King Me (Forever Wilde 7)

“I need a Narcol motion sensor button to attach to the tunnel door. It’s a little device—”

“I know what it is,” Ziv interrupted without looking up. “We don’t have that kind. We have better. Much smaller. It should be one in one of the boxes. Mouse, you’re looking for a little blue box with a giant purple logo on it.”

“Gotcha,” Mouse said.

King’s eyes jumped around from one teammate to the next, clearly surprised at their capabilities. It made me wonder if he always worked alone, or if he had a crew who helped him on a regular basis. He certainly didn’t act like he was used to having help.

King rubbed the stubble on his unshaven cheek. “Let’s see… I don’t think I’ll need scuba equipment, but I’ll double-check on the satellite imagery. I assume you have a mask and gloves. Hmm… A GoPro that can record video would be good, if you have it. Then we can create a record of the inside of the tunnel for planning our escape the night of the main op.”

“We have that, no problem.” I took a sip of my coffee and thought about King alone in the tunnel. I still didn’t trust him, especially knowing he had history with Elek. “Ziv will go with you in the tunnel.”

I could tell King was getting ready to argue with me. So I immediately changed the subject before he could open his mouth. “I jogged past the outer edge of the property last night and noticed an SUV driving the perimeter on a regular patrol. We need to take that into consideration and be ready in case we need someone to distract them.”

Mouse frowned. “Why in the world does he have that kind of security on his house?”

King glanced at him. “It’s his way of making himself feel important. He has friends with estates here who have that kind of security. It’s most likely simple showing off.”

“Compensating for something,” I muttered.

“What about you?” King asked.

“I don’t need to compensate,” I said.

He blinked at me, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Good to know, Big Boy. I meant, what are you going to do about the patrol?”

“I can be ready to distract them if need be, but I have to be careful. I’m the only one who could get any of you out of the Greek jail cell.”

Linney started teasing Ziv. “This time, remember not to take your wallet. Oh, and maybe don’t start trying to explain yourself to local law enforcement. Do you want me to look up the Greek word for lawyer?”

Ziv kicked her under the table while Mouse got a fit of the giggles. I met King’s eyes.

“See? These bozos speak for themselves.”

Some of the tension seemed to leak out of King’s stiff posture. “You guys have been together for a long time, it seems.”

Linney stopped typing long enough to look up. “Four and a half years. Interpol put together the task force to investigate a particularly pervasive string of art thefts. Our sole focus has been identifying, tracking, and pursuing the infamous art thief named Le Chaton.”

Surprisingly, even more tension seeped out of King. “Should it worry me that you’re not very good at your job?”

Did he just…?

I made a move toward him, but Ziv grabbed my shoulder. “Boss, he’s deliberately baiting you. Do not fall for it.”

I knew he was right of course. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to punch him in the face. If he only knew how many hours of sleep I’d lost knowing I was this close to catching him… If he only knew how many job opportunities I had passed up in order to stay on the team trying to catch him… If he only knew just how unbelievably difficult it had been for me to hand him blanket immunity in exchange for his help on this one job… I couldn’t even think of it. My annoyance toward him had been banked by our current op, but those words had peeled back my civility, leaving my anger burning like wildfire out of control.

But I was the king of control. And I would not let him get under my skin.

“The reason we never brought Le Chaton to justice was because we are extremely good at our job. We are honest, fair, and thorough. We don’t jump the gun. Which means we will not cut corners to make it work. So let’s stop dicking around and get back to it.”

After twenty minutes of shoveling breakfast down while tapping away at our computers and checking equipment, King looked up.

“I don’t see any reference to his yacht.” He scratched the scruff on the side of his face. “Wonder if he still has it. If so, we need to get eyes on it. It used to be the place he kept all his favorite pieces. He said it was easier to get them into international waters when the heat was on. Paranoid bastard.” He muttered the last part under his breath.