A/N: Thank you, thank you to everyone who stopped by to read, review, fav, follow, etc! It means a lot to a new writer like myself to have support like you guys.
There's gonna be a lot of "cut to next scene" just cause I'm trying to speed up time while showcasing what's going on in between.
I'll stop talking and meet y'all down below! **Important note down below**
THE DUFFLEBAG DEBACLE
Sitting on a plane, headed to Chicago, I glance over at Emmett and see that he can still barely contain his excitement. I cannot remember the last time I saw him so amped up about something.
After Emmett and I found the connection between the cup and Mr. Platinum, we had a briefing with Kate the following morning. She explained to us what the next step in our mission would be.
Our first step is to fly to Chicago and set up shop. Em and I will surveil the coffee house in hopes of sighting Mr. Platinum's son—Jazz helping us remotely. Once we have his daily routine down, we will report back to headquarters and see how best to go undercover. Our goal is to get as close to the Book Keeper's as possible without drawing suspicion to ourselves or our objective.
We only had two days to prepare after the briefing. This morning, we stopped by Renee and Charlie's to have breakfast with our family before flying out around noon. With missions like these, it is never certain how long you will need to stake out a target before getting the intel needed to move on further.
The plane is about to land in Chicago, and I am more than excited to have a few hours to myself. We are starting tomorrow morning, so I plan on taking full advantage of my Sunday 'off' to explore Chicago. I purchased my ticket for the Art Institute of Chicago yesterday before packing, knowing I would have the time to spare. Emmett is meeting up with an old Special Forces friend for drinks, leaving me to an evening alone in the city.
Once arriving, we hop a cab to our hotel, located on the outskirts of town. We don't want to risk having a run in with Mr. Platinum, especially since we are not even sure if he lives here.
I check in at the front desk and head to my room. I find my number and realize that Emmett's room is directly across the hall. I enter swiftly and set my bags down by the bed. The scent of freshly laundered sheets mixed with the lingering stench of stale cigarettes is enough to make me wish they could have spotted for a better hotel. Unfortunately, though, 'lavish' isn't in the job description. I take this opportunity to grab a shower; washing away the airport must that has settled onto my skin. Feeling refreshed and ready for a night on the town, I step out of the shower, facing myself in the mirror.
I made the mistake of asking Alice for help with an idea for my hair. For my last mission, I cut my hair short and dyed it black. But since then my hair has grown out and faded back to my natural brown.
Alice, jumping at any chance to improve my look, took me to her favorite salon. The stylist started with a shampoo and condition, and then added some feathered layers into my board straight hair. From there, he and Alice took it a step further by deciding a good dye job was in order. When I was finally allowed to look in a mirror, I was shocked to find myself a blonde. Darker at the roots, the dirty blonde hair progressively lightened to my hair's tips. The ombré style was a little too chic for me, but Alice insisted it looked fabulous. She had already guilt tripped me about not being able to go to her next sonogram appointment, so I didn't want to add to the list of disappointments by changing my hair to a more comfortable shade.
Alice and Jasper announcing their pregnancy made me realize how much Emmett and I miss when we leave for our missions. I love my job, don't get me wrong, but it has it's downsides much like any other. After we finish this job, I think Em and I would benefit from taking on assignments that don't require us to spend as much time in the field. I will have to talk to him, but I am sure he feels the same. At the end of the day, I want to be able to spend more time with my family, especially now that it's growing.
Once settled into our rooms, I drive Em over to the bar he's meeting his friend at. Not knowing how late he will be out, he opts to take a cab back to the hotel, but promises to keep me updated so I don't worry too much about him. We agree to meet for breakfast in the lobby tomorrow at seven.
I arrive at the Institute, quickly walking up the steps, eager to feast my eyes on the beautiful artworks on display. I'm not an art expert by any means, but for as long as I can remember I have enjoyed going to museums, showcases, galleries; anywhere that I could view precious pieces of an artist's soul. I could spend hours perusing the exhibitions, trying to interpret the artist's message behind their pieces. In college I took as many art classes as I could, and they ended up being some of my favorites.
I find myself standing in front of a piece done by Andy Warhol, completely in awe. It is one of Liz Taylor in his trademark Pop Art style.
I have a few of his Campbell's soup prints hanging in my living room. He is a contemporary favorite of mine, even though he passed away a couple years before I was born.
Slowly admiring all the pieces I pass, I head over to the religious art exhibit.
I stop in front of a painting of a woman holding her child closely. I step forward to read the description, already knowing what it says. The Virgin and Child.
"Beautiful." A velvety smooth voice says from somewhere beside me.
I startle, having not realized I was not alone. It is almost closing time for the museum meaning there are only a handful of people left wandering the halls, most of which are either employees or college students.
If he wasn't blinking or breathing, I would have surely thought the man standing next to me was a statue of a Greek god. A modern interpretation of Adonis would look like if he walked this Earth today.
The Adonis is wearing black slacks and a crisp, light green button up, the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. His must have known that wearing that shirt would accentuate his gorgeous emerald eyes in such a way that every female within a ten-mile radius would find themselves soaked at their core at the mere sight of him. Mission accomplished, sir.
His five o'clock shadow does nothing to hide his strong jawline. If anything, it makes me want to run my tongue along it more. His stubble is a few shades darker than his hair, which is the strangest shade of auburn. It looks like a mosaic of browns and red, perfectly blended, coming together harmoniously to form a glorious thick mane. The style looks as though he's tirelessly run his hands through it all day. On any other guy it would look messy and unkempt, but on him it embodies the definition of perfection.
"The painting, I mean." He says, that deep voice assaulting me once again, bringing me back to reality.
Jesus, even that sounds like pure sex.
I'm surprised I haven't melted into a puddle on the floor—my temperature having risen at least ten degrees in the measly few seconds I have been in his presence, matching that of my rapidly beating of my heart. This must have been how Aphrodite felt when she laid eyes on Adonis for the first time.
I assume he's leaving an art session; probably a male model for the art students here. Seems only fitting.
I suddenly want to enroll in those classes just so I can see him naked. I would probably flunk out the first day. Although, I'm unsure if the cause would be that I was too busy gawking or that I'd fail miserably attempting to duplicate his perfection.
I can already picture myself pleading with the professor.
"Please, professor. He's just too fucking perfect! I mean, look at him. Even you have to admit, any drawing of him would pale in comparison to the real thing."
"Yes, I understand Miss Swan." She'd agree with me. "It's better that you fuck him instead of draw him, that would be the most productive and educational way to become familiar with his body."
"Uh, anyway… Sorry to bother." He says coolly, looking at me slightly confused.
I shake my head, pushing thoughts of paint brushes coated in acrylics running across his abs.
"Oh, no, no. You weren't bothering me." By all means, bother away.
He gives me a crooked grin and I have to look down at myself to make sure I haven't started to evaporate where I stand. He steps back to his previous position next to me, facing the painting.
"You like Bitti?" He asks as he examines the portrait, referring to the creator of the masterpiece before us.
"I prefer Titian, personally, but I do admire Bitti for his graceful use of evangelization through art. He does it so flawlessly." I look back to his painting, marveling at the way he has managed to capture Mary's adoration for her baby, Jesus, in an elegant yet refined manner.
"Beautiful and she knows her art." He mutters to himself softly, forgetting I'm standing close enough to hear.
"Do you have a preference?" I ask, entertained at how adorable he looks talking to himself.
He snaps his head towards me and realizes a second later that I am still referring to art.
"I think I'd take Titian over Bitti as well. I love his mythological paintings too much." He smirks, as if he's thinking of an inside joke.
Loud footsteps are suddenly approaching from the end of the large hallway, interrupting our conversation. We both look to the source and spot a heavy set security guard making his way over to us.
"We're closing in a few minutes, folks. If you could please head towards the main entrance, that would be great. The lights are going to time off here in a minute or two. Don't want you getting lost." He drones, passing us without a glance.
I look back at Adonis, smile and indicate goodbye with a slight nod of my head before walking towards the entrance.
"I didn't get your name!" He calls out once I'm down the hall and almost turning the corner.
"I didn't give it to you!" I shout back over my shoulder, keeping my pace. I smile the whole way to the car.
EMMETT POV
Slipping out of the car, I casually call back a good-bye to Bells, promising to check up on her later.
"Don't have too much fun, big guy." She laughs, rolling her eyes.
"I wouldn't be Emmett if I wasn't planning on a little fun." I wink as I close the car door.
I approach the bar entrance and shoot my buddy a text letting him know I am walking through the door.
Yo, G… where you at – E
At the bar – G
When I enter, I am greeted by a seemingly crowded and lively bar, accentuated by its smaller size. Looking towards the bar in search of Garrett, a hand waving excitedly catches my attention and I see G in the corner.
Leaning against it with a beer in hand, Garret's blue eyes are scouting out his next lay—still the same slick fucker I remember from our days in the force. He's grown out his blonde hair similar to Jazz's and has it pulled into a bun.
"Jesus Christ. What's up with these man buns? Not you, too G!" I groan as I near him.
Laughing, he takes my hand as we exchange a bro hug. "Hey, the ladies dig it. Who am I to deny them what they want?" he says, a sly smirk sneaking across his face.
I chuckle, "As if you don't get enough already."
I nod to the bartender and order a beer before turning back to Garrett.
"So, how you been, man? What are you up to these days?"
"I work freelance security now-a-days. Go wherever business takes me, mainly odd jobs though." He responds with a shrug of his shoulders.
"What job you workin' now?" I ask, sipping my Bud Light.
"Some snobby rich guy. Paranoid about being nuked and invaded by aliens. Has me setting up an undetectable safe house for him with a built in bunker. God, this guy is psycho... I have to drive out to bum fuck Egypt, and then walk about ten miles the rest of the way... Says the government puts tracking devices on every car and can't risk it." He finishes, eyes glued to the bartender's ass.
"Damn, bro... Pays good?"
He smirks, "Incredible. This guy just threw a couple mil at me and asked that I keep it secret."
I nod my head appreciatively, downing the rest of my beer and signaling for another.
"What about you, man? What's the Black Swan been up to?"
"Ugh, I almost forgot about that stupid ass nickname..." I wince. "I have a business with my sister back in DC. Notary office."
G loses his shit, doubling over and howling with laughter.
I respond, rolling my eyes at the fucker. "Listen man, I know it doesn't sound all that great, but it's nice to be working with my sis and be close to family. Pretty chill life, home by six... Good deal."
Garrett composes himself and wipes the tears from his eyes. "Bro, are you fucking serious man? How long have we known each other? Don't come at me with that bullshit. Let's be real, what are you really up to?" He finishes, snickering.
"Dude, I am fucking serious. I'm a notary."
The smile on Garrett's face falters a little before widening again. He leans in, speaking low enough for only me to hear. "E... We've been best friends for how long now? Not only that—I saw you out there man, hell I was there beside you. You were the definition of a perfect soldier. Lethal, precise, never missed a target. A guy like you isn't one to sit still." He raises an eyebrow at me.
I sigh, looking away from G. I know I could trust him, since he has quite literally taken a bullet for me. But I couldn't even tell my own family what I did.
"I may... dabble in other extracurricular activities. But that's all I can say, man." I mutter.
"Ha!" G slaps his knee, "I knew it! It's alright man, that's all I need to know. I wouldn't have let you live that notary shit down if I knew that was all you were up to. Wait 'til I tell Sam you tried to convince me you were a notary!"
"Whatever, asshole." I quip, glaring at him.
Something behind Garrett catches me eye and I look past him. The grip on my beer bottle tightens as I lay my eyes on the hottest piece of ass I have ever seen.
I start at her fuck me pumps—which are bright red and add a couple inches to her already impressive height. It feels like several minutes have passed before I reach her ass, but man, it was worth the wait.
She wears these light-blue jeans that push up her cheeks so perfectly. Her white tank top is tucked into them. The tank itself has no back, showing off her deliciously perfect skin—and from this angle I can see a sliver of the most glorious side boob. The straps that line her collar bone are so thin they look as if they might break supporting her full rack. She has her golden hair tied into one of those complicated braid thingies, with a few locks hanging loose around her face, which unfortunately I still can't see.
Fingers appear in my line of sight, blocking her from my view entirely as they snap together.
"Yo, E... Where'd you go?" Garrett chuckles.
I look back at him, "Oh, yeah. Sorry, man."
He glances back to where I was looking and barks a laugh, "Don't even try it, bro."
I raise an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"
"Blonde goddess over there... I come here a lot. She does, too. Never seen a guy successfully land that one. Nothing but thrown drinks and red streaked faces in her wake."
I look back, examining her again. Her shoulders are relaxed as she laughs with two girlfriends. I wouldn't be surprised if the heavens opened up and a beam of fucking light came down on this girl as she laughed... She lit up the entire room with that smile.
"You know me. I like a challenge." I wag my eyebrows at Garrett.
I turn to the bartender and order three drinks. Two of them are weak girly ones, but the third, that one's a strong one—a man's drink.
"Pink drinks to the brunettes, please. Old Fashioned to the lovely blonde." I nod to the bartender. She gives me a smirk before passing the drinks to a waitress and relaying the information.
"What are you doing?" G narrows his eyes at me.
"G... A woman like that?" I shrug, pointing at her. "She doesn't deserve some prissy girly drink that only gets you drunk after slamming back eight on an empty stomach. She needs a strong drink that compliments her alpha female personality."
"You got all that... By eye fucking her for thirty seconds?" Garrett asks, eyes wide and mouth gaping.
"Nah, I'm just smart and staying far enough away to not have a drink thrown in my face." I snort.
The drinks arrive at the table and the waitress hands the Bahama mama's to her friends. When she hands the blonde the Old Fashioned, she points to me from across the room.
I stay seated and look away, not wanting her to believe I care enough to watch her receive the drink. Truth is, I'd give anything to see those lips touch the rim of the glass as she takes a sip.
I fall back into conversation with Garrett, he tells me stories about his weird cliental and I offer the stories I deem harmless.
G is in the middle of one involving a helicopter, a machine gun, and a tiny Asian woman when the sound of glass slamming against the bar interrupts.
I slowly turn around and meet steely, sapphire eyes. Jesus, Swan. Sapphire... Really? What are you, some pansy ass novelist?
"I'm capable of buying my own drinks, you know." She declares. I don't miss, however, that the glass once sporting an Old Fashioned is completely empty.
"Oh, I'm very well aware of that. I just thought I'd be a gentlemen and offer some lovely ladies a drink, that's all... You have a nice night, miss." I twist back around to Garrett, asking him about the Asian lady's deal with the helicopter situation.
"Yeah, so..." Garrett is eyeing me like I'm out of my mind for turning away from what could very well be Aphrodite herself. "Anyway... We're flying over the Himalayas and she—"
I feel a tap on my shoulder, halting the conversation yet again and I slowly turn.
And that's how you play the game, boys and girls.
I look down at her—well, I wouldn't say down, I've only got about three inches on her with those heels on—and offer my world famous, dimply smile.
"Well... Thanks." She says, her eyes shifting around as she fidgets a little. I swear I see her hand jerk towards my drink, no doubt fighting the urge to throw it at me—but she has no reason to, so she stands there, conflicted.
I'm sure this is the first time a man hasn't thrown himself at her. This is uncharted territory—something I'm using to my advantage.
The best advice I have ever received was from my dad, Charlie. He said, "Always make the woman feel like she's in control—when in all reality, you're the one behind the wheel." That right there has gotten me more pussy than I could have ever imagined.
"It was my pleasure." I tip my head towards her, but my body betrays me and my eyes stray a little further down just for a second.
She catches me, narrowing her eyes. Shit, she's on to me.
We stare at each other for a few seconds. I think she expects me to ask her out, or offer another drink, but I'm not budging.
She huffs and glides back to her table, looking as confused as she is irritated.
I turn back to Garrett, who has dropped trying to play it cool, and his eyebrows are so far up his forehead they almost touch his hairline.
"Bro, what the fuck was that? She's never even said two words to a guy, before!" He exclaims, punching my shoulder.
"Calm down, man. The line has been cast, she's just swimming around debating on whether to bite or not. You'll see." I wink, glancing at her table.
She's faced away from me now but I can see her shoulders are tense and she doesn't appear to be engaging in any conversation with her overly giggly friends.
G picks up where he left off in the story as I order another round. We sit and talk shit for two fucking hours and this chick doesn't even turn back around.
Finally, around midnight I see her sashaying towards G and I, but I act oblivious.
She walks right past me and orders another Old Fashioned from the bartender, standing behind me as I face Garrett. It takes everything I've got not to turn around, pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and bolt back to my hotel room. Damn, I want this girl bad.
Returning to her friends, she barely casts a glance in my direction. I see Garrett is pretty close to getting shit faced, and I'm starting to get a little hazy myself, so I decide it would be best to call it a night.
I make a show of calling the bartender over to close my tab, hoping maybe to catch Blondie's attention, but I don't feel another tap on my shoulder as I sign the check.
I did everything right. Kept my distance, was polite and didn't throw myself at her, even acted like she didn't exist for half the night. Maybe this chick really did like guys throwing it at her, and subsequently playing hard to get.
I pick up my glass and drain the rest of the Jack and Coke.
"Holy mother fucking shit." Garrett breathes.
"You feelin' it, bro?" I chuckle, shaking my head at him.
He reaches for something next to me and holds it up. It's a business card, slightly wet from being put underneath my glass.
On the back there's a number written on it. I take it out of G's hand and flip it over.
FINANCIAL ACCOUNTANT
ROSALIE CULLEN
I feel my smile grow ten times larger.
I don't even make it back to the hotel before I punch her number into my phone.
BPOV
As I'm pouring my coffee at the breakfast bar, I think back to last night with my green-eyed Greek god. Try and say that three times, fast.
Half of me thinks I've gone crazy and made him up, the other half is disappointed I didn't jump his bones right there in the middle of the institute. I don't think Mary and baby Jesus would have appreciated that much, though.
"Morning… How was your night?" Em comes up beside me, balancing a tray with three plates piled with food.
"Morning, Em. It was actually really nice! The art institute here is amazing. I called it an early night and was in bed by ten. How was yours?" I ask, sitting down at a nearby table.
"Good." He says before stuffing an entire croissant in his mouth.
"Just good?" I probe, my fork full of eggs stopped in midair for a second.
He looks up at me from his omelet, "Uh, yeah? Just your typical night with Garrett. Getting drunk and talking shit."
"Hmm... If you say so." I shrug, focusing my attention on the blueberry cream cheese I'm spreading on my bagel.
The drive to The Coffee Studio takes a little longer than expected due to the heavy traffic, but we still arrive relatively early in the day. Emmett parks the rental, a dark grey SUV, on the opposite side of the street of the café.
I pull out the ear pieces from the glove compartment, handing one to Emmett and placing the other in my ear. Once I click the small button on it, Jasper's voice rings in my ear.
"Morning Sunshines!"
"Hey Jazz." I laugh, "All set?"
"Yep, got you guys all hooked up. I'm hacked into all the security cameras of the neighboring businesses, so I've got a pretty good angle on all sides. Under the driver's seat there should be a camera just in case."
"Alrighty. Thanks, Jazz."
"Call if ya need me. I'll be watching, too." He hangs up the call.
Em and I settle into our seats and wait, watching the coffee shop for any sign of Mr. Platinum.
"This is a step up from reading files all day, huh? People watching is a great pastime." Emmett rubs his hands together and wags his eyebrows at me, ready for the game we play during stakeouts. We guess people's lives or what they're talking about. It makes sitting in a car for fifteen hours a day a lot more interesting.
Stakeouts aren't as glamourous as they seem on TV. The perp doesn't just miraculously appear after a cup of coffee and half a donut.
"So, how long do you think we're gonna have to wait for this guy to show up?" I ask before we start on the game.
"Hmm… I don't know. Let's assume the worst and say he just met with someone yesterday. There were twelve photos with his son in them, out of those, seven had the coffee cup. Over the course of two years? That's maybe once every three and a half months? But it's sporadic, since Laurent told you it's never the same place or time. Given that, I'm thinking… Four months. Six, tops." He nods his head, comfortable with his theory, as if we're not the ones who will be subjected to sit in a car for six months. We can only hope that Mr. Platinum's son comes back in town for his favorite cup of coffee way before then.
"Lovely. Just in time for Alice's baby." I remark sarcastically before taking a bite out of my bagel.
"Well, at least you get to call her while we're on stake out duty. We're not officially under cover yet. That's a plus in my book."
"Are you ever pessimistic about anything in your life?" I ask, genuinely interested in how he will respond.
"You should know the answer to that by now, Bells."
"Very true." I roll my eyes and look out the front window at a couple arguing. I perk up at this, "Oh! Got one. Couple over there, guy waving his hands in frustration at his girl."
Emmett spots the couple from across the street and laughs, "Too easy. They're arguing about money, she has a shopping bag in her hand and keeps flinging it around like she's ashamed it doesn't have more in it."
"Or maybe she's frustrated because he won't let her have her real birthday wish—a threesome with another very large, very hairy man." I look at the woman who has now shoved the bag into the man's chest and stormed off.
Emmett lowers the window a little as the couple gets closer to the car.
"Oh come on, Megan! Don't be like this. My next paycheck's coming soon I promise I'll get it for you then… Come back here!" The guy yells after her, desperate for her to turn around.
I sigh, accepting my loss. "Okay, fine. First point."
Again, Emmett and I fall into a routine like this for a few weeks. We get to the coffee shop every morning when it opens around six, and leave again for the night once they close up shop at nine.
We spend a few days each week coming up with a proposition for the CIA. It consists of hiring a specific number of agents who are in charge of all the stake outs. Coming up with salary, paid time off, and other provisions for this position fills most of our days.
I start praying every night before bed that this guy shows up quickly. At least when doing research we're in the comfort of our own home or office. Now we're in a stuffy car, unable to even get out and stretch.
Being stuck in a car all day, every day isn't what I had pictured when joining the CIA. But after some time being a field agent, I began to learn that you have to suffer through the mundane in order to get to the action. It was like this on every mission. You scout your target, watch, and wait. Once you find out enough information, the real shit starts.
The first day of August is a cool, overcast one. Chicago temperature is lowering, preparing for the winter. I revel in this; I prefer the cold.
I end my FaceTime call with Alice—she video called me to show me what Nox did to her couch pillows—when I see the time. It's only ten in the morning, we've still got about eight hours ahead of us. The café closes at six on Sundays, which I'm thankful for, but it's of no help at the beginning of our shift.
"I think I'm gonna take a nap." I push the seat back a little and pull my baseball cap down over my eyes. "Wake me up if you see something interesting." I mumble over to Emmett.
"Okay, so around Christmas time?"
"Ha-ha. Look at Mr. Optimistic, finally starting to crack." I smirk, closing my eyes.
"Hey I still got half a dozen donuts left. Lookin' like a good day to me."
I fall asleep quickly, already accustomed to the leather seats in this car. My dreams are filled with giant cats chasing after me. When they claw at me, instead of blood, cotton filling comes pouring out of me. I'm sewing myself up after a brutal attack, preparing for the next wave of killer cats, when Emmett jostles me awake.
"Bella! Bella! Wake the fuck up, it's Mr. Platinum!"
I jerk awake in my seat, highly alert and push my hat back up. I wildly look around look for the familiar head of platinum blonde hair. It is only after a few seconds that I spot him sitting at a table outside The Coffee Studio.
He looks so ordinary. Granted, he's drop dead gorgeous, but still, just ordinary. He's drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper like any other person. I also notice that he looks pretty young to have a son who is all grown up. I can't see his features in detail, being this far away, but from what I can see, he is nothing like I imagined. His face is too kind to be dealing with the likes of the people he deals with. It could just be the distance, though.
"Are you sure? This guy looks too vanilla." I squint my eyes trying to get a better look at him.
"Bella, it's him. I'm positive. It's the right hair color, right build. Everything checks out. Besides, these aren't cold blooded killers we're dealing with. Just the bunch of nerds who handle their money." Em scoffs.
I continue scrutinizing him for a few more minutes when he is suddenly joined by another man. I look over to see who is joining him.
Holy fuck balls, it's Adonis!
"Adonis? How do you know his name?"
Fuck, I said that out loud.
"Uh no, I don't," I try and fake a laugh as if to brush it off, "it's a possible alias I found in one of the files. Just guessing."
Emmett furrows his eyebrows at me, "What file was that in?"
"Guys, are you getting this?" Jasper's voice fills the car, coming from the Bluetooth speaker installed in it.
I jump at the chance to get out of this conversation, "Yes, yes. Mr. Platinum and his son are having fucking coffee like a bunch of normal people."
"Once they're done, you need to follow him. This could be our only chance for another few months."
Emmett and I wait, barely blinking as we stare out at Mr. Platinum and his son, Adonis. I briefly wonder what their real names are, having only ever called them by their made up nicknames.
"Fuck, I wish we had two cars. I didn't think they'd both show up here at the same time." Emmett growls.
"Well, let's follow Mr. Platinum. He's technically the one in charge for now, so he's the one with all the books. Maybe we'll get lucky and his son will come back. He's in town, I assume he won't be here for just a day."
As I say this to Emmett, I realize that Adonis has been in town much longer than a day. I ran into him at the museum almost three weeks ago. Why has he been here for so long?
The waitress from the café comes out to take Adonis' order. She laughs a little too hard and finds any excuse to touch him. Even from here, her flirting is blatantly obvious.
Hands off my man, blondie.
"Careful, home girl. That's one rabbit hole you definitely don't want to fall into." Emmett warns.
I whip my head towards Emmett, freaked out that I've voiced my thoughts, to my dismay, out loud again. There's no way I could ever come up with an excuse for that. But he's looking at the waitress, cautioning her as if she can hear him from in the car.
The two are left alone and talk for a quite some time in front of the café. After almost an hour, they stand and embrace before parting ways.
Emmett starts the car, preparing to follow Mr. Platinum.
It's just after lunch time so traffic isn't as heavy now with a lot of people having returned to work. This makes it easier to follow him without having some road-raged psycho blasting their horn at us for being slow.
I watch as Mr. Platinum turns the corner of the street, Emmett far enough behind so that he won't notice our car, but close enough to keep him in our sights.
We watch as he gets into a white, four door Jaguar. Even the car seems ordinary compared to the amount of money I am sure this guy makes.
"Fuck yes! Show time." Emmett steps on the gas as Mr. Platinum pulls onto the street.
We follow him for about twenty minutes before the roads turn into two lane streets. The houses start getting farther apart from each other the longer the car ride.
Em has a little trouble with staying far enough behind so that it doesn't look like we're following Mr. Platinum. It's the middle of the day and there aren't many cars that we are able to hide behind.
After another fifteen minutes, the white car suddenly takes a sharp right onto a private road. Emmett speeds up a little and passes where the car turned. He doubles back after a few minutes and we slow down once we reach the dirt road the car pulled into.
"I don't think you guys should keep following him, it's too bright outside." Jasper's voice comes back over the speaker.
"I know. We'll come back tonight when it's dark. We don't know what's up there." Emmett opens the maps app on his phone and drops a pin before driving back to the hotel.
Now that the adrenaline is gone, I have time to think about Adonis.
I should have known something so perfect was too good to be true. Of course he's a criminal. I stare out the window disappointedly.
"You okay?" Em looks over at me, concern ever present in his eyes.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I ask with my best attempt at nonchalance.
"I don't know. You're usually a lot more excited about these kinds of things. Our only lead is finally holding up and you're staring out the window, moping like Nox just tore up your favorite pillow."
"I'm not moping," I roll my eyes, "I'm just hungry. And I'm thinking about what's waiting for us up there."
"Good, I'm hungry, too. We'll find out the other stuff tonight."
Once it's dark out, Emmett and I prepare to go back out to where we left Mr. Platinum.
I'm wearing comfortable black running pants, a black zip up training jacket and my favorite pair of Nike's. I'm tucking my gun into my waistband when I hear Em knock at my door.
I open it to a serious looking Emmett, ready for tonight. I put on a dark baseball cap before following him out to the car.
The ride is silent until Emmett pulls up about a quarter of a mile away from the turn Mr. Platinum's white car took earlier that day.
"We're just gonna scout out the place tonight, see why he's there." Emmett whispers.
"Em, you know we're not there yet, right? You don't have to whisper." I don't know why, but even saying the words doesn't stop me from whispering this back to him.
"Right. Sorry, just practicing."
We put in our ear pieces and exit the car, walking the rest of the way.
Jasper starts talking immediately once I have activated the piece.
"I have back up on standby in case you guys run into any trouble. Say the word and they'll be there in three minutes. Be careful, guys. Emmett, I hope you guys didn't have Mexican today."
"You know my farts are silent but deadly, don't even play!" Emmett hisses.
"2011 Tijuana trip begs to differ." Jazz snorts.
"I think you're getting confused with your farts. You might blow our cover all the way from DC with those things."
"Would you two shut the hell up for five minutes? We're here." I demand, rolling my eyes and continuing up the private road.
Em and I choose to walk in the trees surrounding the road to avoid any exposure if a car comes. Em follows behind, making sure our backs our covered while I scout what's in front of us.
We walk for ten minutes before the trees start thinning and the road becomes paved. I stop just shy of the last row of trees.
Emmett crashes into my back, not aware that I stopped.
"How you ever made in into Special Forces is beyond me." I mutter.
"I'll have you know I was the best in my squad." He boasts quietly.
I ignore him and grab a thick branch that's in my way and hold it down so I have a clear line of sight.
It's too dark to make out much, but there are a few lights on, illuminating parts of the seemingly massive house.
"Hand me the night vision binoculars, please." Speaking low enough for just Emmett to hear.
"What? I thought you brought the bag with you? You're the one who packed it."
"What? Are you fucking kidding me?!" I seethe.
"Does it look like I'm fucking kidding?"
"Emmett, you had one job! I asked you to get it out of the car." I whisper-yell, jabbing him in the chest with a finger.
"Yeah you asked me to get it out, but you didn't ask me to bring it up. How am I supposed to know that's what you wanted?" He whisper-yells back to me.
"It's fucking common sense, Emmett! Why the fuck would I ask you to take it out and just leave it out side of the car?" I respond, not bothering to hide the anger and annoyance in my voice.
I hear Jazz cackling in my ear, finding his siblings' quiet argument amusing.
"Shut up, Jazz." I growl, "Emmett, go back to the car and get the bag. I'll wait here. And make sure you grab the bag and everything in it, not just the bag. Is that clear enough for you?"
"Yes, your Highness." Emmett mutters as he stomps back to the car.
I fume quietly, waiting for Emmett to return.
Twenty minutes later, he comes back with the bag and pulls out the night vision binoculars.
I silently turn back to the house, bringing the binoculars up to my eyes so I can get a better look.
I examine the perimeter of the house and find there are no guards on duty. Odd. Someone with this much of a need for secrecy should have some form of security. I look for cameras or any other sign of security tech.
"So far I only see two cameras on the front of the house, but no other sign of security. Let's circle around and see what's in the back."
Emmett nods and we walk along the edge of the tree line towards the back. It takes a few extra minutes, but it's better to be hidden for now. It's almost midnight, but I don't know the hours a crime boss' accountant works. He could be awake and roaming the house for all we know.
Once we reach the back side of the house, I pull down another thick branch to scout for any other signs of security Mr. Platinum might have.
"I don't see any cameras. This just keeps getting weirder. Why have cameras in the front but not the back?" I turn around and ask Emmett, feeling as though I have some of the puzzle pieces without the picture of what the puzzle itself is supposed to look like.
"Maybe there's reason. What's down there?" He points behind us, where it's too dark to see.
"Lake Michigan." Jasper answers, "I checked your location. The back of the house faces Lake Michigan. I assume that they rely on it as a form of protection for the back of the house."
Emmett taps my shoulder and points up to a tree about ten feet behind us.
"Fuck that was close." I whisper.
There's a camera facing in the direction of the lake attached to the top of the tree so it's unable to see us.
"If there is one, then there's probably more around here." Em states while looking cautiously about.
"Well we know there aren't any directly on the house, so we should get a little closer from this side." I say before walking towards the house.
I forget that I was holding onto a thick branch and let it go to as soon as I decided to get closer to the house. It snaps back and hits Emmett in the face with brutal force.
"Shit!" He swears.
"Ssshhh!" I smack him in the shoulder, reminding him we have to be quiet.
He looks down at me annoyed, bright red scratches all down the side of his face.
I whisper an apology before turning back around to walk towards the house. I try not to giggle along with Jasper, who is barely containing himself at this point.
"Don't tell me what happened. I'm having too much fun thinking of all the possibilities." Jazz snickers.
"Shut up, Jazz." Emmett grunts.
We make our way slowly towards the house until Emmett sticks his hand out in front of me, motioning to stop. We're about a hundred yards away now.
He nods his head towards the ground, indicating I should look a few feet in front of us. I have to wait a few seconds for my eyes to adjust before I understand what he's seeing.
There's a small, faint red line.
"Motion sensor." He murmurs.
I crouch down and use the binoculars to see into the house. There's a light coming from one of the windows.
The window shows half of an elaborate kitchen. There is a woman standing next to the stove, looking at a kettle, waiting for it to start steaming. She reaches up and opens a cabinet, taking out a mug. She's has a dark blue robe on, so I assume she's not a maid.
"Emmett I think they live here. This is their house." I whisper.
I hand him the binoculars so he can see into the house, he nods his head in agreeance after he appraises the woman.
"It makes sense. The Coffee Studio is a hole-in-the-wall café, mostly locals go there." He adds.
Suddenly the back door of the house opens, the light from within the house flooding the backyard.
"Shit." I stand up and we both sprint back to the edge of the trees, careful to keep our footsteps light.
Once we're well hidden behind the trees we look back to see who opened the door. It's Mr. Platinum, talking on a phone. He leisurely strolls through the garden as he converses for a few minutes. Once he is done with the phone call he walks back into the house.
We watch as light by light turns off until the house is shrouded in darkness. Em and I wait a few minutes before we start walking back towards the car.
"I can't believe they've been a two-hour flight away from us this whole time." Emmett gripes as we drive back to the hotel.
"I'll check who's name the house is under tomorrow morning. Then we'll see what Kate thinks is the next best step." Jasper says before leaving us to our own thoughts.
The whole drive back I think about any and all ways I can avoid seeing Adonis again. I fail to find any that seem rational and plausible. This mission is definitely going to be more difficult than I could have ever expected.
A/N:
A thank you to my wonderfully talented beta, Kenz.
We have a good dynamic here going, she's a full time mommy w/ a full time job and so she squeezes in edits where she can.
I have a pretty laid back schedule with night classes and work during the day, but I mainly do all my writing at work (weird, I know but that's the life of a receptionist) so I have about the next 10 chapters written already and as long as we both keep this pace and nothing crazy happens you should see updates every two weeks or so! :)
I'll update every chapter with an estimated time line, I'm thinking the next chapter might come sooner than two weeks!
**** IMPORTANT NOTE: **** Because of all my pennames on various fic sites, I'm trying to keep as many as I can the same to avoid confusion. I WILL BE CHANGING MY PEN NAME AT THE END OF THE WEEK to Trainwreque, so don't get confused if you follow me and see a different name when I update the new chapter. The only pennames you will ever see me use are Sancheaazy, Trainwreque, or 2blkcadillacs.