on a happy hour.” He wondered for a second if his Liam Keller conversation was too bland.
“You heard the man,” Helene said wanly. “There’s magic in everything I do.” She wasn’t being sarcastic, as far as Blaze could tell.
He smiled. “Well, I can’t wait to see what the gala holds.”
“I’ll bet you can’t,” Helene said dismissively. “It’ll be fine.”
“Just fine?” Blaze asked.
Helene’s posture was feline as she circled him, smooth and sly even when she did nothing more than stand upright. Blaze took notice of her lines, her structure. Her beauty. He tried to keep Liam Keller from looking too lustful, but there was definite heat coming from her direction, and Blaze was receiving the signal. It was a strange development, as buttoned-up as he’d tried to make his cover. He wouldn’t have thought she’d consider someone so staid and undynamic to be attractive. But it certainly seemed that she did. “Oh, Nicholas likes to build things up,” she explained, practically in a purr. “A lot of blather and bluster about how wonderful everything is, even when it isn’t. My husband doesn’t understand the concept of too much hype being anti-climactic.”
Blaze’s head pivoted around the party space. “I’d say the hype is entirely justified.” He slid the ice from his glass into his mouth and chewed.
“Well,” Helene said, her brow arching, “there’s something to be said about subtlety in the introduction, in the lead-up. The importance of slowly, softly building to a...satisfying climax...can’t be overestimated.” Her lips opened, and her tongue slid around the straw of her drink as she sipped, watching him sidewise.
Blaze felt heat rising under the collar of his tropical shirt. “That is very important, yes.”
“You see a lot of expensive things in your line of work, Liam,” Helene continued, shifting the topic. “What would you estimate the net worth of everyone in this little shindig to be?”
Blaze gazed at the crowd and shrugged. “I don’t know who any of these people are,” he lied. “I couldn’t begin to imagine.”
Helene threw her hair over her shoulder as if to get his attention, which was already fully trained on her. “Isn’t that your job, Liam—to examine something and imagine its value?”
It was clear to Blaze now that he was being tested. “No,” he said, “my job is to assess the comparable value of things and offer insurance policies to cover their loss.”
“But judging a thing’s value is the goal...” Helene wouldn’t let up.
Blaze wasn’t sure where this might be leading. “I assure you, Helene, I don’t gauge financial value as some sort of party game. And I have no idea what these people even do. It would be in poor taste. I wouldn’t presume to guess their net worth any more than I would presume to guess yours and Nick’s.” He tried to sound humble about it, though it wasn’t entirely true. Even before he’d listened in on their conversations, he’d had a fair amount of intel on nearly half the crowd, background gathered from the guest list by Savant and included in the dossier he’d studied on the plane. He knew their names, their professions, their stations in life. But he wasn’t about to admit that just to please Liam Keller’s demanding client.
“So if you wouldn’t presume to guess the value of strangers you’ve never met,” Helene said, her tone sharp, “how could you possibly presume to know the value of a collection of artifacts you’ve never seen, either?”
Blaze wasn’t sure what to do here—play extra-professional, or show her a bit of what was underneath, display a little spine and assert his—and Liam’s—knowledge. “I—”
“Right,” she cut in without giving him a chance to finish his thought. “I wonder how much research you might have done on relics like Nick’s assortment that you can feel confidently and fully qualified to assess them.”
Her interest in the collection suddenly seemed much greater than Blaze had picked up on earlier. “Are you asking because you don’t trust my abilities as an assessor,” he asked, “or are you implying that I’ll be trying to cheat you and your husband in some way? I assure you Davenport-Frasier operates under the strictest of standards. Our integrity is our reputation.”
Helene folded her arms across her chest. “I’m asking because I want to make absolutely certain that the proper value of this collection is covered by your company. My husband isn’t exactly transparent with me when it comes to his dealings, as much as I’d prefer to be on the inside track. If he’d tell me a little more, I wouldn’t have to grill you like this. But here we are. And my interests are at stake here, as much as his.”
“I may be overstepping, Helene, but are you two business partners as well as husband and wife?”
Helene sneered. “I’m intimately involved with all of his dealings.”
“But are you his business partner?”
Her s
neer fell. “Not technically, no.”
Blaze sipped his drink, and Liam Keller came to the rescue with a dash of Blaze’s steel. “Then professionally, it would be an unforgivable breach for me to disclose what your husband and I discuss. I would be dismissed by Davenport-Frasier, if not by Nick himself. And personally, it would be an even bigger breach, considering I’ve known the both of you for less than three hours now. I represent a firm with a world-class reputation for discretion and adherence to privacy. We set the gold standard.”
Helene stared at him intently, wickedly even. “Well, now. I wouldn’t have expected quite so much force from someone like you, Liam.”
“Someone like me?” Blaze asked.
“Yes,” she said with a bit of fire. “You seemed too reserved, like a pushover...before you downed that liquor, at least. Now you seem sort of steely and forceful.”
Blaze was holding onto his composure by the tips of his fingers. People like Helene Parrick were his least favorite of all to deal with. He would have loved nothing more than to put her squarely in her place. But, of course, he wasn’t here for that. He had no personal stake in her attitude, or her behavior—or even how she treated her assistant—though in a different situation, all of those things would have lit his fuse in a way that couldn’t have been extinguished until he’d spoken his mind and righted things. He was here to get the mask, and that was all, even if it was getting more difficult by the minute to remain Liam Keller in her presence. “And you respect forceful more than you respect reserved—is that it?” he asked.
“Forceful gets me excited.” The straw slipped back between her lips. “Forceful turns me on.”
Blaze was doing his best to resist the bait. “I don’t know that I appreciate your forwardness.”
“That’s a shame,” she said. “My husband is forceful, but not in the way I like. I really should have specified my preference for that in our arrangement.”
“Your arrangement?” Blaze was confused.
Helene smirked. “Oh yes, Liam. Our marriage arrangement.”
Blaze was silent.
“You see, there was a negotiation, and a contract signed. And I became Helene Caron Parrick, the queen of this island. And Nicholas became the husband of one of the most ravishing women in the world.”
Arrogance was another quality that Blaze didn’t appreciate in others. Only in himself. “How romantic for you both.” He knew as soon as he’d said it that he’d gone too far. This was what Minerva and Savant had meant; this was what they were afraid of. That his insolence would end up blowing his cover, and very easily, too. He was more professional than this, he knew, but something about Helene’s clear disdain for her husband—and for Gabrielle, for that matter—spoke of a woman who was generally used to having her say, but wasn’t getting it at the moment. And she was willing to be confrontational with a stranger to make sure that things went the way she wanted them to. He found her directness to be an unwelcome challenge.
“Romance doesn’t buy you an island in the Caribbean, Liam. Or a lifestyle like this.” Her stance softened, but not much. “All that matters is making sure the value of my collection is accurately reported.”
“Your collection?” Blaze pointed out. “I thought the collection belonged to Nick.”
“Technically, yes. As part of the arrangement, most everything here belongs to us both. And I have a vested interest in knowing if the net value of my livelihood is being properly looked after, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I...” He was taken aback. “I guess I would agree, yes.”
“And would you let an assessor chosen by someone other than you just wander around and tell you what your most precious things are worth without knowing who he is first?” she asked.
Blaze shrugged. “I have no personal stake in this job. I’m simply here because your husband hired my firm, and they sent me to take care of things.”
“My husband has invited a stranger to finger his possessions,” Helene said, making direct eye contact with Blaze and exhaling heavily. “I need to be a part of that.”
Her advances were so obvious but her messages so mixed that Blaze couldn’t tell if she was trying to seduce him for information or for pleasure—or both. “You should share your concerns with your husband.”
Helene bristled, her posture turning rigid. “I expect to be in the room when you make your assessment, Liam. You need to include me in the valuation of the collection, regardless of what my husband has instructed you to do.”
Blaze knew a woman like Helene wasn’t used to having her advances refused, no matter how encoded they might have been. He leaned closer and let a little Blaze out. “Sorry, Mrs. Parrick...I’m not at liberty to discuss my fingerings with you.”
Helene’s eyes slid along Blaze’s face, sizing him up as if he were an adversary now as much as a conquest. It was likely she considered him both. “You seem like a very professional man, Liam,” she said. “It would be unfortunate if you lost your job because of your unwillingness to help a client.” She swirled her glass, pushed the straw aside, and took a swig. “And it would be even worse if you couldn’t find work in your industry again because you were unwilling to accommodate your client’s wife.”
Blaze could feel his anger rising. It was one thing to expect him to give in to an outrageous demand like the one Helene was suggesting; it was another thing entirely to use his job as leverage. Even though it was a fictitious job, the principle of the matter was the same. In his freelancing world, those sorts of challenges were met with definite force, with a resistance that let the player on the other side of the table understand just how out of line they were. But he wasn’t in his world at the moment; he was in the world of the House, and they had their own set of rules when it came to dealing with clients. More than this, he was in the world of Nicholas and Helene Parrick, and they seemed to have a whole authority structure unto themselves. A man like Derek Blaze would confront that without question.
A man like Liam Parrick would back down and assent.
Blaze sighed. “Apologies, Helene. I overstepped.”
Helene scoffed. “You certainly did.”
“I’m just here to do the best job for you and Nick that I can.” He did his damnedest to sell his contrition.
“Excellent! That’s all I wanted to know.” She smiled a cold grin. “Enjoy yourself now, Liam. Take in the sights and the sounds. Indulge. Explore paradise. And I’ll see you at the assessment.” She clinked her glass against his, though he didn’t respond. “Cheers.”
Blaze watched her walk away, slinking in a fluid, sensual motion that captured her whole essence. She was beautiful, alluring, dangerous, and seriously in charge of all things on Thane Island. And if her hints were aiming in the right direction, there was little love between her and Nicholas Parrick.
The power struggle between them was entirely too obvious now.
S E V E N
Blaze felt the aftereffects of the party as he woke in his room the next morning—nothing overwhelming or hindering...just enough of an impact to remind him that he’d taken a few moments to be Liam more than Derek to keep his hosts and their guests convinced of his cover. He knew better than to indulge too much; he was too professional for that. But the concoctions provided by the Parricks’ wandering bartenders turned out to be a bit more powerful than expected. There had been no expense spared when it came to making sure the liquor was of the highest quality, as he figured it would be, and the alcohol content at a level suitable for an island party of the rich and powerful. So he’d limited himself to three. And three was plenty.
He showered and groomed in no great hurry, leaving the water running and tapping on his cufflink communicator to give his handlers an update before heading to the assessment. “Going in soon, you two,” he said into the small gold sphere. “Is our connection solid?”
He heard an incredible yawn in his earpiece. “Roger, roger.” Zed’s voice was cloudy and tired. “It’s just me. Savant isn’t on yet.”
>
“Rough night?” Blaze asked.
“Rough morning,” Zed answered.
Blaze laughed. “It’s ten a.m.”
“Where you are, yeah,” Zed reminded him. “Time zones. Remember?”
“Ah, yes. So why are you awake?”
“You rang, so I answered. It’s my job.” Zed’s side of the communication let through a chiming clatter.
“Are you...pouring cereal?” Blaze asked.
“I certainly am,” Zed answered, crunching a few pieces as he spoke. “Can I presume you had an interesting evening playing on the beach with the Parricks and their beautiful friends?”
“Interesting doesn’t begin to describe it,” Blaze confirmed.
“Well, now.” Zed suddenly sounded more awake. “Spill, buddy. I could use a good beach-party-with-the-rich story.”
Blaze wiped the fog off his mirror, sprayed out shaving cream, and dipped his razor in the sink. “Let’s say that Nicholas Parrick is big on grandiose displays.”
Zed’s pouring milk joined the conversation. “Already known.”
“Not just the collection,” Blaze clarified, “which does boast some disturbing Hollywood-level special effects...but the party, too. It was a full-on luau.”
“That’s Polynesia. You’re in the Caribbean.”
Blaze realized how strange it sounded. “It did cause a bit of confusion, yes—or ‘fusion’ as the gourmets called it.”
Zed chuckled. “Love the word play.”
“And when it comes to her personal assistant, Helene Parrick is...” Blaze hesitated, dragging the razor up his throat in a clean stroke. “...sort of a monster.”
“A lithe, beautiful, stunningly attractive monster,” Zed corrected him, and Blaze didn’t argue. “That doesn’t sound wrong. She is one of the wealthiest women in the world.”
“Yes...” Blaze didn’t seem convinced.
Zed picked up on his doubt. “And that sounds like a question.”
