Page 55 of Merciless Heir

I sigh. “You found something. Happy?”

“Very.” He sits opposite and crosses his legs and my gaze is drawn to them clad in black denim. I might hate him for being so damn hot.

I grip the arm of the sofa and imagine it’s his neck. Of course, the image that comes to mind is not one of violence, but one of erotically charged—

“The crap on the phone? It isn’t crap. I know what it all is.”

“And?”

Breathing out, trying to keep those delicious, disturbing images out of my head, I continue. “It’s a time and a date and an address further uptown, in Harlem.”

He doesn’t say anything, just waits and it’s like nails on a blackboard, that waiting, because it’s so loaded and I don’t like where it’s going. And if I reveal everything, just how bad it makes me look.

Not that I’ve done anything.

At least, not for a long time. And not to him.

“There’s a collector. Very rich, maybe even as rich as you.”

“Do I know him? Or her?”

“Him,” I say, “and no, you don’t. This is not a circle you move in, Kingston. You have to understand that.”

“You’d be surprised by the circles I move in.”

“This man is very connected. And he loves fine art, jewels, whatever is rare and wanted, and if it’s stolen? He thinks it’s better that way.”

I know this man. I’ve known him for too long. My father goes a long way back with him. My relationship is just in selling the man things when Dad used to make me steal for him. But I haven’t seen Mr. Duante for years. When I had my short-lived career, I kept away from people like him. Oh, I saw him around, but that history from my younger years always makes my skin crawl, even though the man has never been anything but nice to me.

Nice because he wanted me to work for him.

That’s neither here nor there. He’s a way in and I have to go alone. Problem is, I’m not sure I can do this without Kingston insisting on coming along.

I don’t want them to meet.

Kingston nods. “Okay. But there’s something else. It’s in your eyes. You have a brilliant poker face, but I can read you. And I know you’re not telling me something.”

“I think I should go in alone to see. This kind of word-of-mouth event…it’ll be a party…isn’t something you should go to.”

He nods with a soft smile, one that offers the illusion of agreement, and I know immediately I’ve said the wrong thing. I’ve piqued his interest. He’s not any different from the rest of his kind. They all want to get a thrill from rubbing shoulders with the likes of me, and what’s a bigger thrill than rubbing shoulders with a very rich man with mafia connections?

Kingston leans forward. “Sadie?”

“Yes?”

“If you think for one minute I’m letting you go in alone to face some scumbag without me, you’re insane.”

“I get it. The idea is thrilling—”

“No.” Kingston’s voice doesn’t change from the soft tone, but the steel there that’s made of ice jars me, pins me down to the spot. “I don’t think it’s thrilling at all. I think it’s dangerous and I’m not letting you go alone.”

“I’m not the one who’ll be in danger, Mr. Moneybags.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Sadie.”

“I’m not.” I’m leaning forward, too, but my nails are digging into the sofa’s arm and I’m vibrating. “This guy isn’t going to talk to me if you’re there.”

“I’m not a fucking cop.”

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