Page 27 of The Preachers' Promise
“She’s worth speaking to that French asshole for, surely.” Mal chuckles.
I swear to God, the fucker is enjoying this. It seems all we had to do to cheer Mal up was give him a quest. The noble bastard.
Sighing, I pick up my phone and press redial.
“Oui. You better be calling to saymerci.”
“Yeah, I am, thanks,” I grit out. “But also, can you do one more thing for us?”
“Merde,I’m trying to paint a lovely portrait of you, Cain, and you keep interrupting my flow. I have you with an apple on your head, like William Tell, except sadly, the arrow has missed and is right between your eyes. Such a shame.”
I hear a low chuckle in the background and bet it’s his fucked-up twin. The pair of them are insane. They should be in that place, not Ophelia. I bite down my every natural response and simply let out a soft, good-natured laugh.
“You’ll have to show it to me when we get back. Listen, can you do this one last thing for us?”
“Make it quick,” he snaps.
“Is there any way you can take a look and see if any of the staff are new?”
There’s a beat of silence. “Non.”
My heart sinks.
“This is not easy. It will take a long time. I will have to look into each of their personal files. I can’t waste all that time, the paint will dry, and I won’t get your likeness. But I can probably tell you if there are any temporary workers on staff. Or temporary workers. That will be on the system.”
I’m clutching the phone so tightly, I’m amazed it’s not imploded in my hands. “Yeah, that would be good.”
“Give me five.”
He hangs up, and I punch the steering wheel. “Motherfucker.”
“Jesus.” Mal rolls his eyes. “Drama queen.”
I have the feeling he’s not talking about Saint. “You’d be the same if you had to deal with that guy. He’s such an asshole.”
It only takes a couple of minutes before my phone is lighting up again. I put him on speaker this time.
“There are two members of staff who work for an agency,” he says, “and one is due in today. A man called Timothy Smart, in his thirties, five foot eight, and luckily for you, dyed orange hair, so you’ll recognize him easily enough.”
“Thanks, we owe you all.” I hang up before he can come back with anything sarcastic and hope I’m not going to regret saying we owe the Vipers.
“How does that help?” Mal huffs. “We haven’t got orange hair and none of us are anywhere near five-eight.”
“We don’t need to pretend to be him,” Roman points out. “Simply take his ID. I let myself in and say I’m a new member of staff from the agency because Tim is sick.”
“Okay.” Mal claps his hands. “So, we’re a go. Wait for Tim. Accost him. Steal his ID. Tie him up? Yeah, that works. Then Cain creates a distraction at reception, so you can sneak in without getting your ID checked but using it to get through security.”
I huff out a breath. “How do I get in?” They’re not just going to let me walk in there, Mal.”
Are we going to have to mug two people for their ID?
Farther down the street, a panel van with the logo ‘L & M Electricals’ written on the side pulls in. The driver’s door opens, and a man in his forties jumps out. He goes to the back of the van and throws open both rear doors.
“Bingo.” Mal grins.
13
OPHELIA
