The Chameleon

by Michele Hauf

  And in the process he intended to learn as much as he could about the operation and exactly what the take-away was.

  “Just kidding.” Clive patted the drill. “I say we go in this Saturday. Banks are only open Monday through Fridays here in Finland. It’ll allow that one extra day for discovery and for us to get the hell out of this icy Dodge.”

  “Works for me.” Saskia toed the drill. The diameter of it was a foot across, and the teeth were diamond-tipped. “We going to test this monster out?”

  “Jack, that’s your job,” Clive said. “You and Niles form the setup for testing and give it a go. I want to make sure the five thousand, and the broken fingers, were worth it. Sass.” Clive nodded toward the office. “Let’s talk.”

  Jack and Niles watched as Saskia followed Clive to the office and they closed the door behind them.

  Niles exchanged a raised brow with Jack.

  “An office romance?” Jack asked teasingly. But he didn’t feel the humor like he should have. Clive didn’t seem Saskia’s sort. And besides… Well, he probably shouldn’t go there.

  Niles chuckled. “Unlikely. You do know that if Clive were to hit on any in the crew it would probably be you, mate?”

  “What?” Jack’s jaw dropped open as he realized what the man was implicating. “Really?”

  Niles nodded. “I’m a married man. And Sass is, well, Sass. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, though. The man’s all business. Still. You do have that rugged bad boy thing going for you.” Niles winked. “You ready to drill something?”

  The man’s choice of words made Jack wince.

  * * * *

  The office was chillier than the garage, which surprised Saskia. Then again, the main heating ducts blasted air into the vast space, and she didn’t notice any vents in here. This tiny room could use a portable heater.

  She zipped up her down coat. Her breath fogged before her in intermittent clouds as she waited for Clive to speak. He sat on a creaky chair behind a stack of pallet crates. When they’d moved in, the office had been empty save the chair, and he’d brought in some pallets on which to lay out his papers and whatever else he deemed necessary.

  “Is our Gentleman Jack on the up and up?” he finally asked.

  Saskia shrugged. “Far as I can determine.”

  “As far as you can determine? He’s living with you. It’s your job to figure him out, Sass. Make sure the new guy doesn’t work us over.”

  “He doesn’t have much to say.”

  “No, he doesn’t. But he’s got a smart right fist. I’m glad I had him along for the pickup today. He truly is the gentleman you told me about.”

  “Gentleman Jack always apologizes before he puts your teeth into the back of your skull. That’s his reputation. But he’s also capable of making a mean lasagna.” She blew out a whistle and shook her head in appreciation.

  “He’s a cook?”

  “Best meal I’ve had in over a week.”

  “You soft on him, Sass?”

  “No.” Yes. “Just isn’t often a woman gets a meal cooked for her. And by a man. I’m not going to refuse.”

  “I wouldn’t either. You’ve served me well in bringing him into the crew, Sass.”

  “No problem.” Her shoulders relaxed an inch.

  “Now, I need you to get something for me before we move on Saturday. It’s for a side project of mine that’s happened to overlap with this job.”

  “Anything.”

  “I know you’re an expert in poisons.”

  “I am.” All her alarm bells suddenly started to clang. Of course, Clive would have some intel on her. But only that which had been carefully selected for others to dig up. But still, this subject put up her hackles. Saskia maintained her calm façade. “What’s up?”

  “Just need a bit of Folidol.”

  “Folidol?” Scanning her knowledge of poisons, she hit on the old compound that had once been used in the 1970s. “You mean parathion?”

  “Yes, I think so. Was once used as an insecticide?”

  “Right. When pure, it’s a white crystalline solid.”

  “Perfect.”

  “It’s been banned from use since mid-last century. Very poisonous to humans. It kills upon ingestion. You got a reason to take out a hit on someone, Clive?”

  “Like I said, it’s for a side project. No questions, eh?”

  “That’s cool.” But not really.

  “Is it something you can make?”

  “It would be easier, and quicker, to buy some on the black market. Germany is a good shopping spot for such a thing. Might even be able to dredge some up here in the city.”

  “Can you do that for me?”

  He hadn’t explained why he needed it. And her light suggestion that he wanted to take someone out had been brushed aside. She wasn’t averse to murder—for all the right reasons—and such a poison wouldn’t be requested for any other reason than that. “I…will have to look into the availability.”

  “You’ve got two days. Don’t let me down, Sass.”

  And she took that as a dismissal.

  With a curt nod, Saskia left the room. Outside the closed office door, she bowed her head and breathed in the warm air. It didn’t do much to stifle the new shiver that had clutched about her spine. That wasn’t from the temperature.

  Getting the poison would not be a problem. The problem was this new wrench. What the hell would a man who held up banks possibly want with an insecticide known to kill, and in a horrible and slowly painful manner?

  Chapter 7

  Locating the parathion was much easier than Saskia had expected. And the ease with which she’d arranged a purchase put a wicked tingle at the base of her spine. She was an expert in handling and creating poisons. Thanks to her grandmother’s boyfriend. He’d worked as a pharmaceutical engineer until he’d met grandma Petrovik, and then had turned to creating his own drugs and selling them for top dollar. Yet he’d quickly learned it was easiest and the least noticed by law enforcement to sell poisons instead of addictive recreational drugs.

  Criminals were generally the only ones interested in such substances, because the legitimate companies could purchase such poisons in bulk and not be questioned whether or not they were killing humans. The argument was that they were not. The truth was that decades of exposure to chemicals and small amounts of toxins in the food system was slowly killing, if not seriously damaging the health, of millions. And that was how grandma’s boyfriend had justified his work. Everyone was doing it.

  Since she liked to learn new things, and had a good knowledge of anything that could prove profitable, Saskia had dabbled with poisons under his tutelage. But she had never used or sold them when she knew the result would be a death. Generally, that was the intended result.

  So Clive’s need for poison troubled her. A side job? She hadn’t thought the quiet, methodical bank robber was the murderous sort. Maybe he was selling it to someone else? Possible. But really, what did she know about him? The last job in Belgium had resulted in the crew walking out of the bank empty-handed.

  They’d gotten paid, and now she’d been hired for a new job.

  Something was missing from that scenario.

  Was the poison related to the lacking booty? She couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it was. But it made little sense. They weren’t robbing the bank during business hours. No one would be inside when they struck. So even if, by some weird chance, Clive intended to use the poison to waylay possible security guards, it just wouldn’t happen.

  Had he intention to use it on them, the crew? Get inside, open the safe, and oops, spilled some poison. You’re all going to die while I make a clean getaway with millions.

  That didn’t ring true to her. Clive wouldn’t be so sloppy. And there was no reason for him to kill off the crew. The financial arrangements
had already been made. It wasn’t as though they had to grab enough cash to cover everyone’s tab. As soon as the job was completed, money would be wired to their accounts in payment.

  An odd method of paying the crew when really, grabbing some extra cash while in the vault was as easy. But Saskia suspected that Clive answered to someone higher up, and that someone ordered the heist and wrote out the paychecks. So to speak.

  Had poison been a part of that order? No way to know. Even with this disturbing news she intended to see this heist through. She had to, in order to keep her cover and her thumb on Jack Angelo.

  Thinking of whom, Jack strolled into the living room and sat on the sofa next to her. She quickly closed the laptop and set it on the floor.

  “Making secret rendezvous plans?” he asked with an almost wink. It was one of those looks that implied a wink, but didn’t deliver.

  “Aren’t you the teaser this fine morning? Get an extra jolt of caffeine in your coffee?”

  “I recognize a redirect when I hear one. Fine.” He’d been stringing the yellow tie about his neck when he’d sat, and now he focused on making the knot. “Not willing to divulge your secret liaisons with all the men you plan to dupe into having sex with you?”

  “Don’t be an asshole, Jack.”

  “Does that mean I’m your only dupe?”

  She wasn’t going to answer that one.

  “Okay. What are the plans for today?”

  “I have an errand to run in a few hours. Did you and Niles test the drill last night?” She’d left after Clive’s request, unable to concentrate on watching the boring turn of the drill for an hour.

  “We did, and it’s slick. Cuts through concrete and rebar much faster than Niles had anticipated. We’ve modified our entry time from two hours to one.”

  “That’s awesome. What did Clive say?”

  “Not much.”

  “As usual.”

  He adjusted the knot of his tie and smoothed a hand down the slick of yellow. Today he smelled like her peppermint soap from the shower. It had a strangely attractive effect on her, made so masculine with his natural intensity.

  “What did Clive have to say to you yesterday, alone in his office?”

  “Why? You jealous, Jack?”

  “Not of a man who prefers other men.”

  “So you figured that one out?”

  “Niles told me. I’m a little slow on the whole gaydar thing.”

  “Clive is a manly bit of gay. Too bad he bats for the other team. He’s one sexy man.”

  “You think so?” He spread his arms across the back of the couch, not quite comfortable, but more claiming his territory. “What qualifies as sexy to you?”

  She shrugged, liking his subtle uncertainty and the way the conversation was veering. It kept the focus off the real concerns. “Stubble and silver hair? I never thought I’d say this, but the combination is major sexy. And just enough of a tan to give him a healthy glow. I think he’s a health nut, too. Probably puts down kale and wheat grass shakes, or something awful like that.”

  “Kale.” Jack mocked a shudder. “That stuff looks mean.”

  Saskia laughed. His assessment of the vegetable was right on. Then she dipped her head and looked at him through her lashes. “But what I also find sexy is not so much hair and stubble.” She averted her gaze to his head, which barely sported a quarter inch of dark hair, and he must have trimmed his stubble this morning because it was a mere shadow on his skin. It outlined his square jaw. A warrior’s face, he had. Rough, rugged, and the broken nose added the bit of wild that really got her going. “Also a certain confidence.”

  “So stubble seems to be important.” He rubbed his jaw. “Not abs and muscles?”

  “Oh, for sure. A well-honed physique is always a nice touch. But the real sex appeal is all in here.” She tapped her skull and pulled up a leg to tuck under her other leg, turning on the sofa to face him. “Not necessarily brains or smarts—although, that is a given—but what is going on in the man’s head. What makes him tick? What is important to him? What isn’t?”

  “That’s a whole lot of philosophical stuff just to get to sexy,” Jack said.

  She tapped his shirt cuff. “What makes you tick, my Irish bull?”

  He shrugged. “A sizeable paycheck and the promise of a challenge.”

  “That’s what’s important to you? Money?”

  “Most of the time, yes. But foremost? Family,” he said with so much conviction Saskia felt it vibrate in her veins.

  “Family. Yeah. Family.” Even the family who had taught her to be a criminal? She loved her parents, and couldn’t imagine living a life other than the one she grew up in. But she often wondered what life for her might have been like had she grown up in a normal, suburban atmosphere. And if granny Petrovik had not decided to raise her after her parents had abandoned her, following her brother’s death. “Did your family teach you the trade? You said something about your parents teaching you to fight for respect.”

  “You know it. A man is only as useful as the skills he hones. And he’s judged on how he treats others. And always respect family. Never let them down.”

  “You’ve never let down your family?”

  “Never have. Don’t intend to start.”

  “Would you go to jail for family?”

  “Already have.”

  Did she know that? She couldn’t recall reading that in the intelligence report on Jack Angelo. “How much time did you put in?”

  “Two years.”

  “And now you’re right back to the same life.”

  “I know nothing else. What about you?”

  “Prison time? No. Not yet. And I don’t intend to take up space in a tiny cell anytime in the future. I’m damn good at what I do.”

  “Cocky. I like that.” The husky tone of his acknowledgement stirred in Saskia’s core. So sexy. He rubbed his jaw. “What do you do, exactly? Besides putting on a costume and duping innocents.”

  “Like you?”

  He nodded with a wince.

  “A little of this. A little of that. I like to fight, run grifts, occasionally broker a stolen goods deal. I am a Jack of all trades, if you will. But safe-cracking is my forte. I can’t wait to get my hands on the vault. Niles says it’s an oldie but a goodie.”

  “You familiar with the vault?”

  “Yes, it’s supposed to be a Richardson 2700. It’s got a glass plate and a digital interior monitor, but I’m all about the hands-on old-style crack. I’ve tapped into two previously. Gaining access will not be a problem, Jack. You can trust I’ll hold up my end of the bargain.”

  “I hadn’t worried that you would not.”

  He offered her a small smile. But it was in his eyes that she saw the genuine interest and perhaps even a glint of desire. The man had been giving her the eye since they’d met (even when he’d not known she was who she was). But this look was gentler, maybe even longing.

  Saskia leaned in closer until his faint peppermint scent teased at her senses.

  “You never kissed me in the hotel room, Jack,” she said.

  “That was a fast fuck. We were a speeding train wreck.”

  “You call it a wreck. I call it a good time.”

  “I agree with the good part.” He shook his head. “But to be honest, it feels weird now.”

  She pulled back from their closeness, suddenly at a loss. “Why? Do you feel some moral obligation not to have sex with me again, because…?”

  “In the hotel, you were a means to relieving some exhaustion and frustration over my encounter with the pregnant woman.”

  “You mean me.”

  “Right. You threw me with that one. But now, I know you. And this.” He waggled his finger between them to indicate what she had hoped could become a kiss. “Things are different.”

 
“Not so much, Jack.” She tapped his stubble. He was so warm. Masculine and made of steel. Such a man. “Except the part where I want to know what your kiss feels like.”

  “You think two people working together should kiss?”

  “I’ve never been one to follow rules. I suspect you haven’t either. Rules are for pussies. Yeah?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “And now?” Parting her lips, she teased out the tip of her tongue, waiting for him to answer her call.

  “You tempt me.”

  “Why do you have to resist so much, Jack. Kiss me.” She didn’t want to beg for it, but then again, that was a surprising turn-on. She leaned in and put her hand on his arm. “Please?”

  “You do ask sweetly.”

  He leaned in and she met his mouth with her own. It was a simple, easy kiss, that teased her to plunge forward and attack him, but Saskia held back. When had she last let a man simply press his mouth to hers? Giving her the luxury to taste him. To smell him. To gauge one another’s want with the intensity of contact, skin on skin, mouth to mouth.

  She inhaled him and he filled her with dangerous ideas about secret liaisons and not-so-secret ones. And all she wanted was to see what he did next. To let him take control.

  Would he dare? Was he the rough and ready man she wanted him to be?

  He tilted his head, and their mouths twisted, finding a new angle. This time, he opened her lips with his tongue and touched her sigh. He was much more tender than she expected from a man who liked to rough up people. An interesting surprise, especially since her choice of men was generally fast, furious, freaky, or all the above.

  She detected a hint of cinnamon on his breath. “You had one of those korvapuusti buns with your coffee this morning, eh?”

  “I love those cinnamon buns. Makes putting up with the frigid temps much easier.” He kissed her quickly, then sat back.

  Saskia immediately regretted the question. She’d given him reason to stop the kiss. “What? You are already bored of kissing me?”

  He shook his head. “I could kiss you all day. But I’m still struggling with the right and wrong of it. Shouldn’t. I can kiss whoever I damn well want to kiss.”