TWICE BURNED: DID TAMLIN ROSE'S FIANCEE RUN OFF WITH HIS CFO?

Vassa winced as she heard Rose's screams from her boss's office. Stumbling out, her boss threw a two fingered point at her. Uh oh.

Vassa stood and walked over, arms crossed. "What?"

"How did this happen?" Her Captain snarled, covering the bottom of the phone with his hand.

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Russel!" Then he jerked his head back to the phone. "No, sir, of course not, sir. Please, no-! I'll speak to her. I'll fix this." Vassa rolled her eyes. "Yes, very good sir. Alright." Her Captain slammed down the receiver with such vigor that the phone wobbled. He whirled on her. Vassa's arms were already up. "I'm doing what I can, but someone really didn't want them to be found."

"You have to do better."

"Then put someone else on the case. This isn't my specialty."

Her Captain sighed. He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Look, Russel. I'm sorry. These money types they just get me wound up."

"I know, sir."

"I know you do good work, and the department does too. Just… could you hurry it a little?"

Vassa gave him a look.

He sighed again. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Quicker work, the lower the quality drops. Go. Blow my mind. Ignore me. I'll deal with Mr. Rose."

"Bye." Vassa rolled her eyes and left the room.

As she reentered the bullpen her coworkers seemed infinitely more interested in their work than they had before Vassa went into the Captain's office. Vassa rolled her eyes again. She sat in her chair, staring again at the array of pictures of Lucien Vanserra. It all came back to Lucien Vanserra. Feyre Archeron had left once before, but it had been Lucien Vanserra who had found her. Lucien Vanserra who had brought her back. Now, here she was, leaving with Lucien Vanserra. Someone who's own history was littered with sordid details. Kicked out of his home at age nineteen after a scandalous love affair, he'd been taken in by his best friend. Even to the point of living with Tamlin Rose, where he currently resided. Now, after years of working side by side Tamlin, Lucien should have acquired enough money for a house. But, of course, perhaps he liked working and living with his best friend.

But with Feyre Archeron added to the mix, things began to get fuzzy. Why would a grown man want to live with his two best friends who were in a relationship?

The answer, of course, was one of two things: either, because he couldn't leave, or he and Tamlin were a lot closer than they seemed on paper. And after Feyre's first runaway attempt, Vassa was willing to guess that Lucien Vanserra had traded one hostile relationship for another. It must have finally come to a head, and so Lucien and Feyre had flown ship.

The issue was proof. How the fuck could she prove any of this? And how was she going to tell Tamlin Rose to kindly eat his dick. She'd have to do some investigating. Some face to face interviews.

Ugh, Vassa hated interviews. The things she did for the truth.

"What's up?" Amren asked. Azriel was already pulling up the picture of Amarantha to line the table, his audio clip that he'd overheard at the ready. She stood on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder.

"Sit down, Rhys'll be here soon." Azriel told her. Lucien and Feyre were already sitting in their seats. Lucien was moping.

"I told you, I don't want to be involved anymore!" Lucien grumbled.

Feyre kicked him gently in the leg. "We're in this together."

"I heard there's an issue!" Mor and Cassian ran into the room, breathing heavily.

"What? Rhys isn't even here!" Cassian heaved.

"Sit down, Cass. He'll be here soon. He has to finish up a few things."

"So what's the Code Red?" Mor asked as she joined the others. She glanced down at the photo of Amarantha Scarlett. "Oh," she said slowly. Mor sneered, her lips pulled back from her teeth. "Her. What's she got to do with this?"

"Sorry! Sorry! I'm here," Rhys shouted. He ran over, huffing and puffing. He pulled off a suit jacket as he did, throwing it over Cass's head as he jogged over to his chair. "Roll it, Az."

"Yes, sir," Az teased. "All right, raise your hand, who knows her?"

Everyone's hands went up. Az's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Yes, I know everyone hates her, but who knows her?"

Amren, Mor, and Feyre's hands went down.

"Okay, so." Azriel tapped started the presentation. Pictures and bullet points flew across the tabletop Cass reached out to touch the screen and Lucien slapped at his hands. "Amarantha Scarlett. She's one of the best fixer on this side of the Atlantic."

"And she doesn't work for you?" Lucien snarled.

Rhys' head shot up. His eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Fixers… that what you guys do, right?"

Rhys was out of his chair before he knew it. Lucien flinched slightly. Cass grabbed Rhys from the back. "Don't ever compare us to her."

"Really?" Lucien must have been scared out of his mind. His breathing was fast. His pupils dilated in fear. His knuckles were white on the tabletop. But he kept talking anyway. He never knew when to shut up, did he? "What's the difference-?"

"Shut up," Cass warned. "We're nothing like Scarlett. The bitch is a sadist."

"We help people," Rhys insisted. "We don't hurt them like that!"

"Well…" Amren shrugged. "I mean, I do."

Lucien swallowed thickly. Feyre's hand was on his arm, her nails digging into his arm. "They're helping us, Lucien." Lucien leaned back in his chair slowly. Rhys sat back down also, but neither relaxed.

"The difference is," Azriel said slowly, bringing everyone's attention back to the matter at hand, "what they do. A fixer will stop at nothing to achieve their end goal. They use money, intimidation, whatever they can get their hands on. A fixer will con an honest man."

Everyone turned to look at Amren, who shrugged. "He's right, essentially. We're, you know, like muscle, but worse."

"We?" Feyre squeaked. "I thought-!"

Amren smiled in a way that was much closer to baring her teeth than anything else. "I'm nothing like Amarantha, if that's what you're worried about." Somehow Feyre was sure that rest of that sentence would have been "I'm worse." She shivered.

"Amarantha is extremely resourceful and very charismatic, making her perfect at intimidation. She has a four strict routines that she decides randomly to follow, from home to work to home again. She has plenty of her own cops on the take, and good relations with other powerful CEOs in Subburg. Past life is mainly unknown, its practically as if she just… appeared twelve years ago. Now, she works for Hybern and has since she graduated school. She mainly handles major CEOs, and evaluates if a company is worth the risk to invest in. However, she wasn't mention in any paperwork during the indictment, so we can assume that Hybern isn't interested in rewarding her work."

"We can use that," Rhys mused, watching the surveillance pictures that Azriel had taken of her scroll by. "Yes… Hybern doesn't trust her. We know she neither likes nor trusts him."

"What? Why? How do we know that?" Lucien asked. Rhys exchanged another one of those insufferable looks with his crew. "Mother, I hate when you guys do that."

"Rhys knows Amarantha…" Mor chose her next words carefully, "personally."

"Knows…. As in knows, knows?" Feyre asked. Rhys grimaced but nodded. "That's bad right…? That means that you can't run a con on her."

"Yes, it does," Azriel said.

"Hopefully, that won't matter," Rhys added.

"What do you mean, hopefully?" Lucien asked acerbically. "You can do this, right? Because if she finds out we're all going to prison for a very long time."

"Lucien, a little faith please?" Rhys asked exasperated. "I know you don't trust any of us, but we are good at what we do."

"In fact, I believe that's one of the reasons you hate us," Mor sniped.

Lucien scowled and slumped his shoulders slightly. Wear showed in his face. Lines around his eyes and lips were more pronounced now. He hadn't been eating well since they'd begun the con. He was constantly stir-crazy, and he was driving Feyre herself mad with his restless energy.

For someone who was used to being micromanaged, Lucien was suddenly unable to stay still.

"What I meant to say, Lucien, is that it is unlikely that we'll need to run a con on her. If we do, however, it can't be one of us." Rhys waved to his crew.

"So… what? You'll subcontract?" Lucien asked bitterly.

Rhys gave Lucien a rueful smile. "Depends, how much do you and Feyre cost?"

Feyre was shocked. For her, time felt like it had stopped. Her belly had become lead and her mouth went dry. To help Rhys' crew rob Tamlin was one thing, but to con someone? What they were doing with Detective Russel was scary enough, at least Feyre wouldn't actually have to speak to her, just text. But to actually lie to someone… to con them, Feyre wasn't sure that she could.

"Ohhh no. No. No, no, no, no!" Lucien said, backing away from the table. "No, no, no, no."

"Lucien-" Rhys sighed, as if he'd expected Lucien to freak out.

"You are not turning us into thieves!"

"Lucien-!" But Lucien wouldn't listen.

"You got yourselves into this, and you don't have a back-up plan? I can't believe you, Rhysand. This is all your fault-!"

"Lucien!" Rhys snapped. "You are our back-up plan. Look, I'm not any happier than you about this, but don't tell me that you can't do it, because we both know that you're as good a con as anyone."

Lucien swallowed thickly. His eyes were shiny with tears of frustration.

"Lucien? What is he talking about?" Feyre asked.

Lucien snorted, glancing down at her. "You really have no idea what I did, do you Feyre?"

Fear rose within Feyre. "What do you mean?"

Rhys kept his eyes on Lucien who glared back. "Lucien here is adept at psychological manipulation. It's how Tamlin got half the contracts he did. What Lucien used to do might not be illegal on paper, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to con someone into doing what he wants." Rhys turned that intense violet gaze on Feyre. "Don't worry, Feyre darling, worse comes to worse we need some help, it won't just be you we ask."

Lucien sat back down. His hands trembled slightly and he tightened them into fists and placed them in his lap.

"Trust us," Mor said kindly, "we know what we're doing."

"Of course, we trust you," Feyre said, nudging Lucien who huffed in a way that was the closest to an agreement possible. "We do, we're just… I can't go back." Feyre whispered.

The Court of Dreams exchanged another inscrutable look. They knew that pain. They knew that worry. They knew what they risked.

Mor reached out and put an arm around Feyre. "We know," she whispered. "And we'll do anything to keep that from happening. Anything."

Azriel cleared his throat. "So, we have a plan? Continue with the con, Amarantha shouldn't get in the way if we're careful, but if she does…"

Rhys nodded. Lucien met his gaze stubbornly, mouth in a thin line. "We'll be ready."

"So, a check-in. Mor? Cass?"

"Hybern's hooked," Mor said stretching. "Eating from my hand like a puppy dog."

"I hope you're being metaphorical, because ew," Amren said and Mor rolled her eyes at her.

"And you, Cuz?" Mor asked Rhys. "All good?"

"Everything's set." Rhys affirmed.

Az nodded, chewing on a lip. "Well, if both of you are ready, I think it's time that we put the last half of our plan into action. Feyre sends the final message to Detective Russel to look into Tamlin's financials, Mor gets Hybern across the border, and we'll be set."

"Tonight, then." Rhys said.

"Tonight," the Crew agreed.

Feyre let out a shaky breath. Tonight they would lay the bait, and then tomorrow Detective Russel would take down Spring Consolidated and Hybern Holdings…. Soon, all of this would be over.

Azriel slid a phone over to her. "Well, Feyre, let's get his ball rolling."

I need proof, your word that Spring is money-laundering for Hybern Holdings isn't enough. Vassa waited for the response from her little birdie. The person on the other side of the line was convinced that Tamlin Rose was money-laundering, but without proof, Vassa couldn't get a warrant to look at anything. She needed more, but trace wouldn't work on the burner phone.

Vassa looked up at Tamlin Rose's assistant. Alis Summer said the name on her desk. Vassa put on her best smile. "Hi Ms. Summer, is Mr. Rose in?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

Vassa kept her smile frozen on her face. "I'm with the police, Ma'am."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked again.

Now Vassa was getting annoyed. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Just tell him I'm here. He knows why. Detective Vassa Russel."

"No appointment, no seeing Mr. Rose."

Vassa scowled. "You're going to regret this."

"Are you threatening me? I'm going to call security-" Summer began but Vassa ignored her. She called the number that Rose had given her.

It rung three times before he picked up. His gruff voice short over the phone. "What?"

"Hey, it's Detective Russel-"

"I know. Did you find her?"

"Not yet." No questions about Lucien, huh? "Listen-"

"Then why are you calling?"

"Mr. Rose, I'm here at your office right now. I want to check the offices-"

"Then do it."

"Yours also, just to take a look around."

"… Why?"

"Are you the one on this case, or am I, Mr. Rose?" Vassa asked. She was beginning to lose her patience. She wanted to throw a 'fuck' into her sentences so badly, but she did like being employed.

Tamlin Rose was quiet.

"Would you please tell your secretary to let me into your office?" Vassa asked shortly.

"Fine."

Vassa hung up on him. She waited, tapping her foot impatiently. Alis watched her, eyes narrowed. A light blinked on her phone and she picked it up.

"Yes, sir? …. yes, sir. Right away, sir." She hung up. Alis took a piece of paper out and signed it with a flourish and a stamp.

"This is an all-access pass to the offices of Mr. Rose, Miss Archeron, and Mr. Vanserra." Alis said handing it to Vassa.

Vassa gave her a slithery smile as she took the slip of paper from Alis. "Thank you kindly." She slipped the paper into her pocket, and strode into Rose's office.

Tamlin Rose jumped, even though he knew she was coming in. He was on the phone, running a hand through his meticulously combed back hair. "-no, I don't want to-" Tamlin Rose made a frustrated noise. He gave Vassa a 'wait a moment' gesture. Vassa took a look around. There was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a pretty impersonal office, cabinets, a computer, etc. She looked for pictures. Most of the office was covered in art—sculptures on the counters, paintings on the walls. Expensive paintings too, no Dogs Playing Poker here. "I get it. You're angry. … Yes well, I would love to ask him also, but unfortunately when my fiancee went to visit her family she took-. … No. … No, I understand. … Take a fucking hint, why don't you? … No. No. … … … Yes. Okay. Tonight. Yeah. Yeah. Bye." Rose turned to Vassa. "Sorry. How are you, Detective Russel?"

Vassa walked over to his desk and sat on the edge, ignoring the way that Rose's eyes drew up her legs. Lovely, his fiancee was supposedly missing and he was trying to look up Vassa's skirt. "Fine." She glanced down at the pictures on his desk, which were the only personal effects in the room. One picture of Tamlin and Feyre, and one with all three of them: Tamlin, Feyre, and Lucien.

Vassa wanted to scowl, but she pasted a smile on her face instead. "I have a couple questions if you don't mind."

"And this couldn't be done over the phone?"

"Well," Vassa winked at him. It made her skin crawl. Rose leaned back in his chair, hands clasped over his stomach. "I wanted to see if you were lying."

Rose frowned. Vassa had to get him on her side. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She gave him a winning smile. There was a flicker in Rose's eyes, but then he smiled back. He was lying. "You said that Feyre went, that first time, to visit her family."

"Uh huh."

"And you didn't know. They'd been estranged, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you have administrative passwords?"

"What?"

"It's your company. Do you have administrator passwords? I want to enter Miss Archeron's computer, and I need an admin password. Do you have one?"

"Shouldn't you be… talking to people? Her family? Tracking financials."

"Feyre got away from you-"

"Ran away."

Vassa gave him a twinkling smile. "Of course. Anyway," she waved a hand flippantly. "She ran away once, I'm not sure if she'll use the same way twice."

"Why? She's a frivolous, excitable girl-"

Vassa looked up at Rose through her lashes. "Mr. Rose, do you want me to find your fiancee, or do you want to argue?"

Tamlin Rose swallowed thickly.

"Your passwords?" Vassa held out her hand.

Tamlin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flicked it open in quick, deliberate motions. He pulled out a post it note. "The password is this number, but backwards. User is my username."

Vassa took the page from him. "Thanks. Could I use your computer for a second?"

Tamlin closed something on his desktop. "All yours. Don't go snooping, please."

"Of course not, Mr. Rose. Besides, that's not my job at all. Isn't it?" Fucker.

Tamlin Rose gave Vassa a quick, fake smile. He turned on his heel and cleared out, voice raised. "Alis!"

"Yes, Mr. Rose!" Vassa could hear Alis cry before the door swung shut.

Vassa ignored them. Tamlin Rose's background was a picture of Feyre Archeorn and him. Both of them perfectly styled. The smiling, glittering couple that the tabloids were obsessed with. Vassa scowled. Call her a pessimist, but no one was that happy. That perfect. Not ever.

Vassa pulled out her phone. A new text message from her little birdie.

The deal will go down tomorrow evening.

That's not enough.

Vassa went to Tamlin Rose's email, and searched Feyre Archeron's name. She copied all of the emails and sent them from his Outlook to a burner account of hers. Then she opened her account, counted all of them as read, and then closed hers. She switched to Feyre's account, and did the same.

I have testimony from a whistle blower.

Vassa rolled her eyes. She was about to text the Birdie the same thing but her phone buzzed again.

The court will believe him.

His name wouldn't happen to be Lucien, would it?

Her birdie went silent. Vassa looked through Feyre's emails to Lucien. Everything was either formal or overly teasing, but no proof. No mentions of running away. Nothing. She looked at Feyre's calendar. No lunch meetings were written down there. Feyre was written for the last couple weeks to be working from home. Vassa looked at the year and searched for all of her days that she was working from home.

One… two… three…

Fuck. Either Feyre Archeron was extremely anti-social, or there was some reason that she was staying at home for seventy percent of her workdays the past year.

Vassa needed to check Lucien Vanserra's calendar. If any of their days from home coincided…. Well. Vassa would need to do a little more digging. Possibly borrow some money from petty cash at the department. Maybe have a conversation with Alis Summer after hours.

"Ms. Summer, who is the secretary for Miss Archeron and Mr. Vanserra?"

Alis Summer didn't look up from her computer. "I am, Miss."

"Detective. Detective Russel."

Summer pursed her lips, but she didn't move her gaze from her computer. "I see."

"Isn't that a lot of work?"

"It pays well, Detective."

"How did Feyre seem before she disappeared? Did she ask you to cover her meetings?"

"She seemed… happy." Vassa raised an eyebrow at that pause. Alis's fingers froze. "And no. I had to scramble to cover their meetings."

"Their meetings?"

"Why yes, Mr. Vanserra also."

"And did he seem happy?"

Alis snorted. She glanced up at Vassa who headed out of Tamlin's office and leaned over onto Alis's desk. "You clearly don't know Mr. Vanserra, then. He's not a very cheerful person."

Vassa nodded, letting that sentence settle between them. "But was he happy?"

"I thought so," Alis said, softly. "Sometimes."

"This thing, them joyriding together, that seem likely to you?"

"Of course." Alis's answer was too fast to be true, and she didn't make eye contact. Vassa leaned closer.

"Ms. Summer, I don't care about anything else. I just want to know that Lucien Vanserra and Feyre Archeron are safe. That is my job."

"I'm sure they're safe, wherever they are."

Vassa cocked her head. Safe wherever they were, huh? Vassa thought that, too. But did that mean they weren't safe here?

Vassa's phone buzzed. Vassa took it out.

And if it was?

Interesting. Vassa smiled.

I'll need a face-to-face. Maybe some paperwork.

No paperwork.

"I'm sure they are, too." Vassa checked a message from her Captain. God, more about that Interpol agent. She'd already promised that she'd work with him. Fuck this. She'd talk with him about that later. "Their offices are through there?"

"Yeah."

Vassa stood. She slid a business card under Alis's mouse-pad. "If you think of anything else. … Or feel a little flighty and frivolous, I'm here."

Alis pocketed the business card in a smooth motion. "Thanks, but I've got people counting on me."

Vassa nodded. Sometimes it was like that. "In that case, I only wish you the best." Vassa headed out to Lucien's office first. There was something she wanted to check.

1 AM. My apartment. Come unarmed.

Vassa waited for the buzz as she searched Lucien's office. Two hours later, completely exhausted, and a little dusty, she got her answer.

See you there

Alfred Hybern was having a good day. He was swimming in dough from a big payout at work. He was looking good, and finally he and Andromache could meet up.

She was waiting for him at their club. "Alfie!"

"Andy, how are you, darling?" Alfred smiled and kissed Andromache on each cheek. He might have thought she was a hot piece of ass, but he'd be a gentleman about it. Women liked the gentlemanly type, and Hybern was used to waiting for the payout. Delayed gratification, it never failed him.

"Oh, Alfie," Andromache practically melded with him, she was so close. Alfred liked the way her body felt against his. He put an arm on her back. He smiled as he felt what wasn't there. Nice. Delayed gratification, time to cash out. "You're positively evil."

"Aren't I just?"

Andromache winked. Her mouth was close to his ear, he could feel her breath on his neck. "Ready for some fun?"

And fun they had, first came the drinks, then came the drugs, and of course, the dancing. The sliding of Andromache's body against his. Her breath in his ear. Her lips on his neck as she gums a line. Cauldron, that feeling of her and him. It was electric. It was the high in and of itself.

He barely noticed when Devlon came up to her. They were sitting at a table. Hybern's wasted self ordered some chicken wings, and Andy was devouring them. Cauldron, he loved a girl who could eat.

"Hey Andy," Devlon sat next to her. He wound up against her and she shifted away. Alfred tried not to laugh. Devlon would get nothing from her. "You here?"

"Sober 'nuff," Andy mumbled as she licked hot sauce off of her fingers. Alfred could just imagine the feeling of those spicy lips on his-

"Well sober the fuck up. Orders came down."

Andy raised an eyebrow. "You got it?"

Devlon shifted and pulled out three plastic-wrapped bags of white. "Candy from a baby."

"Fuck yeah. Right, tomorrow morning, we'll head down. Be there by five PM. I'll keep it on me 'til then."

"And the deposit?" Devlon hissed, shooting a glance at Hybern. Alfred pretended to be absorbed in his chicken wings.

Andy scowled. "I'll do it."

"We need to pay it in by midnight, or they'll come for us."

"I'll get it. Take a pill. After this sell, we'll never need to work again." Andy winked at him. "Have a little fun."

Devlon glanced at Andy and then at Hybern again. "That's a lot of money, love." Andy scowled at him, but when Devlon looked back at her she smiled. Hybern snorted.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I'm the one who set this up. I'm the one who found the dumbass client. I'm the one who's going to make us rich. So thank you, but I'll be fine," Andy snarled. She took the three packets from Devlon.

Devlon's nostrils flared. "Fine. Tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow," Andy smiled and Devlon huffed as he stormed away.

"What's up?" Alfred asked, nodding to the packets.

Andromache shifted herself to hide the drugs. "I'm thinking… jalapeno poppers, what about you?" Andy asked with a wink.

"Andy, you know you can tell me anything. Is Devlon… you know?"

"Oh, please, him? He's a patsy. Nothing like that Scarlett of yours."

Scarlett? Who? Amarantha? "How do you know Amaratha?"

Andy snorted. "Know her? I don't know her. I've heard of her. Fuck me, wouldn't want to get on her bad side. Or good side." Andy downed a shot. "I'll stay happily in anonymity, thank you."

Hmm… perhaps he aught to give Amarantha a raise.

"Devlon's an idiot for not trusting you."

"Definitely. I mean, I'm the one with the contact. I'm the one with the plan. And who the fuck does he think he is, telling me around? You know, I got him in the Ni-I mean… I got him this job, you know." Andy shook her head. She knocked back another drink. Her blonde hair was coming undone from its up-do. "I'm smart, but no one else sees that. Just a pretty fucking face."

Smart, huh? Alfred had no need for smart. Pretty, yes. But smart…

"How smart?"

Andy raised an eyebrow and pounded another shot. She lowered her voice, leaning close for a perfect shot down her shirt. "I'm flipping these three bags of coke for five hundred percent," she whispered. "And four hundred of that percent is going down my dress, if you know what I mean."

So Andromache Nyxton had little more than a pretty face. "That's impossible." Five hundred percent? She had to be screwing with him.

"It is in this state, but one state over, plenty of ripe rich asshole for the picking." Andy reached up and shook her hair out. She leaned back against her seat, feet out of her shoes and curled up under her. "I've got this bitch on the hook, she's wants to be the Big Fish over in Richville, but she needs the product. I tell her we got pure shit, goes for twenty grand, we tell them it goes for ninety, they give us a hundred,"

"Expenses."

"Exactly. And then I've got sixty grand just for me and Dev."

Sixty grand… "For that asshole? Andy, hon, he doesn't deserve that."

"Sure doesn't. But he works with the… them. He got me the drugs. I get him the payment for right now, and then tomorrow I get the payment for me."

"Twenty grand. How are you going to get twenty g's before midnight?" Alfred looked down Andy, who puffed out her chest like a preening peacock. She wanted him so bad.

"I'm resourceful," Andy mumbled. She glanced at her watch. "Look, if I want to meet the deadline, I gotta fly. Gotta go… rob a bank."

"Wait," Alfred grabbed her wrist. Andy turned around. Her pupils dilated, her breath coming quick. Those three packets impressively slipped into the nothing of her dress. "what if I got you the money?"

Andy froze. "What?"

"The money. I can get it to you, but I want a cut."

"Listen I can't just-"

"Andy, trust me. The two of us? We do it together. How were you planning on getting out of Prythian anyway?"

"Car, why?"

"Nah, that'll never pass through the border. But I've got my own plane. I'll go down, do the hand-off."

"You're serious?"

"Sure, why not? But… I'll want a cut."

Andy laughed and shook her head. "I'd wouldn't expect any less." She frowned as she sat back down. "And you'll be able to get off work?"
"Of course, I'll just call in, say I'm taking the plane down-"

"Don't tell Scarlett!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't trust her, Alfie. I don't like her. And I don't think she likes you either." Alfred wasn't an idiot. He knew that Amarantha Scarlett didn't like him much, not a lot of people did. But he still trusted her. He paid her, didn't he? Andy ran a finger up Alfred's arm. "I like you, Alfie. But I don't want Amarantha Scarlett anywhere near me. I-We only do this if you don't tell Scarlett. Please, Alfie."

A person could do a lot with thirty grand. "Fine, but my price is sixty percent of the profits."

"Fine." Andy sighed and shrugged. "You are doing the heavy lifting anyway. Just, remember, no testing the product. If you do-"

"I promise, Andy." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "You can trust me."

"I do," Andy smiled.

Alfred put out a hand. "The product?"

Andy looked down at her breasts (which were probably hiding the packets of drugs) and then up at Alfred. "Where are you getting the money from?"

Alfred patted his chest. Andy sighed with a laugh and fell against him. "Of course! I'm sorry, love. I just… it's been a long day, you know."

"Of course."

Andy took the product out of her… wherever she'd hidden it and placed it in his hand under the table. Twenty thousand dollars worth of product in his hands. He put them into his pockets. "Here, Andy." He pulled out his wallet. He only had a thousand on him now, but he could get the rest if he could hit an ATM. Or two. Maybe two. "I'll need to go get some more."

"Are you sure about this Alfie? These are not people you want to cross!"

"Then I won't cross them. They're getting their money, aren't they?"

"I suppose."

"Then trust me, Andy. Your plan is perfect, everything is going to be fine."

"Oh, thank you, Alfie!" Andy kissed him then, her body practically melding into his. She jumped when her phone buzzed. "Oh dear, time is flying. We really do have to book."

"Right." A little dizzy from the kiss Alfred let Andromache rise first. "After you." Andromache hooked her arm through his and they left together.

Feyre shifted from foot to foot nervously. Rhys's heart hurt to see her scared. She brushed her fingers, pulling a lock of chocolate hair behind her ears. Rhys waiting in the shadows, watching as Lucien came up from behind her. He tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped. Neither of them seemed aware that he was there. Lucien whispered something to Feyre and the tension went out of her shoulders.

Rhys wouldn't lie to himself, even if he did to everyone else: he was jealous of Lucien Vanserra. Not, of course, of the abuse and pain Lucien had gone through, but rather the way he could get close to Feyre. The way he, right now even, was next to her, whispering to her, sharing secrets and softness.

Feyre was beautiful and smart and creative and lovely, and yes, Rhys was head over heels for her. He couldn't help himself. When he'd first seen her by Tamlin's side it had been a press conference. Someone had made an offensive comment and in five words she'd torn him to shreds.

Rhysand had fallen in love with her in that moment. Everyone else had come later. At first it was a joke, a silly crush his gang teased him about. Mor especially had loved it: "the thief has had his heart stolen." Then she'd come to his restaurant one day, exhausted and frazzled. She'd ordered a sandwich to go: BLT, a pickle, and home fries.

Rhys had been sitting at a table with Azriel, working on finances. She'd brushed by him and his files had fallen to the floor. Even though she'd been busy and exhausted, she'd apologized and had been on her knees before he knew it, straightening up the papers.

They'd started talking. She'd sat next to them, and had eaten her lunch. Rhys hadn't laughed so hard in years.

Then he'd seen the bruises that extended up her arm. Ovular bruises, from new purpley-blue to old yellowy-green. The same bruises Rhys occasionally saw coloring Lucien's brown wrists, or on his shoulders, by the side of his neck. Rhys had gone cold.

He'd mentioned it offhandedly, that they helped people. That they could help her. But she'd noted it. Then, a week later she'd come back, and met with Rhys and told him everything. Rhys had begun to work on her. He didn't like thinking that he was manipulating her, conning her, but he knew it was true.

He didn't lie to himself.

He'd promised her a safe home whenever she needed it, to just say the word and they would be there for her.

"Okay," Feyre had said, "but I take Lucien Vanserra with me. You know him?"

Did Rhys know him? Yes, Rhys knew him. Rhys knew he could play with the best of them. He was conniving and ruthless. Just the type of person Rhys was. Just the type of person Rhys hated going up against (just as much as he loved it).

"I do," Rhys had said.

"And?"

Rhys had forced a smile onto his face. He lied to everyone except himself, but when it came to Feyre lying was getting harder and harder. As Amren had said earlier that day, him dancing around and grinning giddily "I don't think I like you in love." Rhys was starting to think that she was right.

But for the time being, he could still lie to her, so he took what he could get: "The more, the merrier."

Now, he cleared his throat. "Hi." Feyre and Lucien jumped. Rhys winced internally, he probably shouldn't have snuck up on survivors.

"Don't-do that," Lucien hissed.

"Sorry. You ready, Lucien?"

"I want to go," Feyre insisted.

"No," Lucien said.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Feyre snapped.

Lucien crossed his arms. "Feyre, you know I don't want to-!"

"I want to go with you!"

"Tell her why she can't. Why it can only be me!" Lucien demanded.

But Rhys didn't want to, because Feyre would sell the bit. It was all about the timing. But he didn't want her in there with Vassa either. Right now, Vassa just thought that Lucien, perhaps Feyre from all those rumors, were there. But Vassa had no reason to be sure about Feyre, and Rhys would rather her not burn her on this. Lucien he could spare, Feyre…

But he couldn't tell her no.

Rhys nodded.

"What fucking good are you?" Lucien snarled.

"Are you ready?" Rhys repeated.

"I am," Lucien said.

"Then, let's go." Rhys held out the harness. Lucien looked uneasy at the thought but he got into the harness. He let Rhys tighten him up. "I won't drop you. Promise," Rhys said.

Lucien did not find that funny.

"Just take a step backwards. Like rock-climbing."

"I've never gone rock-climbing," Lucien grumbled.

"Aw, come on foxboy, we both know that isn't true," Rhys said.

Lucien said nothing, but began walking down the wall with practiced hands. "When did he go rock-climbing?" Feyre asked confused.

"I've known Lucien a good deal longer than you have, Feyre darling." Rhys tugged on the harness and felt it loose. He pulled up the rope, resetting the tension-pulleys, and handed the harness to Feyre. "For you, my dear."

"Why thank you ever so," Feyre replied. She pulled up the harness and tightened it around her legs and chest.

"Come here." Rhys ran his fingers between the harness and Feyre, checking to make sure she was snug. "Good." He clipped the rope to Feyre, and tightened his grip on the pulleys. "Trust me, okay?"

Feyre glanced up at him from where she hung off the roof. "Of course." Feyre let go, and began her decent down to Vassa Russel's balcony.

When she was safely with two feet on the ground, Rhys wound up the gear, slung it over his back, and free-climbed down. When his feet hit the balcony he was surprised to see Lucien kneeling by the lock on the door to Vassa's apartment.

"When did you go rock-climbing?" Feyre demanded of him. Lucien ignored her.

"Really?" Rhys asked.

"I'm bored. Amren's teaching me a few things."

"Move, I'll get it faster." He'd have to talk to her. Couldn't have Lucien Vanserra becoming the world's next best international art thief.

Huh… there was an idea.

Bad Rhysand, not during the con.

Rhys pulled his picks out of his pocket and made quick work of the shoddy lock. He opened the door, and raised a finger to his lips. Feyre nodded. Lucien scowled. Rhys let the door swing open and Lucien and Feyre tiptoed in. He left the door open and pulled out a scope so he could watch and listen. He started his recording device.

Rhys checked his watch. Twelve fifty-eight. Two minutes to spare.

"Two minutes to spare," Detective Russel's voice came. "Not bad."

"Thanks," Lucien's voice was rough. "Now you see me. That good enough?"

"Why'd you run?" Vassa asked.

That… wasn't how this night was supposed to go. Rhys took out his phone. 411

:thumbs up:

"Excuse me?" Rhys could see Lucien frown, his arms crossed over his chest. Come on, Fox Boy… make me proud…

"Why'd you run? Listen, I don't work for no one. Not anybody. Rose doesn't have anything on me."

An honest woman. That was why they'd chosen her.

Uh oh.

She's the head of the missing persons case?

Yeah. Sorry R

It's okay. I can work with that.

Yeah?

Yeah. He could work with that. Lucien could too, he was smart enough.

"It's… more complicated than that."

"Is he hurting you?"

Lucien froze. "Excuse me?"

"You used to be his CFO, Lucien. You want me to arrest him for financial crimes. I'm a fucking detective, Lucien Vanserra." Rhys snorted, he liked her. "I know Feyre's probably back there too. My only question is why now? Did he hurt you? Either of you?"

"Lucien..." Feyre's voice. Here we go.

Az, bro, im going to kill you

I said sorry!

"Hello Feyre. Nice to see you finally," Vassa said.

"So will you do it?"

"I told you, to get a warrant you'll need real cause. Not a single investigation for precedence, thanks in no part to you. No red flags in his financials. Word from his former CFO isn't enough."

"But it was my job to keep this from him, we ran because if he finds us, he'll kill us," Feyre snapped. "You have no idea what we've done for him-"

"You're running, I get it. You're scared. I get that, too." Vassa's voice was soft, gentle. She was playing them. They had to get out of here as fast as possible. Rhys didn't like this. "You can trust me."

"No. We can't. Fey, we should go."

"Yeah."

"Wait-!"

"Look, if you can't help us-"

"I can. Listen to me, I just want the truth." But Lucien and Feyre were halfway to the door. "I believe you!"

Feyre froze. "Feyre, come on," Lucien hissed. He linked his fingers through her, trying to tug her with him. "We should go."

"Just help me understand!"

Feyre turned around. Lucien's eyes were wide. "Feyre, don't-"

"He's not working alone."

"Feyre! We can't trust her!"

"Watch Hybern-!" Lucien tugged on Feyre's arm and dragged her out of the room. Rhys waited one second to listen to Vassa swear and then shouldered his bag and climbed back down to the ground floor to meet them. He pulled up his hood. Vassa was watching him go, he knew. Probably taking pictures too, for evidence.

"Good enough?" Lucien asked as they met by the car.

"It'll have to be. Get in."

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Alfred looked up as the door to his home slammed open. Amarantha Scarlett strode into the room, red hair flying behind her. "Good morning, Amarantha."

"It's four AM."

"So, the fuck, what?"

"Listen, asshole. Who keeps you safe? Keeps you from getting caught?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "You do." But he didn't like it. She was the one who had kept him out of jail when the government had indicted him for embezzlement. She was the one who cleaned up every dead hooker in his closet. Every DUI.

"You have to stop seeing your girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Your fuck-buddy, call her what you like." Amarantha crossed her arms over her chest.

"What? Why?"

Amarantha pulled out a phone from her back pocket. She unlocked it and fiddled around before tossing it over to him. "She's conning you. Her name is Morrigan Moon. She's a con woman, Alfred."

"No… no… she works for the Nightmare Court. She's a mule, that's it." This didn't make any sense. Alfred flipped through the pictures. The blonde woman in them was clearly Andy and she was talking to a man, a dark skinned man in a sharp suit with violet eyes. The man looked familiar… But he'd seen the tattoo… he'd seen it. Devlon… he was a member. Andy was scared of them.

"Her father runs the Nightmare Court but she doesn't work for them, she works with her cousin: Rhysand."

Rhysand… Alfred knew that name. Rhysand-

Amarantha's ex. A few years ago… she'd been dating a gangbanger named Rhysand-

"You mean your ex?"

Amarantha rolled her eyes. She sat on the edge of Alfred's bed. "Yes. Who, if you remember, is a conman."

"But Andy-"

"There is no Andromache Nyxton! Her name is Morrigan, Alfred. She's conning you. What the fuck is she trying to sell you, Alfred? You're rich."

"Not-she's not trying to sell me anything. She's just-"

"What is that?" Amarantha interrupted him, staring at the chair that he'd flung his suit jacket over before collapsing into bed. On it he'd set the three packets of cocaine. Amarantha rose, striding over to the chair. "What is this?"

"It's nothing. It-"

"Tell me someone snuck in here and just set them on the chair."

"Amarantha, it's nothing."

"It looks like enough drugs to get you caught on possession with intent to sell." Amarantha snarled at him. "I keep you safe, Hybern, and in return you have to tell me the truth."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "It's nothing-"

"Why do you have enough coke in your house to kill a herd of elephants?"

"Andy gave it-"

"Morrigan gave it to you?" She demanded.

Morrigan. She was Morrigan. She was a con-woman. But… maybe Andy was the real person and Morrigan-

No. No…

God, Alfred was so stupid. He'd paid her twenty grand for those drugs! He was going to bring them across state-lines! If he'd gotten caught-!

He was so, so stupid.

"What were you going to do with it?"

Alfred told Amarantha everything. That bitch Morrigan would pay. She'd tried to get him to hate Amarantha. She'd told him that she didn't trust Amarantha.

That bitch.

That fucking bitch. She'd been playing him for days! He was going to kill her. He was going to bury her in so much legislation that her grandkids were going to need lawyers! He was going to-!

"I'll take care of this," Amarantha snarled. She scooped up the drugs. "Don't contact her or him again. Got it?"

"Fine." Alfred felt numb. She'd lied to him. He'd liked her… he'd wanted to fuck her. And she'd lied to him. No one had gotten him in a long time. No one…

He was going to fucking kill her.

"I have to do fucking everything around here. Don't do anything stupid, okay, Hybern?" She strode back out the door. "And Hybern if I fucking hear you've been contacting her, I'll murder you myself. Got it?" Then, just as she'd come, she left, slamming the door behind her.