The Thief

by Michele Hauf

  Xavier stabbed the desktop with a finger. “That's exactly how it works. Don't tell me that's not true. I'm not that stupid.”

  Dixon had no reply.

  It would be foolish to argue against using sex to gain an advantage. The ECU knew fucking everything. Even when they should not. It shouldn't surprise Xavier how much they knew, but it did.

  “I had her trusting me.”

  “And then you did not.”

  “She stole from the jewelry store. There's another crime to add to your dossier! I thought that’s what you wanted from me?”

  “Emotions, Lambert. Check 'em. Leave this to us. I'll reassign the recruitment. If she gets out of there alive.”

  Xavier slammed his fist on Dixon's desk. “Jack Angelo can't do what I can do.”

  “And what, exactly, is it that you can do?”

  “I'm going to give Blackwell what he wants. A bigger prize than the small-time thief he's already got. Me.”

  “Absolutely not. You are the ECU's asset. I won't authorize such a move.”

  An asset. He'd heard that term so many times, he forced himself to see it as a compliment. But right now? It felt dirty.

  “Then let me bring Katirci to Blackwell. That’s what has to happen to get that damned stone back.”

  “We've activated Katirci's movement and are keeping an eye on him.”

  Which meant they may have already tagged the guy and were watching him to see what he did, or if he led them to Blackwell. But they already knew where Blackwell was. They could track him through Josephine now.

  “What is on the stone?” Xavier asked. “Have we determined that? Maybe it's not worth the effort? We have the formula for the weapon. Paris is safe. What is it about that missing stone that you're not telling me?”

  Xavier blew out a breath and straightened up. Realization washed over him. That was it, wasn't it? Dixon knew something about the missing stone. And it was more valuable in the ECU's hands than out in the wild.

  “It's not what you think.” Dixon stood from behind the desk, propping his hands at his hips. “Kierce managed to do something to the original shot you took of the stone—I don't know how that computer stuff works—and he was able to get a partial read of the etching.”

  “It's a payment.”

  “Exactly. Latitude and longitude led us to an ATM in the 2nd arrondissement. When an agent entered the code, he got a warning. It said that payment will not be issued until the task is completed.”

  “The task being, setting off the biological weapon.”

  “Yes. And should that task not be completed in the designated amount of time there will be repercussions. And we've been able to determine it will involve a bomb, but have no clue where it will be set off. Here in Paris? Doesn't make sense if an agent was hired to set off the biological weapon in the first place. Which leads me to believe that whomever is holding the stone will become a target.”

  “Meaning, death? Well, that will take care of Lincoln Blackwell for you.”

  Dixon winced. His eyes strayed to a stack of papers to his left. On top of that stack lay a black file. “He's been marked for recruitment as well.”

  “What? The bastard kidnapped Josephine—” Xavier squeezed his hands to keep himself from slipping into an emotional tirade. “This is a cluster fuck.”

  “That all depends on who is making such an assessment. You need to dial it down, Lambert. We need Blackwell in hand, with the stone secured before the clock runs out.”

  “And how much time do we have?”

  “Quinn guesstimates twenty-six hours.”

  “Guesstimates?”

  “He's running an algorithm on the ATM transactions right now. We should have an update soon.”

  “You have to send me in. I'm the only one who has any clue about Blackwell. Josephine has told me about him. It's obvious he's taken her as leverage. He can't actually believe she has the necklace, which must be what he ultimately wants. Do you think he'll set off the weapon?”

  “Our records do not indicate that he is the type to initiate such mass destruction, but there is five million at stake.”

  “Shouldn't that be chump change for a man like Blackwell?”

  “It would have been two days ago. But since he stepped onto the ECU's radar? He's suddenly lost almost everything he's got stashed in foreign bank accounts.”

  How could a man so smart as— Ah. “Recruitment tactics?”

  “Exactly.”

  Xavier raked his fingers through his hair. The shit that had been going on behind his back was incredible. He didn't like being a pawn on the chess board. But he understood he hadn't much say about it. It was either toe the line or toe the dirt six feet under.

  So this was what helpless felt like. And Seph must feel the same way. The man she hated most, who had forced her back into stealing, now held her hostage. Xavier couldn't allow her to suffer because of the intricate workings of the big bad ECU machine.

  “I'm going after her,” he stated firmly. “Tell Kierce to lead me to Blackwell.”

  Dixon sighed and crossed his arms high over his chest. The man should patent that condemning stare. “You should know, after recruitment and training she won't be stationed anywhere near you.”

  He expected as much. Could be good for both of them. Though it would tear him apart knowing what he'd done to her. And what they could have had, if only he'd the courage to walk away from the ECU with her at his side. Such a move could prove the greatest heist he'd ever pulled off. But the only way to garner such opportunity required he play the game.

  Xavier nodded. “I'm good with that.”

  Dixon tapped the intercom on the desk module. “Quinn, get Lambert the last known location of Lincoln Blackwell. Let's reassign Jack Angelo to Victor Katirci. Do you have an update on the time frame?”

  “Yes,” Kierce said weakly.

  “And?”

  Both Xavier and Dixon exchanged glances as they waited for Kierce's reply.

  “The initial transaction occurred a little over a day ago. That leaves eight hours, thirty-seven minutes until—well, you know.”

  “Go,” Dixon ordered.

  Chapter 25

  “You've been following me,” the man said.

  Josephine sat ramrod straight on the wooden chair. She had no choice. Her hands had been bound together and stretched behind her, pulled down to her ankles. It wasn't an excruciating position, but it did tax her shoulders and biceps, and it wouldn't be long before fighting back—if released—was no longer an option. She regretted the dress, which lay high on her thighs, wishing she could tug it down.

  “Turn about is fair play, yes?” she muttered.

  Lincoln sat on the edge of a stack of wooden pallets. They were in what looked like an abandoned warehouse, with dirt floors, unpainted brick walls, and missing glass windows. He flipped back his thick black hair, which gleamed with pomade that smelled like the ocean. Dark brows wrinkled as he laughed. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

  “Admit it. You're obsessed with me. Following me all these years?” She shook her head. “Give it up, Lincoln. It's never going to happen again.”

  “I'm not so pitiful as your fantasies cast me. I'm over you, Jo-Jo.”

  “Don't call me that.”

  “Jo-Jo.” He gripped her chin, tightly. “How's the cat?”

  “If you took Chloe again—”

  He shoved her head back and stood to pace the dirt floor. “I'm done with catnapping. Moved on to bigger and better things. But answer my question. Why are you following me? You stole the fucking necklace back. What more do you want from me? Maybe I should be the one asking why you’re obsessed with me.”

  “You know why.”

  He shrugged, pouting. Then he moved closer, eyeing her with that searing gaze that had once given her the shivers—the good kind. “You are working with that thief. The Fox. I remember your obsession with him. I once thought you were
fucking him, but then realized it was only some sort of schoolgirl crush.”

  Josephine sucked in her upper lip.

  “But the two of you answer to someone bigger,” he continued. “I'm trying to track down the puppet master, but I’m hitting a brick wall.”

  “Hitting bricks will only get you bruises. Slam your face against it, will you?”

  The slap stung, but it hadn't been unexpected. Josephine whipped back her head, flipping the hair from her face, never breaking eye contact with Lincoln. “I guess you owed me that for the knife, eh? How's your shoulder?”

  He dragged his tongue over his front teeth without opening his mouth; a move he made when he was annoyed. She hoped he'd had to get stitches.

  “What's on the diamond?” she dared to ask.

  His shoulders relaxed as he settled onto the pallet stack again. Stretching his legs before him, he smiled. “You don't know?”

  “I've never known. I was just a pawn in your game, remember? No one gave me big-picture details. So what, exactly, did I steal?”

  “I think The Fox has given you those details, so I won't waste my words.”

  Fair enough. She was at the end of her rope, but she had mastered the art of the precarious dangle.

  “What the hell do you want with a biological weapon?”

  “Eh? Hmmm…maybe you don't know all. Do you know how much I could sell such a weapon for?”

  “Sure, but you don't have the ingredients list anymore.”

  “I don't. And I've never wanted such a horrible thing. You know it's not my style to get my hands dirty with stuff like mass murder.”

  “People change.”

  He leaned forward. “Have you changed, Jo-Jo? You tried the hard life. Look where it's gotten you. Stealing silly rings from jewelry stores.”

  That he’d had her watched even when she'd thought they had been the ones following him… She slipped a little further down the rope from which she dangled.

  “What have you planted on me? There's some kind of tracker,” she decided. “Somewhere. Something inside me? You bastard. What is it?”

  “It's not so devious as that. But science is making remarkable discoveries in nano skins. Small technologies can now be worn or even passed on to others, such as by dander from a cat, and it will stick for weeks, even through the wash. I'm incredibly impressed. I've invested in the technology.”

  “Chloe doesn't have dander.”

  “But her fur is so soft, and I know cats need a little tender loving care. I gave her a massage one day when she was staying with me.”

  “You're an asshole.”

  “And I do it well. Now, about that diamond necklace. I didn't think I needed the whole thing. Just the one diamond with the payoff code. Enter the code into a secure online rendezvous point and voila. Five million dollars transferred to the bank account of my choice.”

  “So you thought you'd go straight for the money. Now that sounds more like you.”

  “Exactly. And yet, it's always been my money. You might say I made a bad investment and am now trying to recoup my losses. Little did I realize the code requires the fucking task to be completed.”

  “And mass murder isn't your style. Guess you haven’t changed that much. But do you realize if you don't complete the task, something even worse will happen?”

  She studied him intently. Those dark straight brows above his deep brown eyes made him look so intelligent. And the well-groomed stubble? Mercy, she had to look away. Bad boys. Would she ever get over them?

  “Yes, but what? And with the clock ticking?” He clicked his tongue and stood up.

  “You don't know what will happen?” she asked. “Neither do I. But it's going to be bad. Just hand over the diamond, and I'll make sure the good guys get it. You walk away without having bloodied your hands and mark it off as a missed paycheck. Not like you can't afford to miss a few now and then, eh?”

  “Who are you working for, Jo-Jo? Tell me.”

  “No one but myself.”

  “Who is The Fox working for?”

  “I honestly have no idea. He wouldn't tell me. I'm as much his pawn as yours.”

  “Yeah? Whoever that other thief is working for has siphoned my foreign accounts. I can't walk away from that money. I need it.”

  “Ha! Someone got the upper hand on you? I love it!”

  Another slap to her cheek didn't even sting as she imagined Lincoln Blackwell curled up on the floor of his fancy Paris mansion crying over his empty accounts. High five to Xavier's secret club.

  “You're right, you know,” he said. “You're not my pawn. At least, not my only one. I've brought another piece onto the board.” He leaned forward and tipped up her chin. “Of course, this whole shindig wouldn't be much fun unless I got to watch you watch him being tortured. Turnabout, wasn't that how you put it?”

  That could only mean one thing. Had Xavier come after her? The fool. The gorgeous, sexy fool.

  “He means nothing to me,” she said firmly.

  “We'll see.”

  Josephine swallowed and bowed her head. The asshole had won this round.

  Now to see how far he'd take it.

  * * * *

  Xavier dashed out his tongue and tasted his own blood, metallic and warm. It dripped from the cut above his eye. Blackwell's henchman wore brass knuckles. The thug landed his punches sparingly, but each one was placed in the perfect spot for optimal damage and pain. His ribs ached, but the bastard hadn't gone for his kidneys. Yet.

  Xavier questioned his overzealous grab for this job. He should have let Gentleman Jack come in after all. Jack never would have gotten himself in this position. At least Xavier was sparing another man pain. He hoped that was also true for Josephine.

  Arms spread wide and handcuffed to a brick wall, Xavier was still able to stand on both feet. They should have raised him so he'd be forced to stand on his toes. It would have made the torture much more effective. Yet the worst pain came from watching Seph.

  Lincoln had escorted her in to the open warehouse basement fifteen minutes earlier. The man wore a four-thousand-dollar Armani suit that Xavier would have envied were he not simply trying to focus on not bleeding too much.

  The floor was soft dirt, and the setting sun beamed through the top of the high windows. Seph stood fifty feet away, arms crossed, eyes on him, jaw tight. Dirt smudged her blue dress. A bruise marked her jaw. Lincoln stood beside her. She wasn't tied up or restrained in any way.

  Was she trying to be strong for his sake?

  Or did she simply didn't care?

  The henchman's fist pummeled Xavier's left kidney. Shit. He'd been hoping that would come much later. Spitting up blood, he hung from his wrists for a few moments as he processed the exquisite pain through deep, concentrated breaths, and was finally able to support himself by tightening his quads again.

  With each punch, Josephine remained silent. She didn't plead for him, which he appreciated. Theatrics would only give Blackwell more power.

  Goddamn it, he loved the woman for her strength. And her stoic resolve. And for the woman she was. Not afraid to be herself, no matter the consequences.

  Fuck. Did he really love her? What a time to realize it. It was a ridiculous notion. Something that could never work, at least according to Dixon's declaration that, should she be recruited into the ECU, they would never be located near each another.

  There was always the chance Xavier could go on the lam. And take Seph along. Could he do that? Did he want that? Right now he had a certain amount of freedom that constantly hiding from the law could never grant him.

  Xavier spat blood at the thug. The henchman bristled, but didn't wipe the spittle from his shirt sleeve. He turned to his boss for direction.

  “Use the machete,” Lincoln said calmly.

  Xavier winced. Out of his peripheral vision, he'd noted the rusted machete tilted against the wall. Couldn't be sharp. That was not going to be a picnic. The thug
tugged off the brass knuckles and dropped them. Dirt spumed up at his feet. He turned to stalk over to the weapon.

  “He knows where it is!” Josephine shouted.

  Xavier winced. Coppery blood swirled in his mouth. “She's lying.”

  “He's hidden it,” she said. “Had someone do it for him. He's the only one who knows where it is. I'll go with him. We'll take it back.”

  That was a complete lie. And it didn't have legs, either, as far as he was concerned.

  Blackwell paced over to Xavier, fingertips pressed together. Would the man take the bait? Josephine was shooting from the hip.

  “You don't both need to go after it,” Blackwell said. “I'll keep Seph in hand while you go after the necklace, yes?”

  “Won't work,” Josephine said. “He'll run the minute you set him loose. He doesn't care about me. You could keep me in a cage for years and he wouldn’t do anything for you. The people he works for? They wanted him to get close to me so he could take me out.”

  “Is that so?” Blackwell looked to Xavier.

  He forced a bloody smile. “She means nothing to me.”

  Lincoln grabbed Josephine by the hair and punched her hard in the gut. Knees buckling, she went down, clutching her stomach. “Perhaps I've been torturing the wrong person?”

  Xavier closed his eyes. If this began, he could not endure it.

  Josephine's yelp alerted him to another attack, but this time he didn't open his eyes. He heard a struggle, and Lincoln called to his man to stay put as he apparently pummeled Josephine. She was tough. She could protect herself. But for how long?

  After a few rounds of exchanged punches, someone landed on the floor before Xavier's feet. He opened his eyes. Josephine lay sprawled before him; Lincoln held his foot above her neck. The bastard looked up to him. Waiting.

  It was Xavier's move.

  Only years of experience in keeping his emotions in check and an innate lack of empathy allowed him to do what he did next. He spat. On her.

  Lincoln jumped up and gestured for his man to pull Josephine to her feet and hold her aside. She swiped a hand across her cheek and glanced at Xavier, but he couldn't read her. A bruise had already darkened one eye and her lip was split. He would kill Blackwell for that.