My eyes were still closed but I heard him place his coffee mug in the sink and walk down the hallway to the bathroom.
I must’ve fallen asleep again because I didn’t see or talk to Nate the rest of the morning. I woke up again around eleven to a silent apartment. All I could hear was the rage-filled voice in my head.
How could I let this happen?
Could I have prevented a genius-level hacker from finding out my identity? Maybe. Maybe not. But there was one person who needed to know what was going on.
I rummaged through my suitcase and found my phone in the front pocket.
“Hello, Betty,” Audrey said in her usual holier-than-thou voice. “I assume you’re back in New York now.”
“Have you heard anything from Rhys?” I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
“No. Should I have?”
“I just thought you might be interested to know that he knows my real name, where I live, who my parents are. Everything.”
And the erotica I read!
“And he’s threatened to hand me over to the FBI on a silver platter.”
Audrey was silent for a moment. “In exchange for what?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Ah.”
I waited for her to continue. She didn’t. “So, that’s it then?”
“Well,” she said, “obviously I won’t be hiring him again.”
“You said he was legit!”
“Legit?”
“Trustworthy.”
“He seemed to be.”
“You mean there’s nothing we can even do about it?”
“Well, you know that old saying: No honor amongst thieves.”
My eyes narrowed. Of course she’d say something like that. It’s not like that phrase hadn’t been floating around my brain since I received that stupid email.
“Has this ever happened before?” I said through a clenched jaw.
“Oh, most certainly.”
I rolled my eyes. A little warning would have been nice.
“Do we have any contact info for this guy?” I stared at the ceiling. “I don’t even know his last name. But whatever he told you, I’m sure it’s fake. I don’t even know if he’s actually Scottish! He used, like, five different accents—”
“I’m sorry, Betty, I can’t give you his contact information.”
“Why not?”
“That’s confidential.”
“Bullshit.” I paced the living room. “If you’re not going to hire him again, what’s the difference if you give out his information or not?”
“I have a reputation to uphold.” I could tell from her tone she was getting annoyed with me, as usual. “This is a very tight-knit field. He’d tell someone I gave out his information and then you’d be my only … employee.”
I rolled my eyes again. I’m not your employee, lady. I’m a contract burglar. It’s not hard to say.
“By the sounds of it, you likely don’t want to trifle with this man. If he really could do as much damage as you say, then why tempt him?”
Because he’s blackmailing me, that’s why!
I dropped onto the sofa again. “Fine. I’m out half a mill but whatever!”
“There’s a good girl.”
I will not throw my phone at the wall. I will not throw my phone at the wall.
“Anything coming down the pipeline I should know about?”
“Probably not until later this month.” She paused. “Betty, let me call Rhys. Maybe he’ll change his mind about this threat business once he knows I won’t hire him again.”
I felt better for about half a second. It was the most considerate thing Audrey had ever said to me—but she was likely more concerned about losing the services of a hardcore hacker like Rhys than seeing me lose out on some cash.
We hung up and I went to have a shower. My skin was saturated with the smells of airports and airline food. My hair was matted and tangled from wearing a crappy wig during my flight from London to New York.
When I got out of the shower, there was an email notification on my phone.
To: bettybruce
From: audreyfox
Subject: situation
He handed in his notice. Turns out he’s been freelancing for months. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Inconvenience? She thinks this is an inconvenience? Are you kidding me? It’s half a million dollars, not a traffic detour!
* * *
I strolled into a tiny pawnshop in Brooklyn, located between a dry cleaners and a diner, and nodded at the man behind the counter. Jewelry, collectables, dishes, books and watches filled the shelves and display cases lined the walls. An antique chest sat in the corner, a ‘Not for Sale’ sign taped to it. Not many people know about the bloodstain under that chest, but that’s a story for another time.
The man crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head, a twinkle in his eye. His tiny dark eyes were almost hidden completely under thick, graying eyebrows. The lines around his eyes deepened as his thin mouth spread into a smile.
“Look what the cat dragged in.”
A stout woman with a pile of salt-and-pepper curls appeared from the back room, her necklaces clicking. She rushed over and threw her arms around me. Her bright head scarf scratched against my cheek.
“We haven’t seen you in ages!” She stepped back and looked at me over the round glasses sitting low on her pointed nose. “You look thin. You should eat more.”
The man frowned. “Deanne. Don’t bother the young lady.”
“Hello, Paul.”
“Hello, Betty.” He nodded at me, looking very serious.
He knows something is up.
I didn’t even have to ask. Deanne planted herself at the front counter so Paul and I could talk in the back room.
Paul, my former employer, owns the pawnshop but makes his meat-and-potatoes from the same job Audrey does—contracting thieves to acquire specific items. I think he probably has hit men in his employ as well but I’ve never asked.
I still see Paul occasionally since his pawnshop is close to Ruby’s office. I sometimes pop in to say hi or for, ahem, “other” business.
Paul and Deanne McCoy are two of the sweetest, hardest-working people I know, especially within the business. Deanne knows how Paul makes most of his money and she’s okay with it. Both of their sons have medical school paid for because of his line of work. She loves bragging about her sons becoming doctors. The ladies she plays cards with are very jealous.
Paul offered me a chair in his office and sat behind his messy desk. He rested his hands on a few scattered papers, folding his pudgy fingers together.
“What can I help you with, missy?”
I took an envelope out of my purse, set it on the desk and slid it closer to him. Paul opened it and nodded at the diamond ring inside.
“You should know I’m happily married already.” He smiled.
“Aw, shucks. I was hoping to make an honest man of you after all these years.”
Paul slid his glasses on and checked it over with his hand lens, holding it up to the light to check the sparkle and clarity. The enormous stone was mounted on a gold band.
“And where is this little bauble from?”
“I picked it up during an assignment in London last year and just held onto it.”
That was a lie. I’d finally managed to get Rhys’s ring off my finger earlier that morning by rubbing butter around my knuckle. If Rhys was content to blackmail me, then I would happily sell his ring.
Paul peered at me over the top of his glasses. “So why are you bringing it to me today?”
I scratched the back of my neck. “Audrey paired me up with a guy who proceeded to screw me out of a half a million dollars, so I could use the cash.”
“I see.” His eyes narrowed as he considered the ring’s value. “I’ll give you seven grand.”
“Seven? Are you kidding?” I sat back in my chair. “It’s worth at least twelve.”
“Not in this economy. Best I can do is nine. I can wire you some money tonight.”
“Deal.”
Paul sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his torso. “Who’s this fella you worked with?”
“His name is Rhys … something.” I winced, realizing that finding him might not be easy, or even possible. “He’s Scottish. Good at hacking security systems. Happen to know him?”
“Doesn’t ring any bells. Is he new?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never heard of this guy before but Audrey made it sound like he’d been around the block a bit, like I was the amateur between the two of us.”
“I know you don’t play well with others,” Paul glanced at me, “but knowing someone who can hack into security systems could be a real asset to you.”
“You did hear me say he screwed me out of half a mill, right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, you worked real hard for that money, missy.”
My shoulders dropped. He might have had a point.
* * *
A few streets away from Paul’s pawnshop, there’s a small but elegant office with glass doors. Etched on those doors is the logo for the Cedar & Watson accounting firm.
I flipped through an old issue of Cosmo in the waiting room while the receptionist behind the desk texted. She looked disgusted. But she always looks that way. It might just be how her face is.
Ruby Watson is probably one of the youngest people in New York to co-own a successful accounting firm. She worked at another firm for a few years, became friends with a co-worker and they started the company together. She likely could have used a few more years of experience but hated being told what to do by her ten different bosses, all men over fifty and all fans of words like “synergy.”
Eli Cedar came out of his office with a folder and smiled at me.
“Oh, uh, hi Molly.” He gave a little awkward wave. “Ruby should be with you shortly.” He glanced at the receptionist. “Tara, did you offer Molly a coffee?”
Tara barely looked up from her phone. “No.”
I smiled weakly at Eli. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I can get you a water or … or—”
I don’t know if Ruby realizes it, but the girl knows how to make an entrance.
Eli’s face flushed as Ruby stepped out of her office. A braided leather headband kept her piles of golden brown curls in place. A white lace dress hugged her hourglass frame and brown lace-up boots made her long legs look even longer. She tossed a folder onto the front desk.
How Ruby and Eli even became friends, I have no idea. Well, okay, maybe I have some idea. Eli fell in love with her instantly and is now stuck in the friend zone. Meanwhile, Ruby will pretty much befriend anyone but knew she needed someone a bit older, with more experience, if she wanted to have her own business.
And now she does.
“Hey girl,” Ruby said, her voice as soft as honey. “Come on in.”
Eli immediately stared at his shoes and fled back into his office. Poor Eli. I wonder if he’s met any of Ruby’s boyfriends. Her occasional boyfriends are always super attractive, have amazing bodies, perfect hair and usually treat her like a goddess. But it never lasts. Ruby bats for both teams and usually prefers women. She says they smell nicer.
I slunk into Ruby’s office and rested my forehead against the window. I could see right into the office across the street but Ruby assured me it’s the most boring office ever. Twenty or so stories up and just a layer of glass between me and the outside world.
If heights scared me, I’d be in another profession.
“The poo has hit the fan, my friend.”
“What poo is this?” Ruby flopped down on the brown leather sofa she keeps in her office for when she needs a nap.
That’s what kind of office she keeps. And I think that’s awesome.
“I went to Aberdeen a few days ago.” I glanced at her. “That’s in Scotland.”
“I knew that.”
I raised my eyebrow at her.
“I did not know that.” She shrugged.
“I worked with a guy on this assignment, and after it was finished and I was on my way back home, he contacted me again. He’s going to hand me over to the FBI if I don’t give him my share of the payment from this job.”
“And how much is that?”
“Five hundred thousand.”
“Ouch.” She frowned. “Do you happen to have his bank information? I might be able to track down some info on him for you, if you need me to.”
“Yes! That would be fantastic! I’ll forward you the transit number I have.”
Ruby crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. “I thought you didn’t work with partners.”
“I don’t! But Audrey insisted. Honestly, this job would likely have been difficult with just one person. I just wish Audrey hadn’t paired me with a blackmailing scumbag.”
Ruby is one of the few people who know what I do for a living. Back when I was still working for Paul, he recommended I go see her since I was starting to have too much unaccounted-for cash in my bank account. He sent me to Ruby because she has no qualms about doing business with people like me—professional criminals. She knows how to hide suspicious transactions and spread money efficiently between several accounts to avoid the ever-watchful eye of The Man.
I guess, technically, that makes Ruby a professional criminal too. But she gets to do it with a fancy office and her name on the door. No air travel required.
“Have you sent the five hundred thousand to him?”
“Not yet. I was hoping to come up with a plan, but nothing yet. Audrey can’t even do anything about it.” I sat on the end of the sofa. “Does Eli have any idea what I do?”
She shook her head. “I told him your parents own a ski lodge. That’s the story I’m supposed to go with, right?”
I nodded. “I even told Nate that lie.” I frowned. “I’m horrible.”
Ruby lifted her head off the sofa. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“You slept with him.”
I stared at her. “Wha-what?”
“You and Nate finally had sex.” She threw her arms up in the air. “Hallelujah!”
I felt my cheeks becoming warmer. “Are you always so concerned with the sex your cousin may or may not be having?”
She shrugged. “I don’t really care about his sex life as much as I care about your sex life. How was it?”
I searched for the right words, my mouth twisted. “It was … nice.”
Ruby sighed loudly and let her head fall back onto the arm of the sofa. “How disappointing.”
“You’re gross.”
She shrugged again. “Perhaps.” She sat up. “Well, do you like him?”
I hesitated. “Yeah.”
Ruby burst out laughing. “Oh, honey. I was only joking. Everyone knows you’re in love with that guy.” And she kept laughing.
I glared at her.
“This is a good thing! Why don’t you see where it goes?” She frowned at me. “And cheer the hell up. It’s just a relationship, not a death sentence.”
“Is it a real relationship if I have to lie to him about almost everything?”
“No, I think that’s just marriage.”
* * *
I stirred the vegetables and the sauce in the pan and double-checked the recipe on my phone.
Hopefully I won’t be serving semi-frozen vegetables for dinner. Hell, I should’ve just ordered pizza. Better yet, I could have just hired an in-house chef for the evening. Ooh! Can I just have a chef come over to make all my meals? “Yes, Pierre. Can you chef me up a stack of pancakes?” “Certainly, madame.”
Nate poked his head into the kitchen, looking genuinely alarmed. “Are you cooking?”
“Yes.”
He paused. “Why?”
“Because that’s what people do, I’m told.” I eyed the sizzling pan. “And you made us breakfast the other day so I figured I’d return the favor and make us dinner
.”
Nate checked it out, giving it a quick stir with the wooden spoon. He smelled it cautiously and nodded in approval.
“How was work?” I asked.
“One of the waitresses spilled clam chowder on a customer,” he said, grabbing a beer from the fridge for me and one for himself. “The guy was furious and started yelling at me for some reason. I wasn’t even his waiter.” He rolled his eyes.
Good god, waiting tables sounded miserable. On the other hand, most jobs sound miserable.
He smiled. “How was your day?”
My heart did that stupid flip-flop thing.
“Good.” I busied myself with stirring, to avoid eye contact.
Nate turned on the TV. The evening news was doing a feature on a British charity that was pairing with an American charity to do … I don’t know. Something. I wasn’t paying attention. A familiar voice came from the television. I whipped my head around the corner.
Audrey Fox was standing behind a podium, smiling wide.
I’ve never seen her smile before.
“What the shit?” I whispered.
Nate looked over his shoulder. “What?”
My eyes were glued to the screen. She was standing in front of a huge banner for a charity called The Fox-Hartford Foundation for Women. If she hadn’t been speaking and wearing a Chanel suit, I might have thought it was just a lookalike, but there she was. Not hiding, not trying to blend in.
“We’re so happy we could work together for such an important cause,” she said before the audience clapped.
Audrey hiding in plain sight. It was kind of brilliant.
“Do you know her?”
I blinked at him. “No. Sorry. I thought it was someone else.” I nodded. “Cate Blanchett. That’s who she looks like.”
After a mediocre stir-fry supper, we hung out on the sofa and chatted for a bit. Nate put his iPhone on the coffee table, turned on a slow indie rock ballad, stood up and held out his hand.
“What?” I smiled up at him. “Do you want a high five?”
“No, I’m trying to be romantic.”
“The meal wasn’t even that good. You don’t have to—”
Molly Miranda: Thief for Hire (Book 1) Action Adventure Comedy Page 6
