Even though the edge of judgement gleamed in Scarlet’s gaze, he settled into professional mode, like they all did. The laptop cracked open, and the screen glowed against his glasses.
“Already done,” Grif said, slamming back the rest of his coffee. Scarlet’s fingers flew across the keypad, the sound colliding with the loud chewing from Tuck as he worked on his plate of eggs. Alanna plucked sausages from the pan and chewed them there, leaning against the counter.
“Well, while you were off fucking the enemy, we found our entry points,” she said, chewing with her mouth open because it annoyed the rest of the crew.
John strode over and placed a hand beneath her chin, pushing her mouth closed. A nuclear bomb might as well have gone off. A brief silence descended on the room, followed by Alanna’s right hook speeding toward John’s jaw like the L whipping around a bend. The man wasn’t just a smooth talker though. Her fist thudded against his palm with a smack that resounded through the room.
“Kids, stop fighting and eat your breakfast,” Grif droned, challenge sparking in his gaze. Alanna opened her mouth again, the protest guaranteed to follow. However, John swept past her to take a seat opposite Grif at the table and plunk his mug of coffee down. As much grief as the guy had given him the night before, John cared about results, a currency they both understood.
“These are older financial records,” Scarlet said, his utter lack of concern for their chaos managing to rein everyone in on the spot.
“Why would he be toting around older financial records for the company?” Tuck asked, tapping the tines of his fork against his empty plate. Now that he’d gotten food in his system, the dead-fish look in his eyes vanished, replaced by a hazy one. Tuck would never be considered a morning person.
Grif tapped his fingers on the smooth lacquer tabletop as he chewed on the information. He hadn’t missed the way Dan talked about the people in his company, or the way he’d mentioned running things the “right” way. Apparently, this new CEO wasn’t oblivious, and he didn’t seem to be joining Dick Harrington or Charles Weatherby to putt on the green while they stole from their own companies. However, with the debt he and the Outlaws owed to the Chicago mob, they weren’t in the position to be stepping away from a guaranteed score.
“He’s newer to the company, so these might be the discrepancies we’re looking for,” Grif suggested, ignoring the scalpel slice to his insides as he directed his crew. If Dan Torres was anyone else, Grif might be tempted to sway the clever bastard to work with them. Someone with a bright, mechanical mind like his would be an asset to their criminal enterprises, and he rarely met anyone with the same zeal to change corruption for the better.
However, Dan Torres was their mark, and Grif needed to get his Outlaws out of their current quagmire.
“I’ll isolate the dates in my searches,” Scarlet said, tapping the thick black frames of his glasses before his fingers clacked over the keys again. “We’ll see if we can pinpoint the exact spot before our next rendezvous.”
“Our meeting with Torres Industries is on Wednesday,” John said. “Dan’s assistant reached out to me yesterday, and we set everything up. Think you can keep it in your pants that long?”
As if on cue, his phone began to vibrate on the table. Five pairs of eyes bored into the burner.
“You know that now you’ve baited the fish, you’ve got to keep him on the reel, right? No tossing the phone in the trash like usual,” John continued. “At least until the end of the job.”
Scarlet’s quirked eyebrow delivered the same amount of “told ya so.”
Grif withheld his sigh and lifted the phone. “Yes, yes. Keep up the charade. I’ll play the distraction.”
“Poor baby,” Alanna drawled through another open mouth full of the sausage she shunted down. “Heaven forbid you have to keep in touch with one of your booty calls.”
Grif pushed himself up from the table and headed off to his room before any of them got another crack in. Even though he could’ve checked the message with the rest of the crew around, he didn’t want them peeking over his shoulder. Like he could even hope for privacy after he’d fucked the CEO of the company they’d targeted.
Tuck let out a low whistle as he left with a “go get him” that ensured Grif made the right decision. Once he slipped into the hallway, he checked the text.
Had a great time last night. Too bad you weren’t here for another round this morning.
The simple message had him sporting a semi. He’d left Dan sprawled out in bed, his ebony strands askew and his arm curled into the rumpled spot where Grif had been. Goddamn if the idea of wrapping his lips around that morning wood didn’t appeal. The second Grif stepped inside his room and shut the door, he palmed his length and gave it a couple of strokes. He leaned against the door and stared at the caulk-white ceiling.
Right, he needed to respond. This was first steps on the moon territory after his normal hit-it-and-quit-its, but they weren’t planning their job until the following week, so he had the whole span to keep Dan interested. After the frag bomb of passion that had detonated last night, it wouldn’t be difficult. He shot off a return text.
Maybe I like being a tease. You’ll just have to be patient until next time.
Grif stroked his cock another couple of times, trying to smother the memories of the sound of Dan’s moans, as sweet as Maker’s Mark, or the way those velvet lips felt around his erection. The man made an impression, even without trying.
His phone began to buzz again, this time with a call.
Unknown number.
Grif pushed up from his slouch against the door, his muscles tightening on instinct. The lazy indulgence of his thoughts shattered like a golf club through a windshield.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Grif Blackmore.” The sleazy, dulcet tones of Marco Nevarra. Joy. “I was promised a fee for the failed job, and your crew has yet to deliver.”
“We agreed on a time and date already,” Grif responded, his tone flat. Nevarra might be able to place a few calls to crush them, since he not only had dozens of crews stationed through the city but more connections than a telephone network. Still, the man respected strength. “Leaving me love notes won’t get your date pushed up further. The job might’ve botched, but we’re good for the money.”
“If you’re good for the money, then pay up now,” Nevarra said with the shaken soda tone of a grade A asshole used to getting his way.
“Careful, man,” Grif purred. “Don’t want to sound desperate for the cash.”
Nevarra responded with a growl. “Two weeks from now. If you’re not prompt on the payment, we’ll start picking off your Outlaws.”
Grif’s stomach dropped, and he gripped the phone a little tighter. Threaten him, cut him, beat him, and he’d just laugh and spit in their faces, but his Outlaws were the one thing on this earth he gave a damn about. And Nevarra wasn’t fucking around. He’d seen the bloated bodies floating in the Chicago River, the hit squads patrolling through the back alleys, and the alternating thumps of fists and final cries as Nevarra’s men beat the payment out of the poor saps who didn’t deliver.
“You’ll have your cash in hand by then,” Grif responded at last. Not bothering to wait for another threat, he ended the call.
Grif tossed his phone to thud onto the bed and let out a low curse. They couldn’t afford to screw this job up. Dan Torres was wet-dream worthy and honest in a way that Grif wished he could still remember, but two weeks from now, Torres Industries would be tanked.
Eight
Dan never dreaded Mondays until he started working for Torres Industries. Week after week he faced stiff suits, fluorescent lights, and bandying delicate words with blowhards. And after his first successful date in far too long, nothing doused an afterglow like a meeting with Phil Brennerman.
“See you at the board luncheon later,” Dan called to Phil’s fast retreating form. He didn’t budge from his desk, and once his door clicked shut, Dan slumped into the leathe
r chair. A moment’s peace was too much to ask for. The man had marched in, face blotchy red like he’d choked on a ghost pepper, after Dan had met with new companies on his own. So, today he had the task of convincing Phil and his cronies on the board to take a chance on them. With the recycled arguments and fights, he’d begun to feel like Tantalus.
Dan’s nose twitched. The man needed to lay off the aftershave—his entire office stank like a lumberjack’s cabin every time Phil Brennerman visited. He heaved a sigh and reached forward to press the line on his phone and typed the number on his keypad. If he had to face these bastards at lunch, he needed backup, pronto. The call went through, and a click sounded.
“Leo, you have a free moment?” Dan asked, staring at the ceiling and wishing each interaction with his coworkers didn’t require another maneuver on the chess board.
“Define free,” Leo’s chipper tone responded, “since I pretty much consider every day trapped in this nine to five the opposite of.”
“Is this the way you talk to all your bosses, or am I just special?” Dan tapped the phone, unable to help his grin. If he didn’t have Leo and Vanessa, he would’ve run off to become the worst monk ever after the first week.
“If your ego so badly needs to be stroked, I’ll tell you you’re special,” Leo drawled in a way that always veered toward flirty. Not like that would ever happen. When they’d met back in college, they tried going on a date at the local bowling alley, and after five frames they realized they made better friends than lovers.
Dan’s stomach curled at the thought of the last guy he’d taken back to his house. Christ, he didn’t know how he was supposed to look Greg in the eye without his face erupting in flames at their upcoming meeting. Not after the filthy things Greg had whispered in Dan’s ear, the way he’d gripped his hips, and how they’d fucked so hard he could feel it the next day.
“Danny-boy, did I lose you?” Leo said, his wry voice snapping Dan to the present.
“Come up to my office,” he responded. “I need your help with something private.”
“The words every guy wants to hear.” Suggestion dripped from Leo’s tone, and he hung up with a click.
Dan snorted and pushed up from his chair. He’d been staring at the same stack of papers until the numbers and letters had begun to blur into squiggles. No matter how many times he scanned the patterns in the financials and despite the fact none of them led anywhere illegal, he couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut. Something shadier than Chicago’s alleys was going on around here, something either his father hadn’t deigned to clue him in on or the old man hadn’t known about. Either way, he refused to ignore the rust threatening to corrode the entire engine of this company. If the top management were skimming funds or abusing the company money, hell, any infraction, Dan would stop them.
A knock sounded on the door, drawing his attention. Vanessa leaned against the frame, emanating the power and poise he wished he felt right now. No one would mistake them for anything but siblings with their thick black hair, sepia skin, and the same rounded chin as their father. However, while he’d inherited their mother’s softer eyes, his sister possessed the Machiavellian gaze of their father.
“You look like you caught someone dancing on our lola’s grave.” Vanessa strode in without being invited, her heels grazing against the thin carpet as she approached. His sister wore an impeccable Armani suit with the perfect accents of delicate rose gold earrings and a slender chain around her neck, the epitome of feminine power.
“Meeting with Phil Brennerman.” Dan made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat to follow. “You know, if I knew I was going to get stuck wrangling the old bastard, I wouldn’t have been nearly as polite to him when we were kids.”
Vanessa snorted and perched on the edge of his desk. “Right, like that wouldn’t have ended with your ass beat. Pops is as much of a stubborn dinosaur as the rest of these guys.”
Dan heaved a sigh. “I know. If I could somehow step aside to work for you instead of running this Hindenburg, you know I would, Nessa. I’m just trying to avoid getting disowned by the family.”
Vanessa swung her legs back and forth as she glanced out to the window. “Please, like I’d want to run this nasty-ass lemon party. Way more fun to watch you sweat, little brother.”
Even as she said the words, he couldn’t miss the edge of yearning she always tried to hide. Vanessa was a fighter, but practicality dominated for her, unlike him. He’d spent most of their childhood daydreaming, his mind puffing up like cumulus clouds. No matter how high his office in the Aon Center stretched, he felt further from those azure skies than ever before.
“Don’t suppose you got any information from the employees about what our board’s been up to?” Dan asked, casting her a sidelong glance.
Vanessa swung her legs back and forth again before glancing back. “Please, like they’ll talk to a Torres. We’ve got to get someone besides your IT boyfriend on our side.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Leo’s a friend, nothing more.”
Same couldn’t be said about Greg, who was dominating his thoughts far too much for a one-night stand.
“You could at least do me the favor of getting a boyfriend,” Vanessa responded with a wry grin. “Dad will be so pissed, he’ll lay off me about finding a man and pumping out grandbabies.”
“Hard pass there.” He and his father maintained a whole lot of radio silence on the subject of Dan’s preferences, because Torres Sr. followed Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell to a T. “I’ll stick to my crusade of uprooting whatever shady shit the members of this company are up to. Can’t wage a war on both fronts.”
“About that,” Vanessa said, hopping from her perch on his desk to land on the floor, heels and all. When she leaned in, the serious glint in her dark eyes had his veins buzzing. That look always meant trouble. “I’ve got some suspicions I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Knock, knock,” Leo called from the door as he strode in, not bothering to actually knock. The guy was lanky, all limbs like an oak tree in fall, yet he moved with unexpected grace. His black-rimmed glasses kept sliding down his long nose, and he quirked an eyebrow at the two of them when he came to a halt in front of Dan’s desk. “Oh look, the gang’s all here.”
“Have you heard of professional boundaries, Barnes?” Vanessa asked, her hands on her hips. “This is the head of the company, and I’m on the board.”
Leo’s thick eyebrows drew together. “Am I supposed to bow or something? I’ve been to one too many house parties with you crazy Torres kids to observe the strict norms of corporate hierarchy.”
“I asked him to come up here,” Dan said, smacking a stuffed folder onto his desk. “I need some serious ammunition before the board meeting at lunch if I have a hope or a prayer of any of the acquisitions I vetted getting approved. Chances are, Brennerman and his yes-men will shoot them all down. But I don’t trust any of the people they’d bring in.”
“You’re right not to,” Vanessa said, her tone as sharp as a cat’s claws. “For what it’s worth, I support what you’re doing, little bro. Dad might’ve been fine with rampant corruption, and knowing him, he was probably just as involved. But if we’re supposed to keep this company going, that means running the place our way.”
Dan reached out to squeeze Vanessa’s hand. The further into this mess he walked, the less he recognized the terrain. He was standing alone in the middle of a barren field, throat aching as he screamed to be heard. Nessa reaffirmed the reason he started doing this investigation in the first place. If Dad wanted to put Dan in charge, then in another year, this company wouldn’t operate under the Good Ol’ Boys rules any longer. Vanessa squeezed back, passing him an affectionate look.
“So, you brought me in because you want me to what?” Leo asked, his eyes dancing as he straightened his glasses. He knew exactly what Dan would be asking him—the man’s expertise lay in computers, beyond running their IT department.
“I could scan over these financials un
til my eyes bleed, but apart from establishing some suspicious patterns, I haven’t been able to find any fine-print proof of wrongdoing. I can’t bring my gut instinct and sneaking suspicions to the board. If I want to oust Brennerman and whoever else is in on this, I need irrefutable evidence. Any acquisitions in the past, and any future ones need screening as well.” Dan pushed up from his desk and stalked back and forth. The adrenaline pumped through his veins, swirling around all those worries.
“Right, so you want my special expertise.” Leo leaned against the desk, a wry grin on his lips. In Leo’s off time, the man spent his nights as Polonius, an unrepentant hacker, pushing the limits on all of the “challenges” that cropped up. Once he found something that twisted his brain into constrictor knots, he rarely let it go.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Dan responded, casting him a glance. Leo shook his head and stared at the ceiling, his green eyes losing focus—which meant his brain had started whirring like an exhaust fan with the new project. “You’ll be compensated.”
Leo gave him an arch look. “Don’t patronize me with all the cash you flash around, Torres. You knew the moment you brought this up I’d be interested.”
“The man keeps his office under close watch or locked at all times he isn’t in it. My father’s former ruling on privacy for the higher ups is currently kicking my ass, so if you could patch together a reason to at least get in and snoop…” Dan glanced up to Leo who nodded, an amused grin on his face.
“What can I do, Danny?” Vanessa asked. Her gaze kept flicking to the door, still open a crack, like any minute she expected someone to march on through. The same paranoia buzzed through his veins—they worked around hundreds of people and couldn’t trust a single one of them.
“Help me stall them at the board meeting today.” Dan slipped his hands into his pockets, unable to stop the jitters running through him. What they talked about would shake through the whole corporation, and guaranteed, darker days would come. “They’re going to try and stonewall these new acquisitions since they didn’t have a hand in them. If I can’t push them through, I at least need to fight to keep them in the ring.”
Midnight Heist (Outlaws Book 1) Page 6
