Public Enemy, Undercover Lover

by Amanda Meuwissen

  Taking most of the mess with him, Ford pulled his hand away and slipped it into his jacket to clean off unseen. “You may have to punish me again for that. Or maybe, next time, I’ll punish you.”

  Feeling rather smug and satisfied, Andrew could only nod, closing his eyes and enjoying the afterglow.

  “Mr. Wen,” Steven’s voice brought him abruptly back to reality. “Have I put you to sleep back there?”

  “No!” Andrew said on instinct, flushing furiously as he opened his eyes and righted himself, so very glad for the dark and the table hiding him.

  “I should hope not,” Steven said firmly, and then continued where he’d left off about possible future targets the police were watching.

  Waiting until no one was looking anymore, Andrew discreetly did up his pants. He glanced to the side, but Ford was gone, having slipped away unnoticed.

  No matter. As soon as the briefing was over, Andrew would be on his trail.

  * * * *

  Isaac hadn’t been able to resist stopping by the police station after catching wind that Andrew would be there for a briefing on the very same cases he was most interested in. He wasn’t foolish enough to have bugged the precinct but keeping tabs on his competition was good business.

  The hands-on interaction hadn’t been planned, but Isaac didn’t regret it, already wondering when he might make good on his suggestion for a ‘next time.’ Seeing Andrew again had stirred up all sorts of old desires, regardless of how things had ended at Christmas.

  How else things had ended was that he’d become busy with someone else.

  Hey, Dad! Lunch tomorrow?

  A text from Dalton, who called him ‘Dad’ with ease, warming Isaac every time, even months after first hearing it.

  Dalton Wellesley—his son.

  Arriving at his offices, Isaac snuck into the alley to go in through the back. The security firm was in his old safe house, newly renovated. He’d bought the building officially with a loan his parole officer helped secure, and the rest had mostly been decorating. The place was large enough for a lobby, conference room, him and his associates to each have their own offices, and space for Isaac to live there.

  He fired off a quick text in reply: Just name the where and when.

  How about the firm?

  Nice try.

  Isaac’s one rule while they got to know each other was that Dalton never get involved in his day job, past or present. It was too dangerous after the enemies he’d made turning in the other escapees—and giving up a life of crime, especially since he hadn’t planned that part.

  No one, other than the people Isaac trusted most, which was the small handful he worked with, could ever find out that Dalton existed. A target on Isaac’s back wasn’t the same as one on his son.

  After hours only, he reminded Dalton. He didn’t even like that. Usually, if they weren’t meeting out and about, they stuck to Dalton’s apartment. That was safer.

  I’ll wear you down yet, Dad.

  Isaac smiled. Dalton’s mother sure had, though in entirely different ways.

  Their time together had been a brief affair when he was much younger. She was a good girl who hadn’t belonged in the neighborhoods she was frequenting. Isaac had been hurt when she disappeared, but he’d moved on, understood that no one in their right mind would stick around a felon-in-training if they had better options, which she must have agreed with because she hadn’t told Dalton who his father was until she was on her death bed.

  Isaac had never known she was pregnant.

  Replacing his phone in his pants pocket, he slipped inside the building.

  “That’s a good look on you, Arty,” Kathleen teased, passing by him in the hall.

  Arty for Artifice, a nickname she was careful not to use in mixed company.

  Kathleen Watts was an ideal administrative assistant on top of HR, a reformed con-artist, who might have been picked up by Vice a time or two. Potential clients responded well to her lyrical voice and classic bombshell physique—long red hair, green eyes, and a body worth taking a bullet for.

  From what Isaac had heard, a few had.

  He removed the police cap and shimmied off his jacket. He’d safely hide the pieces away in case anyone ever came snooping—though the jacket needed to be cleaned—but he didn’t have to fear any snitches among his employees.

  “Maybe I chose the wrong career.” He winked at her.

  Luke appeared just as Isaac reached his office door, and even with the hat and jacket tucked under his arm, the large man startled.

  Luke Chambers, big and burly and imposing, with black eyes and skin nearly as dark, was a former enforcer for hire and an ideal choice for muscle as Isaac’s lead field agent. He’d also been a bouncer at the bar down the street and pointed Dalton in his direction. He and Kathleen were Isaac’s oldest friends, but former criminal or not, Luke had an intense aversion to anyone in uniform.

  “The fuck’s that getup for?”

  “Police briefing on the city’s newest thief.”

  That halted Kathleen from disappearing down the hall.

  “Anything good?” Luke asked.

  “I’d say so. Now I know everyone who was hit, which includes our newest client.”

  “Larson?” Kathleen pressed, as she and Luke followed him into the office. “You got Larson Manufacturing?”

  “Signed proposal came into my email this morning. I’d say we should celebrate, but we have work to do.” Isaac sat at his desk, shoving the jacket and cap into his bottom drawer to be dealt with later. “If we can figure out how to best protect against this new thief, or better yet, figure out who it is, we’ll pick up all the businesses that were targeted before Wen can even look their direction.”

  Kathleen’s eyes twinkled at the prospect, but Luke clenched his jaw. He thought their healthy rivalry was a waste of time.

  It hadn’t felt like a waste earlier.

  Isaac patted his pockets to be sure nothing else remained from the precinct but froze. In his right pocket was his phone. In his left…was something foreign.

  A Bluetooth tracker.

  “What’s that?” Kathleen asked.

  “Get Riley in here,” Isaac said with a grin. “I’ll forward you the Larson contract and we can discuss that later. I promised we’d survey their current security this week.” He rolled the tracker between his fingers. “Let’s make that right now. Looks like I have a tail.”

  * * * *

  Usually, Isaac did all his security testing at night while a business was closed, since that was when a thief was most likely to strike. Today, he was making an exception and leading Andrew Wen on a wild goose chase.

  “Anything yet?” he asked of his surveillance and tech specialist, Riley Sedgwick. Riley was the youngest of his crew but had been the most promising talent before his hacking skills landed him two to five behind bars, which he’d gotten reduced due to good behavior.

  “Quick check-ins but nothing ongoing or that says where he is. Definitely following you though. You must have him smitten, boss. How exactly did he get that tracker in your pocket?” Riley was clever, but he had no filter or sense of decorum. He’d hit on Isaac blatantly from the first day they met.

  He had a similar physique to Andrew, although shorter, with dark hair and eyes just the same too, but Riley didn’t interest Isaac that way. Not that he had to compare everyone to Andrew; he just happened to be thinking of him now.

  “Mind your business and keep me posted,” Isaac ordered over the two-way radio. It was clipped to his belt, but he also had an earpiece. “Once you learn a location, let me know.”

  Cell phones were the cheaper option for a small security firm, but they were less reliable and only good for one-on-one, something Andrew knew too, since he also used two-way radios.

  Which were easier to hack, especially for Riley.

  Larson Manufacturing was closed for the day, still recovering from their recent theft, and had agreed to the impromptu run on their security. Breaking in
to test defenses, even if Isaac never stole anything anymore, was usually a thrill that reminded him of the good old days and assuaged his compulsions. But this place was a joke.

  That wasn’t what troubled him, however, once they got inside and made it to the monitoring room, like something out of an ‘80s action movie, complete with ancient TV screens. What concerned him was that they hadn’t come across anything to suggest the place had been broken into before.

  “You sure they haven’t altered anything since the theft?” Luke asked as they stood staring at the screens.

  “Positive. It was my main line of questioning before they hired us.”

  “But there’s no sign of jack shit.”

  “I can see that. Same story as several others, according to that briefing this morning. It’s as if they were hit by a ghost, or their security was shut off from the inside by one of their own.”

  “You don’t think that’s what it was?”

  “Wish it were that easy.” Isaac crossed his arms, brow furrowing at the monitors. Larson didn’t even have personnel here. Security guards were only for after hours, and apparently, their little trial run didn’t count. “There’s no indication of an inside job. I’d blame it on their security system, but all the others hit like this used different companies. Whoever this thief is, they’re good.”

  “Sounds like you.”

  “They wish.” Isaac preened.

  “You think about asking Willow G?”

  “I did. You know she never gives up any clients.”

  Willow G was the city’s most reputable information broker used by gangsters, thieves, and fences alike—and neutral enough to not have a grudge against Isaac. He’d known her for over a decade, and he still didn’t know what the G stood for.

  “She swore that, whoever this is, they’re not using any fences. No one she knows anyway. She asked if it was me too.”

  Cameras and alarms didn’t stop the truly savvy criminal but getting past even that minimal of security without leaving any breadcrumbs was a commendable feat. Isaac would have wanted to hire this person if his life had gone differently.

  “Can’t make recommendations if we don’t know how the place got knocked over to begin with,” Luke grumbled.

  “We can make recommendations about this pitiful arrangement.” Isaac gestured at the screens. “We’ll learn everything else we need soon enough.”

  “How? By playing footsie with Wen?”

  Isaac shot him a scathing look. “We’re through here. I’m sticking around to see how this plays out. I expect your report on my desk tomorrow morning.”

  Luke grunted. He acted like brainless muscle, but he didn’t miss attention to detail. That’s why he was so good in the field; no one expected the brute to be clever.

  After he’d left, Isaac took the tracker out of his pocket to roll it between his fingers again.

  “Hey, boss?”

  “Yes, Riley?”

  “Sounds like Wen is one building over, watching from the roof. Want me to patch you in?”

  “Please do,” Isaac said, already turning for the exit to take the stairs.

  There was a crackle over the two-way radio, a brief pause and a click, and then—

  “—hours, man. It’s getting dark out, and instead of trying to earn us more clients, you’re obsessing over the one you lost this morning,” Kevin complained.

  “I’m not obsessing,” Andrew said. “Ford knows as much as we do about this mystery thief, maybe more now. We have to get ahead of him, or we’ll be losing a lot more clients real soon.”

  “And how much has your Batman routine delivered so far?”

  Silence, which meant Andrew hadn’t gotten anything, exactly as Isaac had planned. He couldn’t learn much without breaking into Larson Manufacturing himself.

  “Should I start checking the classifieds?” Kevin mocked. “You know, since we are dealing with Artifice. Here’s one: Annoyed man desperately seeking more sensible friend.”

  “I’ll call it a night soon, okay?” Andrew said. “I just want to see what he does next.”

  Isaac smirked, opening the door to the roof to meet the cool evening air. The hours had ticked by and it was indeed getting dark, but he stayed hidden for now, peering from the stairwell to see where Andrew was.

  There—to his left. A good distance separated the buildings, but Andrew was visible standing in the corner of the opposite rooftop near a gothic statue of a gargoyle with its tongue lolling out.

  “Can we get some real work done tomorrow?” Kevin said, though his voice was more humored than annoyed. He was young like Andrew, and as talented as Riley at handling tech.

  Not enough to realize they were being eavesdropped on, however.

  “Sorry, Kev. I’m not trying to obsess. I just couldn’t get Ford out of my head after this morning.”

  Oh really?

  “How did that go down anyway? I mean, you got a tracker on him, so you must have gotten close.”

  Intimately.

  “Uhh…mostly just in passing. Five minutes tops. Sleight of hand, you know.”

  Sleight of Isaac’s hand first.

  “Well, I hope you get something out of this,” Kevin said, “but don’t stay out too late. You’ll get back on top with Ford soon.”

  It took all of Isaac’s self-control not to laugh. He certainly hoped that was true.

  “Thanks,” Andrew said with the hint of a sneer only Isaac would notice. “Have a good night.”

  There was another click as Kevin signed off, but Andrew didn’t immediately hang up. He had an earpiece in as well, and instead of reaching up to disconnect the radio, he placed a hand on the gargoyle’s head and looked out over the city.

  “Not too shabby a view, eh, Bruce?”

  Isaac pressed the voice button, causing a fresh crackle to sound over the line, as he stepped out of hiding.

  “That you, Kev? I’m heading out. Honestly, I could use a nap. I am so ready to hit the nearest mattress.”

  “That an invitation?”

  Andrew gripped the edge of the roof in alarm, but he didn’t see Isaac, faced away from him. “Ford?! How did you—”

  “It seems Mr. Sedgwick accidentally crossed our lines. And looks like we’re alone.”

  Andrew glowered, not buying the ‘accidentally’ part one bit, but it wasn’t anything he could prove. “What do you want?” he demanded, relaxing against ‘Bruce’ after his initial startle. “Yeah, we’re alone. Kevin signed off for the night.”

  “Not exactly what I meant.”

  Isaac waited, watching and leaning against his own ledge until Andrew felt the weight of his eyes and finally turned. Isaac waved.

  The buildings were three to four meters apart, enough for a narrow alley to exist below, though the drop was still significant, and jumping across would require nerves of steel. Not that Andrew looked like he’d try that. He stared in shock at how Isaac had snuck up on him, right in his line of sight if only he’d been looking in the right direction.

  “Now I have to worry about you infringing on my favorite perches?” he said, his voice distant across the rooftops but clear over the radio.

  Isaac pulled out the tracker and chucked it across the expanse.

  Andrew caught it, and then scowled when he realized what it was. “Can’t blame me for trying.” He shrugged and shoved it into his pocket.

  “Oh, I could, but all’s fair in corporate espionage, and that wouldn’t be nearly as fun as the punishment I promised you.” Isaac made a point to drift his gaze slowly down the length of Andrew’s body, dressed as he’d been that morning in a pressed button down and slacks with a long navy trench coat that revealed a flash of red interior when he moved. “You do owe me one.”

  Irritation crossed Andrew’s face, followed by curiosity, a glance around to be sure they were alone on their respective rooftops, and then a slow, creeping interest. “If I agreed with that…what would you want?”

  Chapter 2

  A flutter
of nerves stirred in Andrew’s stomach. He still couldn’t believe he’d allowed Ford to touch him earlier, let alone such intimate skin on skin contact in a crowded room of his former peers—who were also police. But the memory of Ford’s hand on him had occupied his thoughts far more than stealing back business.

  He should put an end to this, tell Ford off, tell him it was never happening again, and leave. But even just the thought of Ford’s touch, in public like that while still in secret, shot a spike of excitement through him, and he shuddered under his familiar stare.

  Ford looked so good in actual clothes instead of in a prison jumpsuit or stolen uniform—sleek, simple attire in all black that made his blond hair stand out starkly in contrast. Like the tattoos Andrew knew were hidden beneath the layers.

  “If I agreed with that…what would you want?” Andrew asked.

  “What do you think?”

  Heat climbed Andrew’s neck, his own clothes suddenly suffocating. “Do you want me to come over there?”

  “No, Andrew,” Ford’s voice dipped lower. “I want you to come right where you are.”

  Andrew hardened from Ford’s voice alone.

  “Maybe a better view is in order. That ledge looks wide enough. Why don’t you stretch out on it for me?”

  This was a terrible—wonderful—idea. They were alone. On separate rooftops. There was no threat, no danger. And Andrew couldn’t deny the shot of heat that pulsed down to his groin.

  He sat on the ledge, scooting back to lean against Bruce, their lone witness, and spread his legs, resisting the urge to touch himself, though he didn’t try to hide the way the fabric between his legs was starting to strain.

  Ford looked at that telling sign, at how hard Andrew was growing from nothing more than his intense gaze and teasing words, and then flicked his eyes to Andrew’s face. “I am going to tell you what to do, and I expect you to follow my instructions exactly.”

  “Or what?” Andrew challenged.

  “Or I’ll have to come over there and spank you.”