Page 83 of No Longer Mine
“How about this? Wow, Scarlett, I’m so happy you’re okay. I was worried sick about you when you ignored me like I haven’t been there for you almost all of your life.”
I rolled my eyes at his dramatic tone. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I just… I don’t know, I felt lost and needed to wallow.”
“Apology accepted. The drive is in Russian, but it looks to be inventory, financial records, routes maybe, and even a contact list— though that is coded. It’s hard to tell, but you might have hit the mother load on this one.”
I let out a breath. “Good, I want as much info as we can get. I need you to start deep diving into Sinclair Cristof… The other night,” I stopped. Could I tell him? “He threatened me at his club, and I think it’s high time we pay him a little visit.”
“It’s funny you say that.”
“Oh?”
“That’s your next target. Someone has put a hit on dear Sinclair Cristof. You’re to get as much information as you can on him. Swipe any flash drives you can find, and of course… you can take your fill of jewels and the like.”
“What’s the deadline?” I chewed on my bottom lip. This was interesting timing, though I wasn’t upset about it. It gave me an excuse to try to help bring this man down—if that was what they were doing.
“It’s on your time, but sooner rather than later.”
“Do we have a name for the client?”
“Nope, I have a number that belongs to a burner phone, and the voice is, of course, autotuned.”
“Okay,” Someone wanted to get to the Cristofs badly. It was suspicious, strange even, but I wanted to get to him too, which meant I wouldn’t say no. I paced the length of my borrowed bedroom. “I’ll take the job. I need blueprints of his apartment and his schedule.”
“I’ll do you one better,” Oliver said as he typed away on his computer. “I have his wife’s.”
“How is that supposed to help me? He didn’t have her with him the other night.”
Oliver laughed a little. “The other night when he was out, so was she. They only stay in when he doesn’t go out. When he goes out, she meets up with friends or her sons to have lunch or dinner.”
“You knew I would say yes.”
“You’re getting predictable.” He typed on his keyboard some more before my phone pinged. “That’s the most recent blueprint of their penthouse and her schedule. How are you going to get in there?”
That was a great question. I wasn’t quite sure just yet. But that was half of the fun.
I tried my best not to think of Dimitri again, but I kept his political doings pulled up on my phone. He’d managed to pass new bills that were going to clean up the city. So many wins for him in such a short amount of time. There were pictures of him in the press with his family celebrating, and even a few parties hosted at his home. During the two weeks since I’d last seen him, I spent my time meticulously going over how to make his father my next mark. Yet I still didn’t feel one hundred percent okay with the plan.
I’d found old servant entryways, though Oliver cussed me up and down the entire time. Something wasn’t good enough with the plans, and I needed him to find another. I couldn’t fuck this one up. I would have to pose as staff to get into the building. Oliver tapped into the security system in the building. He knew when they came and went, and even had one of their uniforms made for me. It fit me like a glove. I ran my hands down thelength of it before I began pinning up my red locks behind a blonde, curly wig.
Darla, the sweet blonde housekeeper, mysteriously won a trip to Cabo— all expenses paid through a sweepstakes that she couldn’t remember signing up for. As well as a couple thousand dollars to cover her taking off of work for the week, or maybe even the month. The Cristofs kept their staff and what they paid them locked down. Which meant they were either paid cash or they were paid discreetly some other way.
Thankfully, it wasn’t that hard to find facial recognition software to track down the women who came and went from their apartment. I would look, for the most part, as one of their regulars, as long as no one looked too close and I kept my face from the cameras. Easy enough.
I patted the keycard in the front pocket of my uniform. Cleo had slipped into her apartment as soon as her flight took off and found it on the entryway table. It was cloned, just in case, and placed back in her apartment. Though I had a feeling that she wouldn’t have a job when she got back from her trip, when all of this was said and done. I didn’t like how guilty it made me feel. After all, I usually gave to those in need and poor Darla was overworked, and from her digs, underpaid. She was the most likely to take the vacation with her wife over anyone else. Especially since her wife had to have knee replacement surgery just a few months prior and couldn’t contribute to the bills. Living in New York City wasn’t cheap either.
I decided as I was tying my shoes and putting the finishing touches to my outfit that I would give her more money, anonymously, when all of this was over. I couldn’t be the reason this woman lost everything just because her bosses were the scum of the earth.
I pressed the comms into my ear and cleared my throat. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, babe.”
I screwed up my nose. “No code names?”
“I thought babe had a good ring to it,” Oliver laughed.
I rolled my eyes. “Try again.”
We’d never tried to have a romantic relationship, and I wasn’t going to be trying now. We’d been through too much together to even tiptoe down that road. Plus, I was almost more than certain he was gay, though he never said for sure. He didn’t date women and the dates he did go on were locked up tight. He was never seen by the press and he didn’t check out women when we went out together. There were signs, but I wouldn’t push it. If he wanted to tell me, he would tell me when he was ready. Or never at all. I didn’t care. It was his life, not mine. All I cared about was that he was happy and taking care of himself.
