His Obsession

6

Raquel

Acold chill washes over me.

Do you think someone set us up?

I posed the question in the midst of the adrenaline and my confusion, but never revisited it because I was more concerned with my escape and subsequent meet-up with Dad. Now that I hear Lucius’ voice on the other end of what’s supposed to be a secure line, I know the truth.

Our failed heist, the bomb going off, our lack of a getaway vehicle… all intentional. What better way to foil a perfectly executed plan than to have someone sabotage it from the inside? This whole time, I was worried about the police finding me. I feel stupid for not looking inward.

It’s always those closest to you that you expect the least.

“Where the hell is Chet?” I snap. “I swear to God, if you’ve hurt him—”

Lucius clicks his tongue. “Would you relax, Rocky? You know I don’t have a taste for violence. There’s a reason I’m the getaway driver, not the muscle man. Chet’s just chilling out beside me.”

“Let him go.”

“Man, you really don’t understand how negotiations work, huh?”

“Negotiations?” I echo, incredulous. The word leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. If he’s calling to negotiate, it means he intends to use Dad as a bargaining chip. And if he’s using Dad as a bargaining chip, that means Lucius must want something of equal or greater value for Chet’s safe return. The only question is what? What could be worth going to such great lengths?

“The McHale Fortune,” Lucius answers my inner questions matter-of-factly. “I want it.”

I frown. “The f**k are you on about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Rocky. I know you know about it.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. What fortune?”

There’s a brief pause, then, “He never told you.”

Frustration bubbles to a boil in my chest. “I swear to God, Lucius, if you don’t tell me in plain, simple English what’s going on—”

“Your father has been a thief longer than either one of us. I heard rumors. He’s been squirreling away a good portion of each one of his takes for the last twenty-five years.”

I shake my head even though I know Lucius can’t see me. Is it true? Dad never told me about some so-called McHale Fortune, and even if he did, how much—

“We’re talking over thirty million dollars, Rocky,” Lucius provides the answer before I even have time to ask.

My mind reels.

Thirty. Million. Dollars.

Dad’s been in the business a hell of a lot longer than I have, so I suppose it’s possible he’s amassed an impressive fortune. Still, it’s the first I’m hearing of it, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to say or do in this situation.

“Rumors,” I hiss venomously. “You betrayed us because you heard rumors?”

Lucius scoffs. I can practically see the curl of his shitty pencil mustache and greasy black hair. “Obviously I made sure to check my sources, Rocky. I’m not f*****g stupid. While you and the rest of the crew prepared to steal the Picasso, I did some prep of my own and looked into Chet’s financial records. He’s got offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. Several of them. Did he ever tell you that?”

I want to tell Lucius no. Obviously not. This is all news to me, but he doesn’t know that. Judging by his tone, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m in on it —the McHale Family Fortune. If I reveal to him off the bat that I know nothing, I can kiss whatever imaginary leverage I have in this scenario goodbye and my father’s safety along with it.

“Let me guess,” I grumble through gritted teeth. “Dad wouldn’t tell you how to gain access, so you want me to get it for you.”

Lucius chuckles. The sound makes my skin crawl. “I always knew you were a clever girl.”

My stomach flips so hard I think I’m going to be sick. All this time, Dad’s been in Lucius’ custody. I knew I should have set out to find him sooner. I could feel it in my gut. Why did I ever doubt my instincts?

I set my jaw. Lucius doesn’t have to spell it out for me. I either help him gain access to Dad’s offshore accounts or he’ll kill my father. Most people would beg, plead. They’d complain that this isn’t fair, that it’s inhumane. But we’re a different breed. In our world, this is simply a matter of good business.

“So much for honor amongst thieves.”

“You and Chet are the thieves,” Lucius points out. “I’m just the transportation specialist.”

I roll my eyes and snap, “Put Dad on the phone.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Rocky. He’s already got me in a piss poor mood.”

“I want to hear his voice. I need to know he’s safe and well, or I’m keeping the f*****g money for myself.”

It’s a bluff, of course. I don’t give a s**t about the money. I didn’t choose this career because of some innate greed, but because I wanted to follow in Dad’s footsteps to help those who couldn’t help themselves —even if it meant bending the rules or breaking them all together. Laws don’t benefit the less fortunate, after all, but the ones who designed them in the first place.

“Lucius,” I prompt, making sure to keep my voice firm and steady despite the fact that I’m shaking uncontrollably. Whether I’m shaking out of fear or anger, I can’t tell. Probably both.

On the other end of the line, I hear the man sigh. “Fine, fine. Make it snappy. I don’t know how many minutes are loaded onto this thing.”

I hold my breath as I listen to the sound of shuffling. It’s hard to tell what’s going on until I hear the painful riiiip of duct tape.

“f*****g ow!” Dad hisses.

“Dad?” I gasp. “Dad, oh my God, tell me what the f**k is happening. Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell is Lucius talking about?”

“Rocky, sweetheart, we don’t have a lot of time. I need you to listen very carefully. The account passwords are encoded. In order to find them, the path forward lies over your heart.”

My brows knit together into a steep frown. “What? That makes no sense. Just tell me how to gain access to the accounts so I can trade them for you.”

“Don’t, Rocky. Forget about me. The money was always meant to be yours one day. Take it, start fresh, and leave me—”

The sharp crack of something interrupts him. Dad grunts, likely on the receiving end of one of Lucius’ powerful blows.

“Dad!” I cry out. “Dad, just tell me where to—”

“You have until the end of the week,” Lucius snaps.

The line goes dead.

I stand in the middle of the room, seething.

A second later, the phone dings. Lucius sent a grainy image of Dad strapped to a chair, beaten and bloody with a gun pressed to his temple. The threat rings loud and clear.

That bastard!

I take a moment or two to catch my breath. What an absolute mess. I have so many unanswered questions, but I don’t have the luxury of time to mull them over. I’ve been a sitting duck for far too long. I need to find those encoded passwords by the end of the week, or that traitorous son of a b***h Lucius will put a bullet between my father’s eyes.

“Not good news, I take it?” Gabriel asks me.

I jolt. The Frenchman was so quiet and still that I honestly forgot he was in the room. “I’m assuming you heard all that.”

“You assume correctly. You Americans are very loud.”

“I’m heading out,” I tell him.

“What are you planning to do?”

I glance at him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Gabriel sounds almost worried for me. Not that his lack of expression is anything to go by.

“I’ll figure it out as I go,” I mumble, quickly gathering what few things I have.

“I don’t think it’s wise. Failure to plan is planning to fail.”

I sigh, frustrated and stressed out of my mind. It’s a damn good thing I’m so used to working under pressure. Granted, I can normally rely on my crew mates to pick up where I lack but trusting those who I thought were the most loyal amongst us is what landed Dad and me in hot water in the first place.

I offer Gabriel a small smile. “Thank you for your hospitality. I should get out of your hair.”

“Wait.” He grasps my hand, preventing me from taking another step. His palm is rough but pleasantly warm against my slender fingers.

“Get out of my way. I won’t ask again.”

“You could be walking straight into a trap.”

“I don’t have any other choice. My father needs me.”

“You’re not going.”

“You can’t keep me here forever.”

“I owe your father a favor. I need to keep you safe.”

“Well, consider your favor to my father paid in full.”

When I try to move past him, Gabriel easily wraps his arms around my waist and moves like he’s going to toss me onto the bed again. Luckily, I always learn my lesson. This time when I go flying, I grab the front of his shirt and drag him down with me. As quick as lightning, I throw a leg over his hip and use the momentum to spin us around. I end up on top, straddling his lap between my thighs while I give him a taste of his own medicine and pin his wrists above his head.

Naturally, I know he can throw me off like a feather, but he doesn’t. Gabriel instead gawks up at me, the hard bulge of his c**k grinding against my core. The sound he makes satisfies me to no end.

I smirk, a devilish idea popping into my head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he rasps, voice husky and low.

“Playing dirty.”