Page 53 of To Catch A Rook

That, and I liked the sound of her pitchy Midwest accent. Gertie was cute as a button. I’d see what I could do to gether a nice girl to fuck tonight. I eyed up her sweet cheeks and wide eyes as I opened the door to the eatery—well, at least strike up a yarn with. Gertie didn’t strike me as a fuck once kind of woman.

My mouth watered as the scent of grilled meats and spice hit us. We were brought to a table in the center of the room. Tacos were a street food where I came from, but apparently, in America, they also classified as fine dining.

No matter. Gertie deserved a good meal for putting up with the likes of a git like Marco, and I wasn’t hard up for cash.

I’d have retired by the time I was twenty-five if I followed Da’s advice and invested the take of my first few jobs. Thanks to his legacy, I’d started out when I was a lad, joining Da or Ma on scopes when they needed a kid to help their cover.

We once holidayed on the Italian coast as a family when I was nine—one particular job where they’d worked together for the better part of a month. I lounged with my nanny for most of it, but occasionally, I got to attend a yacht party with a bunch of rich saps while Ma and Da worked over the billionaire for a priceless piece of jewelry.

I was the one who’d sneaked the ring out while Ma improvised a distraction. It had been my first taste of the thrill of risk and reward, and I hadn’t looked back. Even if I had the billions to my name like the likes of the Rodriguez empire or my tasty little project, I couldn’t imagine a life doing anything but.

My master’s degree in Software Engineering from King’s College had been to suit my own interests, and I had to convince Da it wasn’t a waste of time. I still ran jobs for The Six in London while I was there, which seemed to soothe his ire a titch. It was a useful cover more often than not.

So,while I wasn’t flying anyone out on holiday in a private jet, I could well pay for my needs for the rest of my life, should I live that long.

Paying seventy dollars for a taco seemed a bit dodgy, though.

I looked up from my menu to see Gertie’s eyes blinking rapidly, a hesitant frown on her cute-as-a-button face. Either she was allergic to tacos or was allergic to the prices.

“Get whatever you’d like tonight, Gert. I’m buying.”

Her brown eyes snapped up to mine. “No, that’s fine, Mr. O—Lauchlan,” she corrected. “I’m just—”

“I insist.” I interrupted with a warm smile, making sure she knew I wasn’t pulling one over her. Well—not that way. “I dragged you out with me tonight, and if I can’t get you laid, at least I’ll know I got you fed, ay?”

Her little titter melted me a smidge, and I hoped, despite myself, I could get her both tonight.

The server took our order, and I scanned the crowd, determined to do just that. I’d gleaned enough from Gertie tonight, and this wasn’t a quick job. I could wait before I started asking therealquestions.

It wasn’t helpful the pair of us looked like a couple having a romantic meal, and I wasn’t looking to throw out the impression we were looking for another bedmate.

I was always up for a threesome, but not with Gertie.

Gertie reminded me too much of … her. The innocence in her smile, the crinkle of her brow at my teasing. The reminder caused a little tug on the hole where my heart used to be. In this light, and a bottle of scotch, I’d mistake her for my little sister.

My gaze caught on a familiar beautiful blonde, seated with a similarly aged brown-haired man in a booth beyond the table area. They looked comfortable, even casual, in their body language, and relaxed, as if this were a routine evening.

Hewasn’t a lover—they sat too far apart for that—but they had a relationship of some kind. I made a mental note to look into who Hillary Lane was spending her time with after hours at an over-priced taco stand.

Our little table talk at the event the other night made it clear I wasn’t the only man Hillary was sleeping with.

I was still doing my research, little by little. Both of my pet projects were working side by side, and I wasn’t in a hurry to complete either until all the pieces were properly in place.

The Six never guaranteed a set timeline for their clients—just a time window in which the work would be done. The client paid up front. If the job wasn’t completed, they got a percentage of their money back. I’d never heard of such a thing, but I’m sure it happened, just as sure as the sorry sucker they would hire to fulfill a contract never lived to see another one.

I’d need to set another date too. Getting railed in her apartment had its perks, but it was time to go deeper into the world of my beautiful Blondie.

I turned my attention back to Gertie, who’d been chattering away while I was reading the room. I hadn’t found any single contenders for a shag mate, so dinner would have to do.

We stuck to comfortable small talk for the rest of dinner, while we ate admittedly delicious food. I came to realize I genuinely liked Gertie’s company. Conning was an emotionally isolated life, and it was rare to have any moments of casual chat for the sake of it. I was glad that her part in my plan was relatively innocent. I’d just make sure she didn’t get any blowback on account of my … friendship.

Hillary caught my eye when she sidled out of the booth, abandoning her guest, and made her way down the crammed lane of tables toward me. In a gold silk blouse and copper skirt, she looked radiant as ever.

Her confident strut through the restaurant reminded me once again who I was dealing with. A woman of poise and power, and so much damned sex appeal my cock hurt every time I was around her. This job was significantly better than the time I’d had to seduce a Russian baron whose breath had smelled of turnips and his sack even worse.

“Lucky,” she cooed when she got to our table, appraising me with that carefully neutral cadence of hers. “How good to see you.”

I stood and brought her in for a kiss on each cheek. “Good to see you, Blondie.” I caught a brief sultry smile before her attention turned to my demure friend.

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