“I should come back,” I say suddenly.
“For what?” Kynan asks calmly. “There’s nothing you can do here.”
“Are you sending a team after Malik?” I ask. “Because if so, I should go.”
“Saint…” It’s a gentle admonishment. “There’s nothing to go after. They were ambushed, then everyone vanished. Nothing but bodies left behind. No trail to follow. We can’t even begin to know where they took him from. If he’s even alive.”
“So the answer is to do nothing?” I demand hotly.
Kynan takes in a breath, then lets it out slowly. “We are working with the US government and other foreign allies right now. The Defense Intelligence Agency—DIA—is involved. We’ve offered a reward for any information. We’re not giving up until we find Malik. Right now, though, there’s absolutely nothing you can do. Besides… you already have a job. I need you to keep your head on straight. That way you don’t do something stupid—like get yourself killed.”
I scoff.
“This is serious, Saint,” he warns. “Anyone with fingers so deep in a criminal enterprise that they can send a man away for life isn’t going to take it too kindly if he finds out there’s a snitch on the inside. You have to have your wits about you, and I can’t have you distracted by worrying about Malik, Jimmy, or Sal. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” I mutter, knowing he’s right. I hate it, though. Trying to bring down someone for an insurance company feels like a useless task compared to saving lives.
“Speaking of which,” Kynan says, clearly switching gears. “How close do you think you are to finding useful info on whatever Mercier has planned?”
I sigh. “No clue. I could break into Mercier’s office or home. Maybe dig for information.”
“No,” Kynan growls. “Don’t take a risk like that. You’ve been there for a little over a week. This is probably going to take some patience.”
“And I’m supposed to manage this while our men are getting killed and kidnapped?” I snarl.
“I’m ordering you not to do anything unnecessarily reckless.” His voice is flat but firm, reminding me that he is my boss. “You keep your head down and your eyes open, and you patiently wait until you know what the heist is. Only then will we figure out if further involvement is necessary.”
It’s unclear whether I’m going to participate in whatever heist Mercier is organizing. If I’m supposed to be a part of the master plan, I can’t go AWOL from the team. It would cause too much suspicion. Mercier might even get spooked and call the whole thing off. Jameson most likely won’t ever have this opportunity for an inside man such as myself again.
On the flip side, if I see the entire thing through, there’s a chance I could go down with the entire gang if we’re caught. I’m not doing this under the sanction of any law enforcement agency, after all.
My other phone—the one my new French friends use—starts to ring.
“Look,” I say as I grab it from the nightstand. It’s William, “I have to take this call. Talk later.”
I disconnect the burner, toss it on the mattress, and answer the other phone. “Bellinger.”
“Monsieur Mercier has another job for you,” William shouts. In the background, there’s a loud buzz from a mix of music and people. My guess is he’s at a bar. “It’s in London. Meet me at Margeaux’s at nine tomorrow morning for details.”
London? Christ.
“That’s fine,” I say, not able to hide my annoyance. “But when is this so-called major heist supposed to happen? That’s why I wanted on this crew.”
“It’s coming,” William replies vaguely.
“You know, I could be doing these jobs on my own without having to follow your plans or deal with Mercier’s huge cut of the profits… while making a fuck-ton more money.”
“I get it,” William says, sounding as if he’s mollifying me now. To me, it proves they don’t just want me on the team—they need me. “But you’re not the only newbie Mercier is evaluating. This score we’re aiming for is huge. Several hundred million or more. We need the right people to pull it off, which takes time.”
Several hundred million? Jesus.
“In the meantime, I’m expected to be Mercier’s private thief?” I demand.
“You think the man should stop his business just for you?” William mocks. “Come on, Saint. You know how this works. The kingpin is always at the top.”
I huff an annoyed breath. “Yeah… I know.”
“But I promise it’ll be soon,” William continues. “By the time you finish this London job, we’ll be ready to fine-tune the plan for the big job, then execute it.”
“Fine,” I mutter.
There’s a moment of silence from William, though some punk rock shit blares in the background. Finally, he asks, “How’d it go with Sin? You two good?”
No way does William know what went down between Sin and me a few years ago during our last heist when she’d booted me out of the stolen Jag right when the cops arrived on scene, deliberately setting me up to take the fall. But anyone considered a major player in this line of work knows Sin and I were more than simply partners in crime.