3. Raven

3

RAVEN

Racing down the steps of the building, I headed to the back exit and shot out into the alley. With my heels clicking against the pavement, I made it a few streets over before I heard the sound of sirens. It shouldn't have taken that long for Hugo's security team to call the police.

I wondered briefly if the men snatching him had made it out, and if it weren't for my deadline, I might have gone back to help them. But that wasn't the job. I turned down a second alley, stopping by the dumpster where I had stashed my bag. I gently pulled off my black shirt, folding it with great precision before tucking it into the bag. The sparkly purple top I brought wasn't at all my style, but it worked for a disguise. However, the black leather jacket was all mine.

After taking great care with my favorite knee-length boots, I put them in the bag, sighing because I knew what was about to happen to them. The feel of the wet ground beneath my feet was enough to make me gag, but I pushed on, shimmying out of my pants and pulling on a tight skirt. After folding the jeans neatly, I layered them in the bag and pulled out my heels, slipping them on after brushing the dirt off my feet.

I pulled my hair out of the ponytail and let the waves of my hair cascade over my shoulders. It wasn't much of a disguise, but a small change was all I needed. I sighed as I took a final look at my boots. I really loved those shoes, but it all had to go. I tossed the bag into the dumpster and grabbed the can of gasoline I'd hidden behind it. I doused everything inside, making sure my bag couldn't be singled out as the target. With a strike of the match, the whole dumpster went up in flames.

I applied a fresh coat of lipstick and headed down the street to the bar on the corner. In this neighborhood, not many people would take a chance and call in a dumpster fire. There were too many well-connected men who didn't mind making an example of people who shoved their noses where they didn't belong.

I pushed the door open, heading to the back of the bar where I was supposed to meet my client. It was dark back here. The owner purposely kept the lights low for unsavory characters who wanted a safe place to do business. Sliding into the booth across from him, I waited for him to show his face.

He leaned forward, his face still partially darkened by the hat on his head. "Do you have it?"

"I want my money." I eyed the salt and pepper shakers, itching to reach over and straighten them, but I refrained.

"Show it to me."

I pulled the keycard from my pocket and flashed it for him. "Now the money."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a wad of cash, all of them hundreds. After he fanned it out for me to see, I slid the keycard across the table.

"Nice doing business with you," I said, shoving out of the seat before I could change my mind about the salt and pepper. His hand shot out and latched onto my wrist. I slowly turned and faced him. "If you know what's good for you, you'll remove your hand."

"I didn't say we were done."

I waited for him to release his grip, then took my seat again. "I never said I was doing more than one job."

He held up the keycard. "I didn't think you'd actually be able to get it."

"And why's that?"

In the faint light, I saw the growing smirk on his face. "I only know of one woman capable of pulling off that stunt."

"So, why didn't you send her in?"

"She was otherwise preoccupied."

"With what?"

His eyes dilated slightly. "Another job."

"What exactly do you need me for?"

"The job isn't over. Not by a long shot."

"You already mentioned that. How much does it pay?"

He slid a folder across the table to me. I picked it up, flipping it open. My eyes widened in shock when I saw my brother's file staring back at me. It was a very detailed outline of his life. He hadn't lived a life on the straight and narrow. He was more of a winding roads kind of guy, and he ended up in a lot of trouble. I was able to stay out of the limelight for most of my career, but Kevin had run with the wrong crowd and got thrown in prison on his last job.

"What about him?"

"I can get him out."

It was tempting, but what kind of life would he lead after that? "You want to break him out so he can live in hiding the rest of his life? That doesn't sound very good to me."

His lips twitched in amusement. "I wouldn't be breaking him out. I have acquaintances who can secure his release. Legally."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Who are you?"

"Don't you think you should have asked that before?"

"I didn't care before. A job is a job until you start dragging my family into the equation."

He leaned forward again, the dim light from the bulb detailing his handsome features. He was good-looking enough, but not someone I would want to get into bed with—literally or figuratively. There was an underlying threat in his expression—something I only saw with the most dangerous of men. It sent chills down my spine and warning bells went off in my head that I should walk away.

"You can call me Rafe."

"Is that what all your friends call you?"

"I wouldn't know. That would require me to have some."

I could walk away right now and forget I ever knew him, but somehow, I knew this man wouldn't stop just because I said no. Apparently, I had done my job a little too well, and now he was willing to call in favors to keep me on his payroll. It was tempting.

"What kind of man has acquaintances who have the leverage to do something like this?" I asked, holding up my brother's folder. "He's in for twenty years."

"A man who used to be one of them."

I barked out a laugh. "You were a G man?"

"A Fed. I was maybe a little too good at my job."

"So, they fired you?" I asked, my hand sliding over to the end of the table. I quickly reorganized the salt and pepper, making sure the salt was on the left side. Then, I moved on to the condiments tray, making sure all the labels were facing forward.

"No, I went out on my own. Pesky things like laws kept getting in my way. Are we through with the questions?"

"Not even a little."

"I'm not answering any more."

"Then I guess our business is complete."

I went to stand when his hand shot out again and squeezed harder this time. "When was the last time you saw your brother?"

My breath hitched as I remembered his final court appearance. "The day they sentenced him."

"Then you must not realize what life is like for him inside. Perhaps you want to think about that."

"Rafe…" I said, letting the name sink in. "I don't want my brother to suffer in prison, but if you're not willing to tell me a little bit about what I'm getting into, I'm not willing to risk my neck or my brother's. So, are you going to tell me or am I walking?"

The way he stared at me, I wasn't sure he was going to answer my questions, but then he leaned back in his seat. "What do you want to know?"

"You used to be a Fed. How do I know you're not setting me up?"

"Because what I'm doing isn't legal. If I was really a Fed, I wouldn't be allowed to put you in the situation to do something illegal. It would be entrapment."

"There are ways around that."

"You're right. And when I was a Fed, I had no problem bending the rules to suit me."

He could be telling the truth. Honestly, I believed him, but getting involved with a Fed—former or otherwise—just wasn't a smart decision. "You know, I think I believe you."

"Then we have a deal."

"No. Sorry, but I'm not interested in getting involved."

I started to walk away when he called out over his shoulder. "You're already involved. And believe me, you'd rather be on my side than theirs."

I wanted to keep going. Everything in me screamed to move my feet and get the hell out of there, but if I didn't know who would come after me, how would I ever stay alive? I didn't know what I had taken, other than the fact that it was a keycard. It could belong to anything.

Turning, I walked back to the table and slid into the booth, ready to wipe the smirk off his face. He was so damn smug. "So, I'm assuming this means that you have some proof that I was involved."

"Something like that."

"And you planned to use it to lure me into another job."

"Now you see where I was going with this," he grinned. "Drink?"

I sighed, getting comfortable. "Yeah, might as well."

He raised a hand, signaling two drinks to the bartender. Only after the drinks were delivered did he continue. "I'm trying to save my family, just as I'd like to help with your brother."

"What does your family have to do with this?" I quickly grabbed a napkin and shoved it under my glass, catching the condensation dribbling down the side.

His eyes caught the movement and he frowned slightly before continuing. "There's a crime syndicate…I'm sure you've never heard of it. Most haven't. It controls all the major illegal operations that happen around the world. There are smaller versions, of course, but none of them hold as much power. I've been working to dismantle them for years, and I'm getting close."

"And the keycard has something to do with that."

"Yes."

"What do you need now?"

"I need a team that can move in and recover the items hidden in the storage unit. That keycard unlocks access to the facility."

"What's the catch?"

"It's only available for a twenty-four-hour window."

"And after that?"

"The owner relinquishes all ownership of anything left behind."

"So, you want me to break in and steal it."

"No. I want you at another location."

"Doing what?"

"Stealing something else." His eyes twinkled with mirth as he took a sip of his drink.

"And why would I do that?"

"To distract the fence. The last thing I need is him paying any attention to the product I want to steal."

"And what will I do with whatever I steal?"

He shrugged. "I think you can find something to do with it."

"And the profit?"

"All yours."

It was tempting. It sounded like an easy job, but that didn't mean I was getting the full scope of the details. Still, the thought of getting my brother out of prison was tempting.

"If you screw me over on this, I won't hesitate to kill you."

"If this goes as I plan, the only thing you'll be getting is a lot of money and your brother back."