Knave (Masters of Manhattan #1)

by Jane Henry

  “Just like you loved when I ate you out.”

  “Anson! Jesus.” My cheeks flushed even hotter than they already were.

  “Hey, two can play at this game.” His playful tone sobered then. “Come on out when you’re dressed. We need to work out a plan for what our next move us. We’re meeting in half an hour. Got it?”

  “Yep,” I said, and waited until the door closed behind him before I came out of the shower. We needed to plan our next strategy, to put the pieces of the puzzle together. As far as me… him… us? Yeah, I’d sort that shit out later.

  Nine

  “Robby Fletcher,” Walker said, pulling up a picture on the screen in his lair just as Sabrina and I entered the room. The man on the screen was blond and ruddy-cheeked, with a wide chest and jacked biceps that made him appear more like a professional rugby player than a Manhattan suit. “Investment manager. Probable client of Stuart Fowler and owner of Silver, the bar where Anson’s mom was working when she died. Ex-friendly acquaintance of Max Pederson, and in related news, current side-piece of Emma Pederson.”

  I towed Sabrina to the empty spot on the sectional, and we took what had apparently become our assigned seats. The others were already sitting in the same seats they’d taken yesterday, too, but that was where the similarities to yesterday’s debrief ended. This morning, we were all tense as hell. I could see it in the grip of Caelan’s fingers as he held his ankle crossed over one knee, in Ethan’s narrowed gaze as he looked at the screen, even in Walker’s business-like demeanor as he called up pictures on his tablet. Yesterday, we’d potentially had a break in our investigation. Today, we knew we had one, and now all we needed was a plan.

  Though I hated to admit it, there had been times over the last few months, as we’d started our investigations and gone through the motions of setting up our ‘business,’ when I’d wondered if we’d ever get the break we needed. Now that we were here, the need to end this was a fire in my veins, a thrum in my blood, and I couldn’t wait to act. But I’d be lying if I said that fire wasn’t tempered by a cold dose of fear. Fear that had everything to do with the woman leaning trustingly against my side.

  Sabrina’s shoulders were tight, and I knew her tension wasn’t just from excitement or anticipation; she was worried, and I didn’t blame her. In just a short time, her father had been killed, she’d been injured in a car accident, and then she’d been forced to move in with a bunch of strangers and confront a man she’d known since childhood. I couldn’t help but wonder, too, if she was worrying about what the future would hold for us, once we’d figured out who was behind her father’s death and that connection between us was severed.

  As much as I needed to know the people behind my mom’s death, to bring them to justice, I was almost tempted to pick Sabrina up and throw her over my shoulder. To cart her back to my room and lock us both inside.

  “Why does he look familiar?” Ethan asked. He was glaring at the man on the screen like the guy had personally offended him, and in a way I guess he had. “And don’t tell me it’s because I saw his ass on camera as he was fucking Emma Pederson. I mean his face. I’ve never met the guy before, but I’d swear I recognize him.”

  “Probably because you actually read the society section of the newspaper just like I do?” Xavier suggested. His voice was bored, but I’d worked with him long enough to know when he was lying, and I could tell his boredom actually covered a deep well of anger. X wanted revenge for his sister’s death as badly as I needed to avenge my mom. “I don’t think a day passes when that man isn’t at some social event or another.”

  “So, he’s a power player,” Caelan surmised, frowning at the screen.

  “On the contrary.” Xavier ran a hand over the blond stubble on his chin. “He’s more like a bad penny. He’s that guy who’s never invited but somehow always shows up.”

  “To be fair, his bank account could buy him into most places.” Walker hit a button, and a list of charities followed by dollar amounts—dollar amounts so large they made even my jaded eyes blink twice in case I was reading them wrong—appeared on screen. “This is just in the last year, hermanos. Dude has no problem buying up the goodwill.”

  Caelan whistled through his teeth. “Impressive.”

  Xavier snorted. “It would be impressive, if he gave because he really cared about those causes. He’s trying to buy his way into society.”

  “Trying?” I demanded. “He’s spent almost twenty million, X. How much does it take for trying to become doing?”

  Xavier shrugged. “It’s not about a dollar amount. That’s the thing he doesn’t get. People who have unlimited resources aren’t impressed by him flinging around money, even that much money.” He sat forward on the sofa and appraised me with a look. “Anson, how much money do you have in the bank?”

  “Pretty sure you already have a rough idea,” I told him. Since we’d divided up Eugenia Carmichael’s legacy five ways, he couldn’t help but know. “Enough that I never have to work again. Ever.”

  He nodded, expecting nothing less, but Sabrina turned her head to look at me with wide eyes, like somehow despite the penthouse and the crazy-expensive equipment, she hadn’t realized just how loaded we were.

  “Robby Fletcher’s the same, for all intents and purposes,” Xavier continued. “He started from practically nothing and made a killing on real estate in the past few years. So, what gets a man out of bed when he doesn’t have a family, doesn’t have a career he’s passionate about, and doesn’t have to worry about where his next meal’s coming from?”

  I blinked. Honest to God, I hadn’t thought about this for myself, let alone Robby Fletcher. Until six months ago, I would have said it was the thrill of the steal—the idea of putting something over on a rich asshole. Now? Well, now it was a need for justice that drove me. But for the first time, it occurred to me that there would come a time when we completed our mission and justice was served. And what would I live for then?

  I held Sabrina more tightly to my side, even as she cocked her head in thought.

  “He wants whatever he doesn’t have,” Sabrina told Xavier. “Something money can’t buy.”

  Xavier turned his gaze to her and nodded slowly, his mouth tipped up at the corners. “Exactly,” he said softly. “That’s it exactly.” He looked up at me, and then at the others. “And for Robby Fletcher, that’s respect. Friends. Acceptance. Power, in the social arena. That’s what drives him.”

  Ethan had been staring at Xavier, and it was no surprise that he was the one who put the profile together first. “So, Fletcher’s involvement in this—owning a low-end bar like Silver, orchestrating or carrying out Anson’s mom’s murder if she found out something about him or his associates, all his dealings with Fowler—none of that was done for the money. He was doing it for power.” He looked around at all of us in turn. “He couldn’t have been working alone.”

  “I agree with that,” Xavier said, lifting his chin slightly. “From what I know of the man, he was trying to curry favor with someone. That’s his modus operandi. And, not to put too fine a point on it, he’s not exactly a criminal mastermind.”

  “Not like you,” I said wryly.

  X’s lips twitched in acknowledgement. “It makes sense that Fletcher is working for someone more powerful. He’s a little bit desperate to curry favor, and I can say for certain that he wasn’t working with anyone in my set. He earned his money making deals that bankrupted some highly respected members of Manhattan society.” Xavier shrugged. “To an extent, that’s the name of the game, but when an unknown comes in and makes waves, we need to circle the wagons, you understand. When Fletcher tried to use his ill-gotten gains to buy into any of the more exclusive co-ops in the city, he was voted down. Unanimously.”

  “They can do that?” Sabrina demanded, outraged. Ethan raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I don’t like the guy—he’s probably a murderer and he’s for sure having an affair with a married woman, but that’s discriminatio
n.”

  “Nope,” Xavier said, smiling his broad, toothpaste-ad smile at her. “Uncouth upstarts aren’t a protected class. And the co-op boards answer to no one. But don’t feel too bad for him. He took his millions out of the city and now he has a fucking castle in Connecticut.”

  “Oh, shit,” Ethan said. “That’s where I know him from!” He looked surprised—an expression I wasn’t used to seeing on his face—and ran a hand through his red hair. “He’s the one who throws the parties.”

  “Yeah.” Xavier narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Uh… I’ve heard of them,” Ethan said, waving a hand nonchalantly, though his knee was bouncing up and down. “In passing.”

  Xavier looked like he didn’t quite believe that, but then explained for the rest of us. “Practically every Friday night, he holds these lavish fêtes. Invites every power player in the tri-state area, but hardly anyone I know goes.”

  “Until this week,” I said slowly, a plan taking form in my mind. “I think tomorrow night, you’re going to develop a definite fondness for Connecticut and uncouth upstarts.”

  “Really? To what end?” Xavier asked. He looked intrigued, but didn’t argue, which was novel.

  “If the uppah-uppah classes are treating him like a pariah…” I said in my snottiest socialite accent, “who’s he working with? Hell, who’s he working for? Who else commands power in this city?”

  The uneasy looks we all exchanged spoke volumes. None of us in this room were objectively good men—we’d all lied, cheated, and stolen in pursuit of our goals. But there were far worse monsters out there.

  “The mob? But there’s never been an indication that any of the main families were involved in our loved ones’ deaths,” Walker reminded us. “Hell, that was the first place we looked. All of them are too busy fighting amongst themselves.”

  “The main families,” Caelan repeated. He stared at a spot on the ceiling somewhere above my head, frowning like he was lost in thought. “But what if someone else is trying to make a play?” His intelligent blue eyes met mine. “What if there’s a family out there that’s like Fletcher—an upstart with deep pockets looking to make a name for themselves? If they’ve stayed off the radar, pulling strings behind the scenes…”

  “No one would ever tie their crimes together until it was too late,” Sabrina said wonderingly. “Who would connect my father to Anson’s mother, or… or any of the other people you lost?” Her hand swept the room, indicating all of the other Masters, and she looked at me like she was hoping I’d tell her she was wrong.

  But I couldn’t.

  “We need to find out who Robby’s associates are,” I said instead, glancing at Xavier. “Who he hangs out with after-hours.”

  He looked pained for a second, then nodded reluctantly. “You all know what traffic to Connecticut is like on a Friday right? This is gonna be a bitch.”

  I nodded and looked down at Sabrina, wincing slightly as I thought of what the other part of my plan would entail. “Yeah, you don’t know the half of it,” I said, and then I explained.

  “Bug check,” I said under my breath, after I’d placed the tiny listening device under the lip of the enormous oak table in Robby Fletcher’s grand dining room.

  “Got it,” Walker confirmed in my ear. “Device is working. Two more to go?”

  I hummed a noise of confirmation as I carried my tray of top-shelf champagne from the dining room into the larger of the two living areas in Fletcher’s mansion, where guests were already beginning to mingle.

  The place was, indeed, a castle, complete with a stone facade, an actual turret, and a picture gallery—the whole nine yards. The millions Robby Fletcher hadn’t been able to spend in Manhattan had gotten him three full stories here in Connecticut, plus a full basement I hadn’t managed to scope out yet, and so far, I’d managed to place bugs in nearly every room on the ground floor, including the bathroom, which made me chuckle. Then again, I wasn’t the one who had to monitor the feeds from the bugs I’d planted. That duty fell to Walker, Caelan, and Ethan, who were currently out in Caelan’s van in the guest parking area, working our party behind the scenes.

  “I’m heading back to the kitchen for a refill,” I muttered, as a couple of guests took the last remaining drinks from my tray.

  “If you’re coming to check on me, don’t bother.” Sabrina sounded frazzled over the comms, which was understandable, given that she was attempting to cater a party for over a hundred people with what she’d informed us more than once was a criminal lack of preparation. “I’ve got things under control. No thanks to you guys.”

  I pressed my lips together as I wound my way through the room, collecting empty glasses. It would be a massive stretch to say that Sabrina had been happy about the plan I’d devised two days ago—a plan that involved us infiltrating Robby Fletcher’s weekly party as a last-minute catering substitution after his usual catering company had received a mysterious bribe that was more than enough to make them turn down the job. Still, Sabrina had been game enough. After a minute of gaping at me, eyes wide and those pretty pink lips hanging open, she’d firmed her jaw, smiled grimly, and gotten down to business. As if I didn’t already have enough reason to love her.

  I stopped still, my hand frozen on a glass I’d been picking up.

  Not love, I told myself. Not love-love. Admiration, more like. I appreciated her as a partner. I’d trust her to have my back. I respected her quick mind. And I wanted her in my bed. But we hadn’t known each other long enough for there to be any question of actual love… Right?

  From across the room, Xavier caught my panicked gaze and raised one superior eyebrow. Dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Caelan’s tricked-out van, with his hair perfectly styled and his face arranged in that sneer of perpetual boredom that I always associated with the filthy rich, he was busy mingling with the other guests. He was also filling a far-more-important secondary purpose, courtesy of the unobtrusive, expensive looking tie tack he wore—a piece of electronics Walker had developed in a rush yesterday that contained an embedded camera to record pictures of all the partygoers. The pictures were being transmitted to the van, where Walker was running facial recognition software and putting together a comprehensive picture of Fletcher’s associates.

  I returned X’s look with a subtle nod. I was fine. Fine. If there’d ever been a time when I needed to compartmentalize my emotions until the job was done, this was it. Plenty of time to freak out over Sabrina later.

  I smiled and nodded politely to the guests as I passed, no trace of Saint in my deferential attitude. If I happened to be cataloging every one of them and knew down to the dollar how much bling each of them was wearing, it was purely force of habit.

  I threaded my way back into the kitchen, where Sabrina was directing three of Fletcher’s regular employees who were also acting as waitstaff and sous chefs. Her coppery hair was pulled back in a braid and capped with a snowy white hat, and her cheeks were slightly flushed, but she was every inch the competent businessperson in her element.

  Was it weird that it made me hard to see her this way?

  “Poppy, those canapés are going to burn,” she told a brunette calmly. “And Dexter, those mushrooms are ready. Take them out, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Julian, I think that’s probably enough parsley. Those can go out too.”

  Julian nodded, grabbed another tray of hors d’oeuvres, and left the kitchen with a slight nod at me.

  “Miss Fowler,” I asked innocently. “Where’s the rest of the champagne?”

  “In the storage room,” she told me, without looking up from whatever she was mixing in a large silver bowl.

  “I think it’s all gone.”

  She looked up then, giving me a small scowl. “That’s not possible. We have a whole other case.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you could help me find it?” I asked. I glanced at Poppy, making sure she was otherwise occupied, then gave Sabrina a long wink. />
  “Seriously, tell me you’re not planning to get it on in the storeroom right now,” Walker sighed in my ear.

  “Focus, Anson,” Ethan reproved. “Remember the priority.”

  But I was very clear on what my priority was at the moment, and it was checking in with Sabrina to make sure she was doing okay.

  Sabrina rolled her eyes and I could practically hear her sigh from across the room, but she grabbed a kitchen towel. “Once you’ve plated those, you can go ahead and serve them,” she directed Poppy. “Maybe start at the rear of the house, since Julian and Dex are starting at the front.”

  “Yes, chef,” Poppy replied instantly.

  Sabrina tossed her towel on the counter and led me to the storeroom near the rear entryway. I couldn’t resist tugging on her braid, and I grinned when she shot me a narrow-eyed look over her shoulder.

  Once we got into the room, I closed the door behind me and grabbed her around the waist, drawing her back against my chest. For just a moment, I let myself breathe in the scent of her, taking just one minute to let the hum of unease at the base of my neck settle.

  I couldn’t say I was excited about this plan, even if I’d been the one to dream it up. If I could have accomplished this in a way that allowed Sabrina to be comfortably ensconced back at the penthouse, cuddled up in my bed, I’d have done it.

  I lifted my hands to her shoulders and kneaded slightly at the knots of tension there. Sabrina let out a low groan, and Caelan’s baritone sigh sounded over the comms. “I read an article about danger heightening arousal…”

  Xavier coughed discreetly. “You’re not,” he hissed. “Daly, tell me you’re not.”

  “Jesus. Of course I’m not,” I whispered, affronted, at the same time Sabrina snorted.

  “I mean, I do enjoy the danger,” she said, “but I have food to cook here, boys.”

  Not that I wasn’t sorely tempted. Even concealed in her chef’s uniform, something about the woman called to me, a siren song that resounded in every cell of my body. But I would not allow myself to be distracted. Not when it could put her in more danger.