I still couldn’t believe his mother had cut her heart out in front of him. I meant that, too—I really wasn’t certain I believed that story. It sounded like something from an Edgar Allen Poe poem, not reality. But I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on the Brotherhood. Agent Sanchez’s claim that they’d all been trained as spies and mercenaries as children was more than a little bit farfetched, and if she’d truly been demoted for pulling a gun on a little girl, I didn’t want anything to do with her.
Honestly, this entire outing with Rex had been pretty nice—much better than anything I’d ever done with Luke, who spent the entire night talking about himself whenever we went out together. Not that we’d be going out again anytime in the near future. I hadn’t told Rex yet, but I’d given Luke the boot when he’d tried to insist I make up for his broken hand by giving him a blow job in Central Park right in front of all the single moms filming craft vlogs and tourists taking pictures of pigeons on the trash cans.
Other than the obscene amount of cologne he was wearing, Rex looked absolutely amazing tonight, and now that I wasn’t tied to Luke, I didn’t feel nearly as guilty when my lady parts tingled in reaction. His brown hair was slicked back with pomade and he was wearing a purple, plaid bow tie with a light blue dress shirt and navy vest, a casual yet elegant look that was perfect for the sort of restaurant he’d brought me to.
When we’d first arrived, my mind had swung back and forth over whether or not I should simply come right out and state my worries about Joey Schumer or try to be a little more… covert… about my accusations. In the end, I’d spat it out, no surprise considering that keeping my mouth shut was not my greatest talent.
Rex had seemed honestly shocked by the news that his former assistant was long dead, and he’d certainly found the suggestion that his friends had super secret underground jobs to be absurd. Which they were. Sure, some of them were criminals, but other than Sonny, none of them had any sort of connections to organized crime, nor had I seen any evidence that they were anything other than what they seemed—much less that they were all trained for secret spy-soldier work or whatever Shady claimed.
The idea of Jones, whose main love in life was apparently coaching Little League, truly being a hitman seemed particularly absurd. Although he had hit Luke pretty hard. But coaches threw good punches, right?
“You should eat it,” I said to Rex, nodding at his salad. “It’s really good.”
He set down his fork, still looking mildly ill. “I think I’ll wait for dessert. I’m not really all that hungry tonight.”
I gasped. “You didn’t have dinner with Bambi before me, did you?”
Rex groaned. “If I ever get drunk enough to see Bambi again, please call one of those programs that kidnap you off the street and force you into their prison-esque rehabs.”
“So why were you late?” I asked, taking a sip of what was definitely my third or fourth glass of sparkling wine.
“I was hiding Joey Schumer’s body, obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes as I giggled, cheeks going red. “No, I had to meet with General Wong from the Department of Defense, actually,” he said.
“The one who was married to Mrs. Cho?” I questioned, and Rex nodded.
“Yeah, we’re golf buddies, actually. Marshall Wong and I, not Mrs. Cho and I,” he added hurriedly. “I don’t even want to know how she treats a caddy.”
“I assumed,” I said dryly, and he chuckled at my tone. “Do you do a lot of work with the DOD?” It was kind of strange that a man who’d been in prison multiple times and was well known as a criminal had contracts with the government, but he was a billionaire, and billionaires got all sorts of contracts. Being rich was helpful like that.
Rex shrugged. “Some. Most of it is classified, so I can’t go into detail. But we don’t usually have so many meetings. With all the security breaches we’ve been having, we’re working to make sure Tyche is at her best.”
I stiffened at the mention of the breaches, forcing myself not to shift nervously. They couldn’t be my fault. The Undercover Vibrator hadn’t been around long enough to cause these problems. Not to mention I hadn’t even activated it. “Tyche?” I said, forcing myself to sound casual as I shoved more maggotslaw into my mouth.
“That’s the name of our security system. It was designed by Valentine. If you want the best security, pay the worst criminals to design it, that’s my motto, and Val knows how to be a very bad boy.”
“So it’s really special?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Tyche’s a form of artificial intelligence,” Rex said. “As long as she’s active, no one can access anything without our awareness. She tracks individuals, learns their behaviors, and informs us instantly if those behaviors change.” He sighed. “The downside being that if Tommy the Accountant has an affair with Lisa the Lab Tech, Tyche is going to notice and call them out on it. Contrary to popular belief, I am not quite that interested in the social lives of my employees.”
So that was what the Undercover Vibrator had been designed for. Shutting down Tyche long enough to get into the lab without the system noticing that someone strange was there.
“How have there been so many security breaches if Tyche’s so good?” I asked, wondering if this involved Wesley somehow or if it was completely unrelated. It made me very nervous, the idea that the federal government was so very interested in things happening in the building I was supposed to steal from. FBI agents undercover in Rex’s office, the Department of Defense having meetings about building security… That was a lot of interest for a reason I didn’t understand.
Rex shrugged. “I wish that I knew. Individually, they could all be considered minor. No one has gotten past ground floor, which means that the hacker has still been unable to breach Tyche’s system at anything but the lowest level. However, all together… The fact that this hacker has managed to punch a hole in our lowest security level dozens of times, over and over again, even after we’ve updated the system, shows that he knows what he’s doing. These are test runs, and eventually, he will crack it.”
I frowned, thinking. “I was able to go up for my interview with no problem. Why can’t someone just walk right up?”
“Tyche granted you access,” Rex replied, giving me a smile.
“Why?” I asked, confused, and he chuckled.
“Because when you spoke to Val, he stated that you could use the stairs to access Level 32. You would have found that the elevators were locked down and all the other doors in the stairwell were locked.”
I blinked, thinking, then my mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Wait, are you saying that I could have taken the elevators if Val had let me? They weren’t broken?!”
Rex winced at the glare I gave him. “No, they weren’t broken. And the union was not on strike.”
“Why in the world didn’t Valentine let me take the elevators?” I demanded, eyes narrowing. “I nearly died in that stairwell!” I scowled. “It was to give him time to look through my phone, wasn’t it?”
Rex grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, that was probably why.”
I sat back with a dramatic sigh, and Rex laughed.
“Could I ask you one question?” he said, and I rolled my eyes.
“Is it cliche to point out that you just did?”
Rex dropped his head, groaning. “It’s like being in twelfth grade again.”
I snickered. “Go ahead.”
Rex looked at me, his eyes running up and down my body in a way that made me tingle in places where it was most definitely not polite to tingle in public. But, oh, how I didn’t want it to stop. As his tongue flicked across his lips, I felt my nipples tighten in my bra, and I took a deep breath, forcing down the very naughty thoughts popping up about what that sensual mouth could do if it were locked on my tingling places, suckling at my body…
“If things between us hadn’t started so…”
“Despicably?” I suggested. “Terribly? Wretchedly?”
Rex sort of caved in on h
imself, pain washing over his face in a way that made me want to take it back and pull him into my arms, wrapping his giant body in mine.
“Yeah, that,” he said softly. “If we hadn’t started out like that, do you think that you’d like me?”
I frowned. Could he truly have picked a more obvious question?
“I get that men love to have their egos stroked, almost as much as other places, but I don’t think that really needs an answer. It’s the definition of obvious.”
The man sagged down, letting out a disappointed sigh. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s what I told Conner. But he insisted that you like me. That it was only what happened with Franklin keeping us from trying this,” he gestured vaguely toward the table and the meal sitting on it, “for real.”
I stared at him for a long moment, then let out a laugh. “I don’t know what brush-off in your past was bad enough to make you think there’s actually a possibility of a woman rejecting a man like you, but that chick was obviously playing for the team that does Joan Jett karaoke and wears work boots with Levi’s to the club on Friday nights.”
“Wait, when did you meet my sister?” Rex questioned, brow furrowing in confusion. “I didn’t realize you knew Angie.”
My eyes widened, and I sucked in a sharp breath, cheeks going red. “What? No! I’m so sorry, I—”
“I’m kidding,” Rex cut in dryly, looking amused at my absolute horror. “I don’t have a sister, Mason.”
I stared at him for a long moment before I let out a loud laugh, shaking my head. “You are a really good liar, has anyone ever told you that?”
Rex’s face burst into a grin. “Yes, actually. That gardener who tended my family’s estate taught me. He always said I was talented.”
“And funny,” I added. “Which is exactly what I mean. You’re hot, you’re nice, and you have a great sense of humor. Not to mention that you’re super rich and a Manhattan celebrity. As much as I hate to admit it, I would probably be crazy for you if it weren’t for Franklin.” My voice cracked at his name, and I clutched the edge of the table, the mere thought of my brother making me want to break down. Or possibly claw Rex’s eyes out, just to make myself feel better.
Rex looked down, studying his wine glass. “From what I’ve seen, Franklin was a good man. He didn’t deserve to be sentenced to death.”
“No, he didn’t,” I said hoarsely. “He deserved to live a long, happy life.”
Rex nodded slowly. “For what it’s worth, I agree that he deserved to live a long, happy life… And I agree with you that not everyone does.”
I looked at him sharply. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Rex met my eyes, dark chocolate locking with bright blue, holding me captive with their strange mix of pain and acceptance. “You wish I was dead.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he waved the words away, silencing me.
“It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me. You’ve wished I was dead for years. I understand. I didn’t kill Joey Schumer myself, but considering the sick videos Valentine found on his computer… I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be happy that the pervert’s genitals were slashed off. Especially those young girls.”
My eyes widened as it clicked what he was saying, and I shuddered, memories of Strawberry Shortcake coffee mugs and Val’s words dancing through my mind: His password is ‘littlegirl’.
“But please, Mason, whatever you’re planning… be careful.” He stood up, gathering his things and shrugging into his jacket. “You’ve suffered enough, and I like you. I like you a lot. I know you have a boyfriend, but…” His voice cracked. “I have a bad feeling, like you’re going to get hurt in this mess, and I won’t be able to stop it. So, please. Don’t choose revenge over your own safety. The only thing that could make my world any worse is losing you.”
I gasped as he bent down without warning, pressing his lips against mine. My brain screamed for me to pull away, just like it had that first day at the office, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move at all. I was locked to him, his lips moist and plump against mine, his tongue caressing them in a way that left me desperate to moan, to press my body against his, rubbing him with the parts of me that begged to feel him…
And then it was over. Rex was gone, headed into the night, and I was alone with my twelve dollar water glass and a piece of untouched cheesecake.
I took in a long, slow breath, gently pressing my fingers to my lips, my heart pounding in my chest as his words echoed through my mind:
The only thing that could make my world any worse is losing you.
I shook my head rapidly, knowing I had no chance of clearing it, of coming to any understanding of the realm of confusion that was Rex Bennett. He seemed to understand so much about me, while I got so little about him beyond the fact that he wasn’t a hitman and the thought of maggots made him want to throw up.
I mean, how to comprehend the fact that Rex truly believed himself deserving of being in the ground, the same way that perverted pedophile Joey Schumer deserved to have his junk hacked up like firewood?
I froze at that thought, my hands gripping the purse I’d just grabbed from the floor so tightly that one of my fingernails cracked.
His junk. Rex had talked about Schumer’s junk, but I’d never told him about that. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to speak about it out loud. So how could he possibly have known?
How could Rex have known, unless he was the one who removed it?
- rex -
“This is a really poor idea,” Sonny informed me in a casual tone. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, glaring over at the man who was supposed to be my best friend and support me always and forever.
“This is a great idea,” I snapped, adjusting my ski mask for better visibility as I eyed Mason’s apartment building. It was a really shitty building, at least in my eyes, but I might be a little biased, being a billionaire and all. She didn't even have a doorman.
“It’s a wonderful idea. We want to know who’s using Mason? What better place to get info than her home base? You’re just blinded by the stick up your ass which has officially grown so large it’s now popping out the top of your head.”
“No,” Greta said cheerfully from the backseat. “Boss is totally right. This is a terrible idea.”
“You’re fourteen,” I snapped. “And have zero training in recon. What do you know?”
“That stalking’s illegal and that squeamish, softhearted pussy-bitches like you don’t do well in Attica? Something about lots of tears over how lonely you were and how ugly your cell looked without any fresh flowers?”
Sonny didn’t even bother to hold back his laughter as he said, “Watch your mouth, Greta.”
My goddaughter snorted, tugging at the edge of her sequined balaclava. “Do I really have to wear this?” she whined. “It’s going to make me break out.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s what acne cream is for.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into doing this,” Sonny muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the apartments. “This is not how you perform good surveillance, which you damn well know.”
“I can’t believe you brought your teenaged daughter,” I snapped back, and he shrugged.
“She successfully stole forty-three thousand dollars from a bank by pretending to be Central Headquarters doing evaluations on vault security. I think she can handle sitting outside a Brooklyn apartment building.” He shrugged again, his favorite movement. “Besides, I brought my police scanner.”
“He thinks taking me to commit crimes is better than leaving me at home where I might bring boys home and kiss them,” Greta said helpfully.
“Hell yes, it is,” I told her. “Rob banks all you want, but stay away from boys.”
“You realize Lotus is going to kill you when he finds out you have us sitting in a Ford Pinto in front of Mason’s place dressed like we’re about to rob a liquor store,” Sonny informed me, referring to the Family recruiter who trai
ned us both. It was true. He would kill me. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance we could skip this part and go actually rob a liquor store?”
“Where did you even get this car, Uncle T-Rex?” Greta asked, and I shrugged.
“Craigslist. I figured that the Hummer and the Maserati would stand out.”
“Because we’re so stealth right now,” Sonny said dryly. “Who would notice two giant men in ski masks sitting in a rusty car for hours in front of their home, much less worry about it?”
“I’d just take a gun, walk outside, and tell them to get lost,” Greta said with a shrug. “Then if they tried to come after me, I’d shoot them in the knee caps.”
“That’s my girl,” Sonny murmured.
“Incapacitate first, interrogate later,” I said with a nod.
“Fudge this, according to her texts, Mason and her little friend were supposed to leave for the bar two hours ago,” Sonny said. “I’m tired of waiting. We could be here all night. We need to get into that apartment.”
“We could pull the fire alarm,” Greta suggested.
“And how many minutes does that give us?” Sonny said in his teacher voice.
Greta frowned. “The fire department is approximately three and a half miles away. Their response time averages eight minutes. With traffic, I’d say we’d have nine to twelve minutes.” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s not enough, is it?”
“Nope,” I replied. “But there is someone here that Mason hasn’t met yet…”
“You up for it?” Sonny said, and Greta smirked.
“What’s my cut?”
Sonny eyes twinkled wickedly. “I promise not to take Conner to your next basketball game dressed in drag, claiming ‘she’s’ your new transgender stepmom.”
Greta just laughed. “Considering you already did that to punish me for the bank job, it’s not a great reward, but I’ll do it as a favor to Uncle T-Rex.”
Heart Thief (Black Market Billionaire Book 1) Page 15
