He nodded. “Already working on my disguise.” There was actually a hint of excitement in his words I would not have expected.
And he was right. By now, Devon has secured the painting and has left the Tate property. I’ll hang out as long as Sawyer wants, then ditch him once we leave here.
I dig out the small white paper swan that I’d tucked away in my back pocket this morning and set it in the water. It bobs and weaves its way across the pool.
I take another sip of my drink. It won’t be long before the fireworks start.
* * *
I’m expecting the call but jump anyway when the phone rings. The burner was waiting on my kitchen table the second I got home from the party.
“Yes.”
“The blue hair looks better than I thought it would,” Mr. Smith says in his mechanical voice.
“It’s going to be a bitch to remove.”
He laughs quietly. “The package will be picked up shortly and details on the next job will be delivered along with confirmation of your deposit, which includes the bonus.”
I open my laptop and log into my account, where I can already see that the money has been deposited. I start the process of moving it, just like always.
“I’ll be here.”
I think he’s about to hang up, then he adds, “I must say, I’m impressed you recovered it.”
“How many people did I beat?” I’m doing a little fishing of my own. I don’t think he’s going to answer so I push just a little. “Was I the underdog?” I want to know how many more rungs of this ladder I need to climb to make it to the top.
He lets out a soft chuckle. “You’ve always had an ego problem, Lucca.”
“I call it confidence, and it’s worked well for me so far,” I purr into the phone.
The silence stretches but I wait him out. If he wasn’t going to tell me, he would have hung up by now.
He finally says, “I’m only going to tell you this now since you were the victor and had the nerve to ask.”
When he doesn’t say any more for a full minute, I say, “You’ve worked me up and I’m right on the edge. Don’t be a tease now.”
That laugh again. “Let’s just say I needed to see who of mine would rise to the top under less than ideal circumstances. And who can recognize when the most obvious path is the wrong one. Congratulations.”
“Was there even a client? This didn’t feel like a real job.”
“The job is always real, but you may not always be aware of what the end goal is.”
Before I can say anything else, Mr. Smith says, “Answer the door. I’ll be in touch soon.”
The call ends and I move to the door. Peeking through the peephole I see my guy in his usual UPS outfit holding a small box.
“Right on time,” I say as I pull open the door. He hands me the small box, and I give him the painting wrapped in brown paper. “Want to come in for a drink? We can get drunk and spill all our secrets,” I say with a wink. “You know you want to, George.”
“You know I can’t do that no matter how much I want to.”
George and I have developed an easy camaraderie over the years. It’s hard to make friends in this business since I’m always on the move. Devon is really the only true friend I have, but sometimes we go months without seeing each other. George is the only other constant in my life. Well, other than Mr. Smith, but I’m not sure he’ll ever be more than a mechanical voice to me.
“So blue hair, huh?” he asks.
I shake my head around. “You like it?”
“I like the blond hair you had in New Orleans. That may be my favorite.”
I laugh. “Well, I may be blond again after I strip this color out.”
“Okay, Lucca, got to get this to the big guy. Stay out of trouble.”
Leaning into the hall when he starts to walk away, I call out, “I’m going to wear you down one of these days and talk you into staying for a drink!”
He stops a few feet away and turns back around to face me. “If anyone could tempt me into breaking the rules, it would be you.” He steps back in closer and adds, “Just remember, the bigger the job, the closer you’re watched. Eyes are everywhere.”
I watch him walk away while I consider his warning. It’s not the first time he’s given me one and, I hope, not the last.
Chapter 20
Present Day
Ryan follows me to the door of our motel room but doesn’t step outside. I turn around, lean in, and kiss him gently.
“I won’t be long,” I say in a soft voice.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me close. “You sure you’re okay? Don’t want me to come with you? You may need another getaway driver.”
My laugh is loud enough to feel real. “I wish, but this is something I need to handle alone. Plus, I know you need to check in with work. Gotta keep all those old ladies happy.”
He peppers me with quick kisses while his hands roam. “Call me if you need me.”
One last kiss and I’m walking away.
Ryan watches me from the open doorway until I turn out of the lot. Today is important, and I need to clear my head and remind myself why I’m here. I have some time before my next stop, so I drive around in a random sort of way to center myself.
It also gives me time to identify who’s tailing me and screw with them.
Because I know someone is back there. Since the Tate job, someone has always been there.
My mind wanders back to that job as I cruise through a neighborhood. I think back on that complex security system that guarded some stuffed dead animals, a cabinet of cigars, and not much else. That was not as much a job, but more a twisted game where he pit us all against one another.
Devon had watched that house as religiously as Mama had watched Victor Newman in The Young and the Restless—never missed a second. He studied who came in and out, he made sure I was aware of every camera so I had the least amount of screen time, and he identified every person who came for the painting.
When the painting was delivered and my fee had been deposited, it was time to move on, but I couldn’t stop wondering about the others who showed up and failed. I couldn’t shake my curiosity about who they were and whether they wanted more from life than moving from job to job like I did.
Because Devon is Devon, he sent me exactly what I wanted almost before I had to ask for it. He didn’t even make me feel weird when I said I wanted more than screenshots of them from the video feed, I wanted names and addresses. Mr. Smith sent six of us into that job, and I wanted to meet them all.
That was the first time I had ever been that close to learning who else worked for him, and I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. I knew it was possible that not all of them would want to talk to me, but I was hoping to get to speak to at least a couple of them.
We may have been competitors on the Tate job, but why couldn’t we be allies going forward? This was not the first job that I realized the value of having someone on my team who answered only to me. And this time, I would have been one of the failures if it hadn’t been for Devon. I convinced him that it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to them. We could combine resources. And brainstorm strategies.
We could build a community.
At the end of the search, Devon could only give me one name and address. I drove all the way to Cape San Blas, Florida, between jobs. Walked up to the cutest little pink house, where half a dozen wind chimes hung from the front porch and the doormat had a drawing of the sand and surf, and the words All we do is beach, beach, beach printed on it.
That search for the others who attempted the Tate job and the conversation with the one person I did manage to talk to changed everything for me.
For the first time, I wanted to quit this job, this way of life. Flee and start a new life, one with purpose, like Andrew Marshall spoke of that morning in South Carolina. The shiny gloss of this life had worn away, leaving all the scratches and dents behind. But it isn’t a job where you turn in your two weeks’ notice. Not if I ever wanted to go back to being Lucca Marino and everything else that meant.
So I stayed. I kept taking the jobs he offered like I had an option to refuse them.