Page 44 of Sweet Revenge
She cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder at the clock on the stove. “Now?”
“No time like the present. We’ll talk in my office.”
He turned on his heel and led her back the way he’d come and into his office, flicking on the light so the lamps in the corner and on his desk lit up the space. She stood in the doorway while he moved to his desk, watching him over the rim of her mug.
“What?”
“I didn’t know you owned any other clothes besides tailored Italian suits.”
His lips twitched into a grin as he glanced down at the sweatpants he pulled on before coming downstairs, noting the way her gaze traveled up over his bare chest and the tattoo that covered much of his left pec and shoulder before curling over his bicep and down to his elbow.
“So,” she said, eyes snapping back to his face as she cleared her throat, “what job?”
He motioned to one of the chairs that sat across from his desk and waited for her to sit before flipping open a folder and pulling a picture out.
“This is Andrea DiMarco.” Across the desk, he slid the picture of a man in his late fifties with dark hair graying at the temples. “He moves big money in the city.”
“For the Italians?” She set her mug on the edge of the desk to study the photo.
“He started with the Italians, but now he seems to be playing house with the Russians too.”
Evie’s brows drew together. “That’s not good.”
Lust for her arrowed through him. She’d always understood their business as well as he did. It was one of many reasons they’d made the perfect match.
“No. He carries this thumb drive around with him everywhere. I’m not ready to make a move on him yet, mostly because I don’t know what he’s up to, and until I do, I don’t care to stir up trouble.”
“But you want to know what’s on that drive.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
He handed her another photo, and she squinted at the blown-up pixelated image of what looked like an engraved lighter. “What can you tell me about him? I have to know about him, his habits, his likes, so I can figure out how to get that for you,” she added when Declan raised a single brow.
“I happen to know that he’ll be at a fundraiser for the mayor’s re-election campaign this weekend, and I have an invitation for myself and a guest,” Declan said. “We can go together, and you can do whatever it is you do to get it from him.”
“No,” Evie replied, lifting her mug to her lips and studying the picture of DiMarco again.
“No?”
Setting the mug down, she glanced up at Declan. “Does he know who you are?”
“I’ve never met him, but I would have to assume so, yes.”
“Would he know who I am?”
He could see where she was going with this, but he wasn’t sure he liked it. “He’s only been in the city for about five years, so probably not.”
“If you want me to get close enough to him to steal a flash drive he most likely keeps in his breast pocket after only knowing him a few hours without getting caught, then we can’t be seen together. We can’t even appear to know each other.”
“And if he makes you?”
“He won’t. I’ve been doing this a long time, Declan. Have a little faith.”
He studied her carefully. He didn’t like the idea of her being alone with this guy. “How would you get into the fundraiser if you don’t have an invitation?”
“Who can resist a damsel in distress?” Evie rose, grinning. “Give me a couple days to think it over, and then we can talk details.” She moved to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. “This’ll be fun.”
“What about your fees?”
