Page 27 of Set Fire to This Cardhouse

Of course not. Whatever unit had snatched Mike up after his stint with the SEALs would have seen his potential. He would have had some training. They’re not too picky, mind; Toby was offered an introduction, and he laughed in their faces because if it’s information he wants, he stands a better chance of seducing it out of a computer than a human.

“Good.” Toby scans the path they’ve worked out for Mike—clear. The security footage loop is ready to go. “Here’s the plan: you pay Miss Audrey a little visit, charm her, get her out of daddy’s room by suggesting you’ll meet up elsewhere.”

Mike is already moving, navigating the crowd with easy confidence. He disappears from sight as he turns into a corridor before his voice comes in, quiet but sure. “Any advice?”

“Don’t get caught?”

Mike snorts. “On Audrey.”

“She likes bad boys.” Toby hesitates. “Mess up your hair a bit more, undo the first two buttons of your shirt, sling the jacket over your shoulder. You’re an entrepreneur, but with a dangerous edge. You can’t be trusted to play by the rules if the alternative sounds like more fun.”

“Clichéd,” Mike says.

“We’re not trying to win a prize for originality.” Toby brings the drone around to monitor the door where Mike is about to exit; the rear end of the middle deck is not intended to be frequented by guests, but as it holds nothing of real interest, it isn’t closely watched, just a surveillance camera and a guard passing by on occasion. “Deck is clear.”

“Exiting now,” Mike replies.

Toby activates the loop. “Go.”

He watches Mike step onto the deck a moment later, moving towards the railing without hesitation. He uses it to launch himself up, and Toby activates the loop for the next camera, deactivates the other one while Mike swings himself onto the top deck. The whole thing took less than a minute.

“Don’t do something stupid,” Toby advises. Somehow, he feels a little on edge with this whole thing, tension spiraling out from the base of his neck.

Mike exhales through his nose, all the reaction Toby gets before a knock distantly translates through the comm link.

One hand on the rifle, just in case, Toby moves the drone into a better position. On screen, he sees Audrey sit up, look at the door, then slump back into the sofa.

“Try again.” Toby isn’t sure why he’s whispering.

Mike complies—another knock, followed by a soft, “Mademoiselle Jeannot? Audrey?”

This time, Audrey does get up to open the door. Toby can’t make out her expression, but he does note the change in her body language when she catches sight of Mike—her shoulders straighten, head tilting up. “Oui?”

“Bonjour.” Mike’s French is smooth and beautiful, his accent so faint that he must have spent some time in a French-speaking environment. “Ton père m’a envoyé pour s’assurer que tu ne t’ennuies pas.”

Uh. Jeannot would never send someone as good-looking as Mike to make sure that his daughter isn’t bored. What is Mike doing?

“Mon père?” Audrey sounds as skeptical as Toby thought she would, easily seeing through the lie, and oh. Toby gets it now.

“Ah.” Mike’s voice dips low and slightly husky as he admits that well, truth be told, he’s here on his own volition because he saw her earlier, and she looked just as bored as he felt, polite small talk and all, not his scene. They could have a lot of fun being bored together, non?

Toby exhales silently, lowering the binoculars for a moment. It’s a job.

It doesn’t entirely soothe the sting of irritation when Audrey invites Mike inside with a tinkling laugh. This is all according to plan. There was never any doubt that Mike’s looks would come in useful at some point, and Toby is a professional; he won’t let personal feelings get in the way of a job well done.

Focus.

Toby checks the drone footage, then raises the binoculars again, absently listening to Mike and Audrey exchanging thinly veiled innuendo while he scans the surroundings to ensure that no one is approaching Jeannot’s rooms. Everything looks normal, party guests milling about in suits and costumes that clash with the warm evening, Jeannot himself holding court on an enormous white sofa that wouldn’t look out of place in some porn king’s lair, sipping from a drink that’s almost certainly a virgin something-or-other.

Toby could use a real drink right now. Except he’s a professional, so he’s damn well going to behave like one.

In his ear, Mike chuckles breathlessly, a dark edge to it. “Pas ici.” Not here, and good, he’s moving this along. Took him fucking long enough. (It’s been four minutes. Toby’s counting.)

“Pourquoi pas?” Audrey asks, why not, and Toby doesn’t want to know where her hands are, whether she’s touching Mike—which of course she is because she’d probably like nothing more than to spite her dad by having sex right there on his couch. They disagree about the means, but Toby does applaud her delight in flouting her father’s rules. Now, if she could do it in a way that doesn’t involve Mike, Toby would be grateful.

“Parce que—” Mike stops talking for a beat, and Toby keeps his attention resolutely on the surroundings, the Liberty shining in the night, colorful like a circus come to town. When Mike continues, there’s laughter in his voice, a breathless quality as he explains that he loves a risk as much as the next guy, but he’d rather not have Jeannot catch him balls-deep in his little girl while they’re negotiating a business deal.

Mike was balls-deep in Toby.

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