I looked back down at the paper and cleared my throat.
“They keep track of all the flight records for their guests. Why?” Mavis tapped the table excitedly.
“I haven’t a clue.” It wasn’t that I didn’t do my research like a diligent little assassin, but I didn’t derive the same amount of satisfaction out of it that Mavis did.
“Me either.” She smiled.
“And this makes us happy because…”
“This could be how they go through customs, or how they arrange for the guests to arrive at the casino. If we figure this out, we’re a step closer to weaseling our way in.”
“Then I’ll be happy when you figure it out.” I shuffled through the paperwork. “What do we know about their security?”
“Guards, cameras, the works.” She turned back to her list of flight numbers.
I found a picture of the interior of one of the casinos. It was a lavish setup with enough guards to start a small war. Cameras were all well-placed, exits were monitored, and plainclothed guards were placed strategically around the room. Whoever was handling their security knew what they were doing.
“Is there footage from the security cameras inside?” I set the photo down.
“Hm. Ask Kenny. He can help you.” She chewed on the end of her pencil, dismissing me from thought. “Ava, why don’t you look at the guest lists, see if you notice anything.”
“Like what?” Ava picked up a stack of papers.
“Recurring names. Important names. If they’re compiling blackmail material, maybe we can use the same tactic to get in.”
“Okay.” Ava peered down at the pages and sucked in her bottom lip.
“Highlighter, dear?” Mavis pulled a marker out of her laptop case.
“Thanks.” Ava tucked her hair behind her ear and narrowed her eyes at the paper.
I stood up and went to the living room. This was good. Ava was doing something she would feel was useful.
Kenny was sitting on the sofa, his boots up on the table in front of him. He bobbed his head at me when I walked in the room and turned back to the television.
“Mavis said you could get me footage from security cameras inside the casinos.” I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms.
“Sure.” He stood up, his lanky frame bending in sharp angles. “My stuff’s in the car.”
I followed him through the house and out the kitchen. Ava was now in possession of three different highlighters and Mavis was humming to herself. If I didn’t know they were trying to figure out how to break into an underground gambling ring, I would think they were catching up on work or doing a word puzzle.
The black car Mavis had used to save us yesterday was gone and a silver minivan sat in its place. Kenny pulled out the keys from his pocket and hit the unlock button. It beeped twice and he pulled open the back door.
“You should disable the noise.” I watched as he shuffled through bags and tossed around computer parts.
“Huh?” He looked up at me with a disc hanging out of his mouth.
“I said you should disable the noise on the unlock feature.” He took the disc out of his mouth. “No need to draw attention to yourself.”
“I never thought about that.” He looked at the van in interest. Probably deciding what else he should do.
“If you can’t figure it out, let me know.”
“Thanks.” He handed me a black duffle bag full of cords and other bits and ends. “It’ll take a while for me to set up here. Do you know what the internet is like?”
“No.” I looked down at the stuff in the bag. This wasn’t typical teenage game gear. Kenny was well funded.
“Do you help Mavis often?” I held my arms out for another bag. My shoulder pulled a little, but it wasn’t bad. Nothing that would stop me if I needed it.
“Just tracking bank accounts.” Translation: she didn’t let him do anything cool. “This is the first time I’ve gone out with her and it’s only because of Laura. She knows I’d go looking for her on my own if she didn’t let me help.”
“She must trust you or she would have locked you up somewhere and come back for you later.” I wondered who this Laura was to Mavis. I hadn’t thought she kept many close connections. Then again, I didn’t know she was raising her nephew.
He picked up a big box and managed to push the van door closed with his shoulder. If he hadn’t looked like he was about to trip over his own feet it would have been impressive.
“She wants me to attend university. Doesn’t want me to muck up my chances.”
“Not a bad idea. You obviously have a talent for computers.” I opened the kitchen door and we slipped back into our stolen bat-cave.
Ava was laughing at something Mavis had said, her face slightly pink. She shot me a guilty look before highlighting something on the paper she was holding, her smile never leaving her face.
Maybe I shouldn’t let them work together. There was no telling what Mavis might be sharing with Ava.
“Can you put that black bag over there?” Kenny dropped his box on the table and I winced. There was a small fortune contained in within that cardboard.
It took two hours to get everything set up the way the kid wanted. He might throw the stuff around, but it had to be just right before he could do anything. By the time I was scrolling through videos it was late afternoon. My stomach growled and I set the laptop down so I could stretch.
“You going to the kitchen?” Kenny looked over at me.
“Looks that way.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Cool. Bring me something back. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” He looked back at his computer and I cocked my head to the side. I could see why Mavis lost her temper with the boy.
“Did something happen to your arms and legs since we carried the stuff in from your van?”
“No.” His face was schooled into an innocent expression, but I could see in his eyes that he knew he had overstepped.
“If you want them to keep working, you’ll get up and find your own food.”
He set his keyboard down and stood up. “I brought groceries this morning.”
“Right. Then you should know what to cook.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Cook?”
“You heat up food in a pot or pan.” I mimed stirring a pot.
“I don’t know how to cook.” He scratched his neck.
“You’re telling me that Mavis leaves you without any way to feed yourself?”
“I can make sandwiches and we have a microwave. Plus there’s always take-away.” He shrugged.
“If you want to go out in the big bad world, you’ve got to learn how to take care of yourself. Mavis spoils you.” I turned and headed for the kitchen.
“I heard that.” Mavis didn’t look up from her work.
“I can always buy something to eat.” Kenny followed behind me.
“No you can’t.” Ava piped up from her seat. She looked up at us. “If you can’t cook, you could end up stuck in a house for days with nothing to eat but canned soup.”
“What’s wrong with soup?” The kid opened the tiny refrigerator and poked around inside.
“Just say no to soup.” Ava smiled at me.
“Try eating it and nothing else for a while.” I took the milk from him and poured myself a glass. I looked at Ava and lifted the carton.
“Please.” She smiled and then looked back down at what she was working on. She was drawing lines between highlighted lines. I handed her a glass and looked over her shoulder.
“Have you found something?”
“I’m not sure.” She hesitated.
“Talk it out.”
“It’s probably nothing. I worked for aircraft engineers, so maybe I’m reading too much into this.” She chewed on her lip. “Most of these flights are on private jets. I can tell from the call signs. They’re a little more complicated here than in the States, but there are a couple that show up very often.”
“Gambling addiction?” Mavis
looked up.
“Maybe. Or it’s people that charter a private jet.”
“You mean the owners of the charter.” Someone that had connections to a group of people that had more money than most small countries. “They’re feeding guests to Maria.”
“I’ve been wondering how Maria could just approach all of these wealthy people with invitations and not worry about being sold out. Yeah, a lot of them are bored, but there’s gotta be a portion of them that are uptight and not willing to step out of line. She needs someone to gauge who is right and who isn’t.” Ava shook her head. “I’m betting that Maria is the owner and has a hooligan managing it for her. Someone charming that can get away with passing out an invite.”
“Makes sense.” Mavis tapped her chin with her pen. “She hides behind a face and they funnel even more money into her bank accounts.”
“So, how do we find this person?” Kenny leaned against a counter and looked at us. He was holding a cucumber in one hand and a spoon in the other. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do with either, but he had a good question.
“We need to figure out which companies seem to be feeding customers. Then pick someone to target.” Mavis leaned back in her chair and pulled the clip from her hair, letting it fall down her back.
“And force them to take us?” Kenny brightened. “Impersonate them?”
“Yeah, because no one would notice we’re not the person they normally worked with,” I snorted.
“Forcing someone to take us would backfire the moment they got a chance to rat us out.” Mavis was watching the cucumber in her nephew’s hand with concern.
“Not if we kill them afterward.” He mimed using the cucumber as a knife.
“How can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time? It seriously boggles my mind.” Mavis rolled her eyes. “We convince them, Kenneth. Make them want to help us.”
“What if it’s a woman?” The teenager sat the cucumber on the counter and bent back to the fridge, looking for something to go with his vegetable.
“Not a problem.” Mavis raised an eyebrow. “Not that I’m going to explain it for you.”
“Not to doubt your skills, but not all women are going to like you. Or find you attractive,” her nephew pointed out as he pulled bread from a bag.
“Then Owen can seduce them.” She said the words as if this plan was completely normal, nothing more than a job, but I saw Ava tense from the corner of my eyes. Usually I wouldn’t mind that job. It took little effort and usually worked better than killing everyone. But after last night I really had no desire to ply anyone else with my charms.
I shrugged, but couldn’t meet Ava’s eyes. I would do whatever I had to, to keep her safe. Even if it made her hate me in the process.
WHAT THE HELL was I? Chopped liver? Had last night not meant anything to him? He was all set to go seduce some rich woman.
I hoped she was eighty-five and on oxygen.
And had an ingrown toenail that he would have to massage.
He could apply her anti-fungal cream.
With his big, manly hands.
Ugh.
I took a deep breath and looked back at the papers in front of me. It was much more likely that it would be a man and Mavis would be working her thing instead of Owen. Yet, he had just agreed to do it if he needed to.
Needed to. He’d do it if it meant we’d get to meet Maria. God damnit. He was willing to do it for me. That was fucked up so many ways I couldn’t count them.
I looked back up at him. He wasn’t looking at me. Instead he was frowning at Kenny as the boy used a spoon to try and peel a cucumber.
“What are you doing?” I stood up and moved toward where Kenny was bludgeoning his cucumber.
Heh. I needed to remember that for a joke someday.
“I was going to make tea sandwiches.” The boy looked over at me, his wide eyes dipping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. A slight blush filled his cheeks and I fought to not shake my head. Hormones. “I’m hungry.”
“And you’re using a spoon because…?” I reached over and took the utensil.
“Couldn’t find a knife.” He licked his lips and stepped away from me as if I was dangerous.
“They’re in the block over there.” I pointed at the counter near a small toaster oven.
“Oh.” The faint red tinge of his cheeks darkened.
Mavis snorted, but was smiling at her paperwork when I looked over my shoulder at her. Owen, on the other hand, was watching me with sad eyes. I knew in that moment in his mind, he’d already resigned himself to sleeping with someone to get us where we needed to go and had said goodbye to whatever we had. That stupid fucking idiot. Like I was going to let him go now.
Wait a minute. Was I contemplating keeping Owen? Owen, the hot assassin? The Owen that-had-driven-me-to-brink-of-insanity-with-pleasure-Owen? He was a human being with a mind of his own. He might—no scratch that—wouldn’t like the idea of being kept by anyone.
This morning had been spectacular, but it didn’t mean I got to keep him.
Maybe it had only been spectacular to me. I was a little rusty, after all.
Nope, I wasn’t going to think like that. This morning had been awesome and he was going to refuse to sleep with the eighty five year old woman with toe fungus.
At least that’s what I would tell him.
Sighing I took the knife from Kenny’s fingers. “What else do you have in the fridge?”
The boy folded his lanky frame in half and started pulling out other odds and ends from the tiny refrigerator. I was well aware of Owen’s eyes on me but I ignored him. No reason to give him more ammo for his brooding session.
I really shouldn’t be upset at this point.
“Here’s the butter.” Kenny slid a small bowl toward me.
“Okay. Where’s the cream cheese?” I looked up from the cucumber.
“Cream cheese?” Kenny wrinkled his nose.
“Americans.” Mavis snorted. “They put cream cheese on everything.”
“The stuff some people put on bagels? That’s disgusting.” Kenny shivered as if I had suggested slapping crunchy peanut butter on the sandwiches.
“Hey, now. This American doesn’t appreciate all of the hate she’s getting. I could have left you to poke at the cucumber with your spoon.” I flourished the stumpy vegetable in his direction.
He held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Please don’t beat me with the cucumber.”
“I thought you were going to make the food.” Owen stepped closer and Kenny backed further into the counter.
“She took my spoon!” He pointed at me.
“I’m hungry and it was going to take him years to do anything with a spoon.” I rolled my eyes.
“Cucumber sandwiches are not real food. They’re for old ladies at tea.” Owen’s eyes took on a more amused look.
“I like them.” Kenny muttered under his breath, but he turned around and rummaged through some bags.
“I’ll take whatever I can get. I’m starving.” I looked at the little tub of butter. “So, if you don’t use cream cheese do you add anything to the butter? Or just slap the butter on the cucumbers?”
“For the love of God.” Mavis pushed back from the table. “Just move. I’ll fix the food.”
The slender woman slipped between me and the counter. She held her hand out for the knife and I quickly placed it in her palm. Stepping back I bumped into Owen, who slid his hands around my waist and spun me so I was facing the hallway.
“Oh. Um, do you need any help, Mavis?” I leaned around Owen and looked at the back of her blonde head.
“No thank you.” Mavis had already finished slicing the cucumber and was cutting the crusts off the bread. “You’re not very good with a knife. I’ll be much quicker without you in the way.”
I blew the hair out of my face and then stuck my tongue out at her. Owen chuckled and his chest vibrated under my fingers. I looked up at him, still unsure if I was pissed at his selfless decisi
on to seduce some faceless rich woman.
“While we wait for food, we should find you some more clothes.” His hand slid along my waist, urging me toward the staircase.
I looked down at my shirt and grimaced at the blood. The jeans were scuffed but otherwise serviceable, but the shirt had to go.
“I have a bag in the living room. You can use one of my shirts.” Mavis offered. “Just don’t take the cashmere.”
“I don’t think your Barbie clothes fit normal-sized humans.” Take that, you knife-wielding, pint-sized assassin!
“That’s what I get for trying to be nice.” Mavis huffed. “Why do you think I told you not to touch my cashmere? I don’t want you stretching it out.”
I rolled my eyes and bypassed her small suitcase by the couch. Wearing her clothes would make me look like I was wrestling to climb inside doll clothes. Instead I’d look at the shirts in the dresser upstairs. Maybe I could find something that would work.
Owen followed me up the stairs and into the tiny bedroom we had claimed the night before. The sheets were still scattered from our morning tussle and I felt the heat creep up my neck and into my cheeks. It was followed by a small smile of pride which I tried to hide while poking through the chest of drawers.
I certainly had tried something new today.
Owen closed the door and walked past me to look out the windows that faced the street. He tucked his hands in his front pockets, the dwindling sun casting shadows across his jaw and sharp cheek bones. His eyes were scanning the street, but I could tell that his mind was elsewhere.
I stacked a wife-beater tank top and a blue button up shirt on top of the dresser. The top drawer was filled with neatly rolled socks and folded boxers. The thought of clean socks was more tempting than a chocolate cake, but I couldn’t bring myself to wear the old man’s.
“You might as well take the socks.” Owen’s voice cut through the quiet room.
I looked at him and frowned.
“It just seems so… disrespectful.” I shivered. “And gross. What if he had toenail fungus?”
“You had sex in his bed.” Owen pulled his hands from his pockets and moved toward me. His whole body language shifted as he moved gracefully in my direction. “I don’t think wearing the old man’s socks would be any more disrespectful.”
The Accidental Assassin (Assassins #1) Page 18
