Page 41 of To Curse A Knight

“Ever think of leavin’ this life?” Another long drag of the fag crackled into the phone. “Since your Da died, I mean. You’ve got some smarts behind yeh, you could start something new when this is all—”

“Bellamy, my boy, Ilovethis life,” I interrupted, not for the first time since this wasn’t a new conversation. “When I’m sent to hell, it’ll be a wall-less office in a room full of accountants. I might as well live the dream while I’m on this side of the dirt.”

I meant it, too. Conning, the thrill of the chase, the subterfuge, the dance of it all? A man in his right mind with the skill sets I had would never choose to leave it for a mainstream job of listening to Barb chatter about her cats or watching Nelson trim his toenails in the break room.

The only way I’d be leaving this life was in a black body bag, and really? What a fitting end to a killer heist.

“Well,” Bellamy said dubiously, “keep me posted on your progress. We’re going to need to wrap this one up soon, Locky. We’re getting pressure from the client for quick results. It’s not like you to take a few months for this kind of job.”

“It’ll be done,” I promised. I adjusted my tie one final time before stepping out of the bathroom to grab my overcoat. “Have faith, Bellamy. I’ve never let you down, yet.”

“No, yeh haven’t.” Bellamy sighed at the admission. “Slan, Locky.”

“Slan.” I returned the greeting and hung up, eagerly awaiting the files to do my own investigation into whoever was looking into me.

An electric current swept up my spine at the thrill of a little unexpected game of cat-and-mouse. Another ‘pro’ for the old ‘con man as a career’ tally. Couldn’t get this kind of excitement working for Deloitte or some dodgy insurance company.

Glancing at my watch, I hurried down the hall to head to my other special assignment—the bollocks "penetration testing" for the git Xander Manalo.

What kind of name was Xander, anyway? Twat-waffling turd.

It was my last morning for the project—I’d successfully made my way into every weak point of their network, and had issued my professional advice on what to work on to minimize their risk.

Marco Alvarez was taking this shiny Audi for a test drive, and I was just waiting for the real job—the one where he asked me to use my superpowers for something shady. Little did he know, I used my superpowers for shady shyte every day. He hadn’t broached the subject yet, and I was a bit disappointed—I wanted another mark on his coffin to take him down—but it would be any day now; my spidey senses were tingling.

I needed some distance from this Elon Musk wanna be, anyway. Being tied down was as miserable as a thorny dildo, and three weeks was the exact amount of patience I had for that kind of job. I was antsy to say a silent ‘fuck you’ to Xandy and get on to my afternoon meeting.

Blondie was finally introducing me to her hacker. We’d put our heads together, finish the botnet I’d been building. Then finally—finally—I’d crash Marco’s systems and steal every piece of information I could get my greedy little hands on.

I principally wanted access to his bank accounts—the secret ones with private transfers would be best, but I’d take his personal ones and ruin him that way, too. Cut off the head, and all that.

I’d already selected every charity in the country who’d be receiving a sizable anonymous check—with a side cut for me, of course. I wasn’t a bleeding heart; I was getting revenge for Shayna bringing the gobshite down, and revenge for my heartbreak by lining my pockets with his comeuppance.

Shayna. I ignored the twinge in my chest as I saw her smile in my mind; I usually pictured her pouting in some sort of teenage hissy fit to ease the ache, but it was her smile that broke me. Her smile was a brand that still burned to the touch.

Nope, not diving into that pot of piss today. Back to Blondie.

When the holy show with Alvarez was over, I’d buy my Blondie something nice with the windfall. An island, maybe? Never bought a present for a billionaire before. I’d have to think about it.

It was only fair—when I finally found that pretty little painting, it would be traded on the black market for a cool hundred million, at least—and I’d get at least five percent of that. I didn’t know the going rates for tropical islands these days, but I’d see if I could cut a deal with Mr. Roboto to chip in a few million.

The man was as soft for my lass as a pot of pudding. I’d have to work on winning him over a little better. The sexy Colombian could sit on my face and I’d call him Daddy any day of the week, but he looked at me like he’d drown me in a vat of acid the moment Hillary gave him permission.

Challenge accepted, Daddy Roboto. I’m going to get under your skin, and you’re going to love it.

I could drive myself today with Conan and Blondie off doing something important—small luxuries—and I took advantage of the quiet on the short commute to the pompous twit’s office.

Schmoozing and charming the pants off the masses was my strongest skill, but I was mostly a solitary guy. Living in Hillary’s space and having a daily escort was driving me a bit mad.

Sometimes, a man just wanted to sit on the couch in his underwear in peace.

Unbidden, thoughts of Conan, Blondie, and Daddy Roboto popped into my head; the little sandwich show in the dungeon haddefinitelypiqued my interest. I’d tugged my dick in the shower as a little Christmas present to myself, imagining every way I could convince each of them to use me.

As long as I was stuck with the three of them, I needed to get in on that action, or I’d have a chapped dick and a raw fist soon.

Shutting down those thoughts, I arrived and turned on autopilot for my summary meeting with Xander. Once I was given the green light to return to my app project, I hosted a quick team meeting with my merry band of misfits before heading back to the Queen’s palace for our meeting with Blackbird.

I loved the cloak and dagger of it all. “Blackbird.” I wondered if they’d heard of my codename, the one I’d earned as a cocky-as-shyte college grad with a score to prove.Madra Rua—The Red Fox. I’d have to ask.

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