Page 66 of Bastard
He pinches my thigh.
“Ah,” I cry out.
“That’s right. Do it. Drop your weight onto me.”
It’s all the warning I get. He releases his hold on me. I hold on to the flimsy plastic for three perilous seconds before the entire camera rips free.
It drops to the floor.
Hayden’s arms are around me before I hit the ground.
“Let’s take this somewhere more private,” he says, and I almost laugh aloud when he kicks the camera down the hallway.
“That should do it. Now get us inside.”
I don’t immediately release my hold on his shoulders. “Warn me next time. Because I thought ...” I clamp my mouth shut.Dios, why don’t you just admit I thought it was real?
“There’s a toothpick in my hair,” he prompts, all business. As if he’s unaware of my disappointment, after he’s already acknowledged it.
I exhale. “In your man bun?”
“Yes.”
I reach for his bun and retrieve the toothpick before breaking contact with him and moving toward the door.
The three expensive locks are easily breached.
Hayden enters the room first in search of more cameras. Once satisfied we won’t be observed, he waves me inside. We move past a king-size canopy bed and red velvet settee to the large desk against the wall. Barrington’s room is more feminine than I expected. Poor Sabine. It’s obvious he uses the same room that his deceased wife had occupied. I look around and my attention halts on the set of doors leading into Sabine’s room. From what she’s told me, she sleeps next door because Barrington expects her to be ready, able, and available whenever he’s in the mood. Elcabrón.
Hayden looks irritated as he attempts to open the desk. Satisfaction washes over me when he crooks a finger at me, beckoning me to pick the lock.
Once open, he removes two stacks of papers and places them in front of me to sort through while he searches the rest of the desk.
With computers, you can hack a person’s hard drive, steal their information, and disappear without them even knowing it. But papers take time. I grin at the page in front of me. It’s marked up in neon pink. Is the ink Sabine’s small way of rebelling? Ay, I hope so. I really do.
Hayden retrieves a small camera from his tuxedo and begins snapping pictures. When done, he leaves me to rearrange everything back inside while he searches the rest of the room. I watch him as he meticulously works his way around the space, considering every potential hiding place.
But the large painting on the wall catches his attention. Ever so carefully, he removes it and quietly places it picture-side down on the carpet.
My eyes go wide when I see the secret compartment on the backside.
Our eyes lock, and we grin at each other.
Hayden flips it open, and his smile broadens. Even from this angle, I’m able to make out the names, phone numbers, affiliated countries, and payment amounts listed on looseleaf paper. My lips part as I realize they are pages recording buyers.
Madre mía. How many middlemen are there? How much uranium has been illegally sold to the pendejos of the world?
Hayden’s a liar, a cheat, a killer, my heartbreak, but he’s also a hero. The world is a safer place because of the ugly work he does.
He’s tucking his camera back inside his suit pocket when a screech rings out from the hallway.
“Barrington.”
Hayden moves with lightning speed. The ledger’s back in place, the door shut, the painting rehung. I hurriedly relock the tiny lock to the desk drawer.
“I saw you, Barrington. Leaving the party with that woman.” A fist hits the bedroom door, followed by a sobbing Sabine. She tries the door handle, then there’s rustling.
Hayden grabs my hand, and we race to the other door. It’s unlocked, and we’re inside Sabine’s bedroom by the time she’s unlocked the other.
