Code Name Heist (Jameson Force Security 3)

The most surprising bit of information? William is the suspect the police believe to be behind the plot to free Mercier, and he’s now a fugitive, too.

This part still stuns me as I figured William to be a liability to Mercier the way Sin and I had been. I’d misjudged that, though.

Despite how much I dislike Mercier—he had tried to kill me—there’s a part of me, thief to thief, that admires his audacity and foresight in carrying out such a brazen escape. But it ensures his life in France is over. He’ll never be able to return. In fact, he’ll have to start his life all over again. Probably not a hard thing for a man who has no real family and gobs of wealth at his disposal to do, so I don’t feel sorry for him in the slightest.

News of his disappearance was a welcome relief to all of us at Jameson. It means Sin and I are safe. There’s no reason for Mercier to spill the beans on us now. Even if he had for pure spite, there’s no proof even placing us in France. The police could never come after us without Mercier’s testimony, and I can guarantee he’s not coming back to France to do that.

So yeah… all is well that ends well, I guess.

Except I’m here in Pittsburgh while Sin is God knows where, pissed off and uncommunicative. I’ve talked to George twice. While he’s been pleasant and empathetic, he made it clear he’s on Sin’s side and he wasn’t going to share a goddamn thing with me.

Which I understand.

“How long have they been in there?” I ask Bebe as I take a leather chair opposite her.

When she glances up, I jerk my chin toward the conference room.

“About an hour,” she replies, focusing on her laptop again.

I watch a moment as Kynan talks to several people in the conference room. It’s Malik’s parents, his two brothers—Max and Lucas Fournier, who play hockey for the Carolina Cold Fury—and their sister, Simone. They’re here for answers to questions that have gone unanswered. I’m sure, more than anything, they want to know what’s being done to find Malik as it has been a month since the ambush.

I don’t know how much Kynan can tell them, because while it was an off-the-books mission, our government funded it, which implies there’s some secrecy involved.

Man, I feel for them, just as I do for the families of all of those who lost their lives. But the situation with Malik is hitting us all a bit harder because we don’t know what happened to him. He could be dead, or even perhaps worse—yes, worse—he could be a prisoner suffering repeated torture. It’s caused me a few nightmares thinking about it, so I can’t even imagine what his parents are going through.

“Did you hear about the Renoir?” Bebe asks, and I raise an eyebrow.

No need to ask what Renoir she’s talking about. “What about it?”

“The police found it,” she replies, smirking at me over the screen of her laptop. “In a room in a seedy motel after an anonymous tip was called in about it. Now it’s back with the rightful owner.”

I frown. That’s weird.

But she’s not finished with her story. “Apparently,” she drawls with a dramatic flair, “the tip coming in was so close in proximity to Mercier’s arrest, the police wondered if there was a connection. They returned to Mercier’s chateau for another look through, only to find a secret room suddenly wide open—filled with stolen artwork—under his office.”

My jaw drops.

“Further rumors report there was an empty spot on the wall, exactly the size of the Renoir. So now charges are going to be amended against Mercier to add all that stolen loot on, and the police are scrambling to figure out how the stolen Renoir was lifted from Mercier’s estate and tipped to the police. Quite the mystery, right?”

A flush of anger sweeps through me as it all clicks. “Goddamn it, Sin,” I mutter.

“Quite daring,” Bebe remarks.

Because yeah… there’s no doubt Sin somehow managed to avoid police scrutiny as they’d actively investigated Mercier for the stolen diamonds, found and opened a secret hidden room only to steal back the Renoir, and then tipped off the police—for no other purpose than to return that piece to its rightful owner.

Damn Sin and her conscience for so unnecessarily putting herself at risk like that.

I’m still thinking about the ways I can cheerfully strangle her when and if I see her again, when Bebe asks, “Why didn’t Sin come back to the States with you as planned? I worked hard to create a fake alibi for her here.”

I’m unable to come up with an answer. I mean… it’s simple, but it’s also complicated.

“Oh, come on,” she urges. Setting her laptop on the couch cushion beside her, she leans forward and wraps her arms around her legs with clear interest on her face. “What’s the story? You clearly knew her before you went there, right? And I’m thinking there’s some major history between you two, but you care for her. Otherwise, why would you have us work so hard to help make her safe with fake alibis? And then… you have Cruce go over there to kidnap her and give you a bomb jacket so you can play ‘who has the bigger dick’ with Mercier—which I still need the details on how that went down by the way—but then you come back after all is said and done and Sin isn’t even with you. That was a letdown, and now you’ve been moping around here all week and—”