Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

E mma was furious. "You, of all people, let him do this to me?"

Dolan barely avoided the full Pop-Tart package she whipped at his head. He held up a placating hand. "He's trying to protect you."

"Protect me! He's trying to ditch me and do this all himself. He is such a…" She couldn't think of a bad enough word.

"Yeah, I know. He is a horrible, no good ass, but his heart is in the right place.”

She picked up what was left of the box and threw that at him. "He doesn't get to decide what I can and can't do. He doesn't get to leave me behind without even saying goodbye!"

He caught it and set it on the counter. "He has a plan. I know it's tough to be patient?—”

“Patient?" Her voice came out a screech. “This isn’t about patience. This is about him making decisions without me. This is about him not trusting that we can do this together. He's a selfish wanker is what he is!"

Dolan grinned at her use of the British slang. "I don't disagree. I've known him most of his life, and even in his posh suits, and with his superior attitude, he's always been one."

There was nothing left on the table to throw besides a salt and pepper shaker set. She picked them up, testing their weight. "You need to get out of my way right now."

"Where do you think you're going? "

"To find him. Where did he go?"

He stood between her and the back door. "I honestly don't know. He didn't tell me."

"Because he knew I'd get that information out of you." She threw both shakers, one after the other, bam, bam , at the wall. The glass busted, and the contents spilled on the floor. "The sex was incredible, but it was just a damn distraction. I should've known better than to fall asleep afterward."

Dolan looked like he wanted to plug his ears. He glanced down at his boots and pressed his lips together.

"Give me your keys.” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. "I'm not staying here while he's out there running around trying to capture the Mastermind."

Dolan raised his head, using a voice that sounded like he was reasoning with a child. “How do you think you're going to find him?"

She huffed. “You're going to track his phone for me."

“I can't."

She stomped to him and shoved at his chest. "Bullshit. Find him. Now. I know you have one of those gadgets that can do it, or you put some kind of secret app on it."

His look told her he was reassessing her intelligence. Or maybe her cunning. "Good guess."

She smiled, pleased that she was right. “Whatever he's doing, he's doing for me. He'll throw himself on his sword if it will help me. I can't live with that. Please. Get on your laptop and figure out where he is."

He made a face, and she knew she had him. "I don't have to look it up. I already know."

She smacked his arm. “What? You lied?” She hit him again. “Where?"

“Langley.”

“Huh?” The spy HQ? She figured he’d gone after the Mastermind. “Why there?"

"Because, like you said, he's throwing himself on his sword. Sort of. He's not one to ask for help, so I had to arrange an intervention."

“Intervention?”

He nodded. “I had to do something.”

“Thank you. I think.” She grabbed her backpack and pointed at the door. "What are we waiting for? Let's go."

His phone dinged. He checked the readout. “Looks like you get your wish.”

Her phone went off next, and she snatched it out of her pocket. It was a text from Truman. “I don’t understand,” she said to Dolan. “What does this mean?”

“Operation Heist is in motion.” He jingled his truck keys from a finger, turning for the door. “You and Truman are about to take on the Mastermind. I hope you’re happy.”

She rushed after him, replying to the text with a thumbs-up emoji, fear and anticipation mingling in her veins. Happy? “You’re damn skippy I am.”

She only hoped they weren’t walking into a trap.

“We’re the bait,” Truman told Emma thirty minutes later. He looked less than thrilled about it. “Well, technically, I am, but the Mastermind doesn’t know that I know I’m the one he actually wants.”

Her mind was reeling, trying to connect the dots. They’d gathered in the parking lot of Dancing In The Moonlight with a handful of people she recognized from the reception. It was only after Dolan led her inside and Zara offered her a drink from behind the bar that she realized the club was a total sham—a cover, like Dolan’s pawn shop, where agents and operatives came and went under the guise of strippers, bartenders, and clientele to pass intel and exchange money, gadgets, and more.

“Holy shit,” she said. “All this time… You and Dolan and…”

A slender man with golden skin and chocolate eyes raised a hand. “Me. Yep, Bastian snatched us snotty little urchin brats off the streets and turned us into his personal spies without us even realizing it.”

A shadow government organization. Two, in fact. More, if Truman was accurate—and he usually was. But the US and UK versions were all they cared about right now.

“Your mum is doing better,” Truman told her.

Julia sipped on a soda. “She’s improving as we speak. They’ve taken her out of her medically induced coma, and even though the blade nicked a vocal cord, she’s already able to whisper.”

The quiet man at a table in the corner spoke up. He was like a viper—silent, deadly, and ready to strike at any moment. “We think Bastian tried to finish her off at the three a.m. shift change, but our man didn’t let him get close.”

“Brad is Michael’s bodyguard and the best of the best,” Brigit assured her. “That’s why we put him at her door. She’s safe.”

That was a relief. “Can she ID the Mastermind?”

Zara handed her a glass of the same soda Julia sipped on. “No one’s questioned her about it yet.”

Truman, on the stool next to her, rested his hand on Emma’s back. “Pearson’s still in the dark, but he won’t be for long.”

Brigit nodded. “Michael’s meeting him right now to tell him everything about his partner .”

Ian Bastian, the man who’d put the Red Hearts in jail, had used her and Truman to track each of them down and arrest them. In reality, as the Mastermind, he knew where they were all along.

“I’m fuzzy about why he would ruin a lucrative way of making money,” she said. “If he was using stolen gems to support his mission of training and inserting people into important positions, why turn the Red Hearts over to law enforcement?”

“He was retiring,” Truman told her. “He left Scotland Yard after the arrests, but we believe he decided to tie up loose ends around his illegal activities, either on his own or because Invictus ordered him to.”

Her stomach churned at her next thought. “Why not kill us, then?”

“Killing is messy business and can create more problems when it comes to covering it up,” the viper said from his booth. “Breaking up an infamous theft ring allowed him to go out with a bang and secure his role as an elite officer. Collect his pension, move to America, keep his fingers in the pie as a consultant.”

She swiveled on her stool. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

He gave her a viper’s smile. “Call me Solomon.”

“Not important,” Truman said, forcing her back around. She heard the man snort. “What is important is that you follow my instructions about our meetup with him.”

“He raised you to think of him as your dad and then used you. Doesn’t that bother you?” she asked.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. Dolan cleared his throat. Spencer looked at a dartboard on the wall. “More than you know,” Truman admitted. “But we’ll deal with him after we secure your pa.”

All these people, willing to help her. “But he told me to come alone.”

“When Brad alerted me that Bastian was at the hospital this morning,” Brigit said, “I called Dolan to put eyes on him.”

Dolan nodded. “I went to his condo, put a tracker on his car, and right before he texted you for this meeting, he drove to Gani's neighborhood.”

“My dad is in that building, isn’t he?”

“Not that one,” Truman said. “The one next to it.”

The used car lot? “You figured that out when I showed you the map, didn’t you? That’s why you said you’d set up there when I went to meet him. You knew Bastian wasn’t going to be in Gani's building. He was going to be there with my dad to blackmail you somehow. Or try to kill you.”

He squeezed her hand. “You’re too smart for your own good. At that point, I had no idea we were going to have a team to help us. It was my only option.”

“Really? What was your plan?” Even though it might not matter at this point, she was furious all over again. “Trade yourself for Dad? Let Bastian kill you so Dad and I could go free?”

Truman resumed rubbing her back. “He doesn’t intend to let any of us go, Emma. My plan was to kill him.”

All the bluster went out of her. “Oh.”

“But now,” Zara said, wiping off the countertop with a bar rag, “we’re going to capture the prick and make him pay for his crimes.”

Emma liked the sound of that. “Good.” Meeting each of their eyes—even Solomon, the viper’s—she nodded. “How are we going to do that?”