Love Like Blood: (Royal Blood #5) (15 page)

He frowned but nodded. “Once I get there, you’ll have to give me some time.”

“How much do you need?” I asked.

“An hour. Two tops.” He shrugged like he was apologizing. “The facial recognition database takes time to do its thing. There are a lot of bad guys out there.”

“Understood. Do what you need to do. We want this done right. We’ll only get one shot at this, so it needs to be irrefutable.”

He puffed his chest out. “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

We dropped Jackson off near his usual bus stop and let him make his own way into work. That way, it wouldn’t raise suspicions when it came time for him to smuggle out what we needed. When he was in the clear, Mercy and I made our own way into central London to wait for him to do his thing.

Section Seven was located in the subbasement levels of a nondescript office building in the City. Out the back, the loading dock was scarcely used or surveilled apart from a keycard and thumbprint entrance, which made it the perfect place for a rendezvous. Knowing that Jackson was smart enough to disable the CCTV when he exited, we laid in wait.

“Do you think he can do it?” Mercy asked, watching the rear door like a hawk.

“We’ll find out in a minute.”

There was a click and a dull boom that announced the back door had opened, and a moment later, Jackson emerged with a satchel clutched against his chest, the strap across his shoulder. He jogged down the lane, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t being followed as he approached the car.

Finally, he slipped into the backseat looking sheepish.

“Any problems?” Mercy asked, twisting around to face him.

“Mei almost got me,” he whispered. “But I told her I had explosive—”

“You don’t have to whisper,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“What have you got for us?” Mercy asked, slapping me on the arm.

He placed his satchel in his lap and opened the flap. “A pretty little box that’ll get you past the security system. You’ll need to hook it to the connector that feeds power directly to the property,” he explained. “It’ll override the feed, automatically disable the alarms and sensors, and give you wireless access if you need it.”

“We need to hook it to the power line itself?” Mercy asked.

“That part of the city still has lines above ground. You’ll need to hook it into the transformer that directly hooks into the property. The hack works by—”

“Does it work?” I interrupted.

“Yeah…”

“Then that’s all we need to know.”

Jackson grimaced. “There’s a turbocharged USB drive in there that’ll copy whatever is on the computer network inside. Just plug it into any computer that’s hooked in, and it’ll bring up a program and
boom
. Done.” He smiled smugly. “It’s got like three terabytes of storage in that thing. I tried to get it to four, but three was pushing it. You can’t get these things in shops.”

“Thanks, Jackson,” Mercy said, beaming at him.

“There’s a bunch of tranquilizers, and I swiped a couple of bugs for you. And some coms. Just in case you needed them.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want you guys to go in there blind.”

I gave Mercy a look. If I wasn’t mistaken, that man had a crush on my woman.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” she exclaimed.

“Oh, and the guys you were looking for?” he said, leaning close. “Known associates of Damien Allaire and Jacques Lafayette.”

I wasn’t surprised, but I thought it would have been someone from the remains of Royal Blood going by her meeting with Gardener. Since Greggor and The Watchman were the last people who had known about Lorelei’s captivity with the traffickers, the chances of a link between the two was low. Unless Gardener had accidentally tipped someone off with his poking around on Lorelei’s behalf, and her involvement would have been an unexpected boon. Players from both sides had a lot to gain from her death.

“Associates?” Mercy asked.

“Assassins for hire,” he replied and patted the bag. “I copied some files.”

Taking the bag from him, I said, “You better get back inside before someone misses you.”

“Oh, they won’t come looking for a while,
believe me
.”

Mercy stifled a laugh. “Still, we’ve got lots of work to do and you’ve given us above and beyond. Thanks, Jackson, we owe you one.”

He flushed and nodded enthusiastically. “Just promise me you’ll get the bad guys.”

She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Promise.”

M
ercy made
her way back to Devonshire while I ventured to Allaire’s house to stake it out.

Walking down the dark, leafy street amongst the posh houses, I spied the black sedan that housed Nathaniel Hawkes.

Knocking twice on the window, there was a click as the locks disengaged. Opening the door, I slid inside.

“Good to see you again, X,” Hawkes said as I settled into the passenger seat.

“It’s been a while,” I replied, glad for the company.

“How are they?”

I was surprised to find that his concern was touching. “As well as can be expected given the circumstances.”

“Miss Lansford?” he prodded.

“Perhaps calling her Miss Lansford isn’t such a good idea. She’s a little volatile right now.” I nodded toward the house. “Anything to report?”

“All quiet,” he replied with a sigh, giving away that he’d become attached to the assassin. Whether that happened before or after her supposed death, was anyone’s guess. “There’s not much happening. Allaire is in residence and hasn’t left since he returned yesterday afternoon.”

“He’s up to something,” I mused.

“That’s my guess. These assholes always are. After Miss—Lorelei’s encounter in Brixton, I’m sure they’re looking for her or at least, have one eye open while they sleep.”

I grunted as he handed me a pair of binoculars.

“The house is fairly standard apart from the security,” he went on as I scanned the building. “Two rotating shifts of guards. Four a piece.”

“Only four?” I scoffed.

“I would assume they think the security system has enough countermeasures to warrant it.”

Lights flashed in the corner of my eye, and I dropped the binoculars as a vehicle approached, its headlights illuminating us from behind for a split second. As it passed, I realized it was a sleek, black limousine, which could belong to a number of people who lived on this particular street, but it turned up the drive to Allaire’s house and paused at the gates.

“Who do you think this is?” Hawkes mused aloud.

“It could be any number of assholes,” I replied.

“He does have fingers in a lot of pies.”

“Been digging?” I asked, impressed at the amount of intel he’d gathered under the radar.

“Enough to know that this is a guy Mr. Vaughn would love to tangle with.”

I raised an eyebrow, but Hawkes was too busy watching the street. Vaughn was a borderline vigilante? I assumed he was when it suited him.

The gates swung inward, the limousine moved through, and then they closed seamlessly behind it. Raising the binoculars again, I watched as it rolled up the driveway and came to a stop at the front entrance to the house. When its occupants emerged, I wasn’t sure if I should count our blessings or be extremely worried.

I glanced at Hawkes uneasily and handed him the binoculars.

“I don’t believe it,” he murmured as he caught sight of the men. “Christmas was weeks ago.”

“I wouldn’t be popping the champagne just yet,” I said.

Taking the binoculars back, I peered through them at the house, finding the man everyone was making such a fuss about. Jacques Lafayette entered the house, followed by two large bodyguards, and I tracked his progress through the windows. He emerged upstairs in the study and shook hands with a man I knew to be Damien Allaire.

Why the fuck was Lafayette in the UK? He was right at the top of MI6’s most wanted list. Coming here was suicide…unless he had a score to settle. A score with Greggor’s daughter…the one who got away.

“I don’t like this, Hawkes,” I said. “I don’t like it at all.”

Whatever our target was here for, it was a score we had to settle first, or we were all dead.

W
atching
Lorelei and Vaughn go through the haul I brought back from Jackson was like watching two kids in a chocolate shop.

“Is this aboveboard?” Vaughn asked. “They’re not tracking us with it, are they?”

“No,” I shot back. “I checked it myself. It’s legit.”

“If you say so. Have you heard from X?”

Yeah, I had, but I wasn’t sure what to say about our conversation. On my way back to the cottage, I’d gotten a call from my one and only.

He’d met up with Hawkes, and they were on the down low, keeping an eye on Allaire’s house. Then the Frenchman had gotten a visitor that blew our entire plan out of the water. The ultimate target himself, Jacques Lafayette, was his houseguest.
Motherfucker
.

X had told me to keep my mouth shut until he could wrap his head around why he was there at all. It could be because of Royal Blood’s implosion and Lorelei. There was more going on than we knew, and I suspected more than even she was aware of.

Did Lafayette have some kind of score to settle with Greggor even in death? Was he here for Lorelei? Or was it just a case of putting her in the ground before she could do the same to him? Who knew.

It troubled me that X wanted to keep it under wraps, but I could definitely see why he was hesitant. Lorelei would want to rush in and kill the guy before we had our chance to question him. We still had to figure out an end to this fucked-up story that would satisfy all parties involved. Everyone would have to give a little, but I feared it would be Lorelei who would suffer the most. I knew that if I’d had to keep Sykes alive instead of painting the walls with his brains, it would’ve driven me mad, and for her? Shit, it would literally drive her into insanity. Getting her revenge was the main thing that kept her in reality.

“Mercy?” Vaughn prodded, his forehead creasing with a troubled frown.

“X has set up a feed,” I declared, pulling out my laptop.

“Footage from Allaire’s house?” Lorelei asked, turning her attention from the bag and sitting next to me. She didn’t seem pissed with me anymore or have that murderous glint in her eye, so I let her lean over my shoulder to watch the live feed that X had set up on the dash of Hawkes’s car.

“Hawkes hooked us up apparently,” I said, opening up the video and setting the computer on the coffee table. “I think it’s best we let them monitor the house and the comings and goings of the guards and staff until we can find a weak point in their schedule. Then we will infiltrate.”

“What’s the timeline?” Lorelei asked.

“X has given me a scope of twenty-four hours before I need to return. If we need more hands, then we’ll contact you.”

“No fucking way,” she exclaimed. “You’re pushing me out of my own revenge? I won’t allow it.”

“Calm down,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Until our surveillance is watertight, we think it’s best for you and Vaughn to lay low. When we get the green light, you’re more than welcome to take point. Hell, you can even kick the door in yourself if you really want to.”

Vaughn sighed loudly. “She’s with Intelligence now. It’s all about protocol and minimizing complications. Never thought I’d see the day when they reeled you and X in. Such a fucking shame.”

“I never wanted to be a bad guy,” I spat at him. “I was trapped by circumstance. So was X. I wouldn’t be so quick to voice your judgment, not when there’s a vested interest in your incarceration.”

Lorelei snarled at me, and I gave Vaughn a pointed look. She cared about him more than even she was aware of.

“We want the best outcome for everyone,” I said dryly. “Have a little patience.”

“So what are we meant to do?” Lorelei snapped. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. You need us, Mercy. We have the codes that’ll get us past Allaire.”

I didn’t want to be the one to tell her that stupid code words were useless, so I just shrugged.

Vaughn rolled his eyes at me and wrapped his arm around Lorelei’s waist. “Come,” he said. “Leave her be.”

She began to protest, but he led her from the room, leaving me to do the most boring job in the entire world in peace.

Settling down on the couch, I began reviewing the footage X had recorded overnight, looking for holes he might’ve missed. Like he always said, the only step that mattered was the foundation. Without a solid plan, the shot never hit its mark.

As of a few hours ago, we only had one bullet in the chamber…and we couldn’t miss.

**

I spent most of the night and morning reviewing the footage from Hawkes’s dash cam. Lorelei paced for a while until Vaughn took her away. From the orgasmic sounds that echoed from upstairs, they’d had the time of their lives, and it only made X’s absence that much harder to tolerate.

As for the task at hand? Talk about boring as fuck.

The only discernible way into that house was with a sledgehammer, and that was if we could manage to scramble the security system. I assumed X had come to the same conclusion, but I wondered if he’d noticed the van that had passed his location at the same time morning and night for the past two days. The markings on the side made them as
Speedy Cleaning Services
, a boutique business that was located in North London. It had a very rich client list that—after minimal digging—included several high profile properties. Among the addresses was the one X and Hawkes were currently sitting out the front of.

Once I was ready to go back into London and meet up with them, I decided to take the initiative and get a way in that would allow me to gather much more intel than watching from the other side of the six-foot-high fence would.

Naturally, I’d stopped by the cleaning service and had a pink fit at the way they treated their female staff. Low wages, slutty uniform, and an owner with a wandering dick. They might as well start up a side business whoring out poor girls from Eastern Europe on temporary work permits the way they were going. Total assholes, but I got in with a little flirting and a horrible Ukrainian accent and got what I needed to screw over Damien Allaire.

When this operation was all said and done, I’d get Jackson to hack into their servers, plant a virus to screw up their cash flow, and get Immigration on their asses. Served. Them. Right.

I parked the car the next block over and walked the rest of the way to X’s position. Sliding into the front passenger seat, I said, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Where have you been?” he asked, ignoring my quip.

“I had to make a pit stop at the cleaners,” I replied, not biting either.

“The cleaners? What am I missing?”

“While you were sitting on your ass perving on Allaire and his boyfriend, I found a way in that would allow me to move around the house freely.”

“Do go on,” he drawled, understanding flashing in his eyes. “This is going to be good.”

“I reviewed the footage you’ve been sending and noticed the cleaning service rolled in every day at the same time, so…I’m the new maid,” I declared. “I go in, wave my feather duster around, vacuum up some ode de asshole, and stick some of the bugs Jackson gave us around the joint. You listen and take notes.
Bam
, intel gathered.”

X grunted his impressed grunt, and I opened my jacket, revealing my back and white maid’s outfit.

“Do I look French-maidy enough?” I asked, giving him a suggestive wink.

He raised an eyebrow, giving me the once-over. “
That’s
the uniform?”

“Archaic, right? But sexy.” I made a kissy face. “I’ve got the schedule. I swapped out a shift with one of the regular girls, and I’m meeting her partner around the back in fifteen.”

X scowled.

“What?” I asked, bumping my shoulder against his. “I thought you’d be sporting a semi at the fact I’m so talented at my job.”

“I just don’t like you going in there on your own. What if they recognize you from Paris?”

“Neither of them saw me, and no one saw us take Allaire’s daddy.”

“But one of their guards might have,” he shot back.

“X, believe me when I say, they won’t be looking at my face. Not in this getup. And if they do, all they’ll see is the scar.” Outside of Section Seven, no one looked me in the eye. They all stared at the burn down my cheek, the one The Watchman put there with his hot poker of doom. People saw the ugly, puckered, mark and didn’t see any further than that.

He snarled, his expression darkening.

“Settle down,” I said, making sure I had the listening devices stashed in my pocket for easy access. “You’ve trained me better than any asshole at MI6 could have. I know every countermeasure inside out and back to front. I have to be able to stand alone on these things when I have to.”

“I know,” he replied. “I’m still going to be protective of you, Mercy.”

Leaning over, I pressed a light kiss on his lips. “Right back atchya.”

Making my way around the block to the rear of the house, I saw the van had already arrived for the day. It was parked in the driveway with the back doors open. A woman in a maid’s uniform stood waiting with her hands on her hips. She was a slight little thing with long legs and a pretty face, her fiery red hair done up into a tight braid. I’m sure she excelled in more than polishing silverware looking like that.

When she saw me, she glanced at her watch and shook her head. Knowing I was still ten minutes early, I approached her, well and truly ready to get inside and get this show on the road.

“You’re Hilda?” she asked, and I began to regret the hasty alias I’d chosen. “I’m Gertrude.” Then I took it all back.

“I don’t know why they gave me
you
,” she said, giving me the once-over. “Mr. Allaire is very particular about who he lets into his home.”

“It was cleared with Mr. Harner,” I said, feigning stupidity.

She rolled her eyes and gestured for me to follow her into the house. Once inside, she snapped instructions at me and shoved a feather duster into my hands.

“Mr. Allaire likes the library kept immaculate. Do you think you can manage to dust the shelves without breaking anything?”

Patronizing bitch
. “Yes,” I replied, playing dumb.

Gertrude snorted and jabbed a finger toward the stairs. “First floor, second door on the right hand side. Don’t dawdle.”

Making my way up the grand staircase, I rolled my eyes. Poor dear Gertie seemed very focused on Allaire’s needs, and I suspected she offered some fringe benefits, like getting down on all fours, hitching up her skirt, and using more than the vacuum cleaner to suck up the dirt.

Wandering into the library, I had to shake my head at the grandeur human trafficking afforded this asshole. Mahogany, leather, and gold. I couldn’t believe people like this existed outside of the movies. I seriously expected to find a white Persian cat roaming the place, one that Allaire stroked while cackling manically while basking in the glow of his diabolic business practices.

Doing a lap of the room, I stopped by a table that held a crystal decanter full of brown spirits and several glasses. Seemed like a good place for conversations between men doing bad guy business stuff. Reaching into my pocket, I took one of the little bugs and stuck the round device under the edge of the table.

To the side of the room was a pair of double doors that sat slightly ajar. Tiptoeing across the plush Persian rug, I peeked through the gap and saw it was the study. A huge desk with a computer sat in the middle, and a brown leather lounge setting was positioned before it. There was movement within as the far door opened, and I ducked out of view.

Brandishing the duster, I began the task of dusting the billion and one shelves that I knew Gertrude had given to me as part of a good old hazing ritual. Little did she know that it was right where I wanted to be. This was the part of the house where a man conducted his business, and if I were lucky, there would be a little something something next door as I worked.

“I don’t know why you insist on speaking English.”

I hesitated slightly at the sound of a male voice, which had a very French accent attached, before continuing to dust the shelves, the feathers tickling the spines of all the classics.
Moby Dick, Van Helsing, Jane Eyre
. This guy either had eclectic tastes or he just liked the old-school library look.

“I like to know and understand my enemy, Damien. Speak their language, eat their food…
walk their streets
. Stalk them as they stalk me.”

Holy fuck. Allaire and Lafayette were having a little heart to heart
in the next room
.

I didn’t know if the bug I’d planted in the library would pick up their conversation and relay it back to X, so I had to linger for as long as I could without getting caught. This could be the moment that changed everything.

For a split second, the idea of getting the bastards now flashed through my mind. They were both in the same room and unaware that they had an intruder in their midst… But how the fuck was I going to kill them when I was unarmed? I could make a slapdash attempt at making a crude grenade or bomb with some of the chemicals stored in the kitchen and the van outside. Maybe I’d get lucky.

I shook my head. No, that was out of the question. It’d make a lot of noise, and I might not be able to make it out without it being in a body bag. It would piss X off no end.

It sucked, but I had to lay low, gather intelligence, and get the hell out so I could get them another day. It was the game. Knowing when to take a gamble and when to stand down.

“My man Ballinger hasn’t delivered on his promise,” Allaire replied. “He seems to have gone…missing.”

There was a slight hesitation, and I realized he was afraid of Lafayette. He ought to be. The guy had a reputation for doing away with those who didn’t follow through. A ‘no loose ends’ kinda guy.

“Then you understand he’s already dead,” Lafayette replied, his thick accent making his words sound twisted. “It’s lucky I decided to pay you a visit, no? It seems you have a problem that you’re having trouble containing.”

“I have men out searching for her,” Allaire countered, a hint of panic in his voice.

“Being stalked by the specter of Royal Blood is bad for business,” he said absently. “That’s why I’m here to perform an exorcism, Mr. Allaire.”