Page 79 of Brick's Retribution

"We need to talk about the tracker," she says without preamble. "Specifically, the audio capability."

Did Brick tell her?

He must have.

My stomach drops. "You think they heard everything?"

"Have to assume they did," Amara confirms grimly. "Every conversation, every plan, every..." She glances between Brick and me.

Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what she's implying.

They could have heard us in the tunnel, heard our confessions, our intimate moments.

The violation of it makes me want to shower for a week.

"Motherfuckers," Brick growls, his jaw clenching.

"Indeed," Amara agrees. "Which means they know about the plan to infiltrate the auction."

"So we adjust," I say, pushing past the disgust. "They know we're coming, but they don't know how or when. And more importantly, they don't know everything we know."

Amara leans back, studying me. "You still want to proceed?"

"More than ever," I confirm. "If they've been listening, they've heard me talk about legitimizing the family business. They'll expect me to be careful, calculated. What they won't expect is for me to walk right into their trap."

"Because that's exactly what it'll be," Brick interjects. "A trap. They'll be ready for us."

"Good," I say simply. "Let them think they're in control. Overconfidence makes people sloppy."

Amara's smile is sharp as a blade. "Spoken like a true cartel princess. All right, what do you need?"

"First, I need to make contact." I pull out my phone. "I have business associates who move in those circles. One call should get us an invitation."

"Speaker," Amara instructs. "We all need to hear this."

I scroll through my contacts until I find the right name—Marcus Webb, an art dealer who's helped my father launder money through inflated appraisals.

He also has connections to the darker sides of the collection world.

The phone rings twice before a cultured voice answers. "Imani Torres. What an unexpected pleasure."

"Marcus," I greet warmly. "How's the collection coming along?"

"Magnificently. Just acquired a Basquiat that would make your father weep with envy." His tone is light, but I can hear the calculation beneath his words. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Actually, I'm calling on my father's behalf," I lie smoothly. "He's looking to diversify into... certain markets. I've heard whispers about an exclusive auction. The kind that deals in rare finds."The pause on the other end of the line tells me he’s shocked I’m inquiring about this. "That's quite a specific interest."

"We're prepared to spend some serious money for the right product," I continue, letting him hear the determination in my voice. "My father is particularly interested in unique acquisitions. One of a kind pieces that can't be found anywhere else."

"I see." Another pause. "These auctions are... highly selective. Invitation only. Significant vetting process."

"I understand. But surely the Torres name carries some weight? Combined with our financial resources..."

"Let me make some calls," Marcus says finally. "See what I can arrange. You understand there are no guarantees?"

"Of course. But I have faith in your abilities, Marcus. You've never let us down before."

"I'll be in touch," he promises. "Give my regards to your father."

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