Knowing that Zoë had stolen or diverted the container didn't prepare Andrés to hear Hayes announce the woman's name. Of course, it was just as he'd set aside the annoyance of Aguilar's call and mastered ignoring her bouncing away in her chair to the beat of whatever was playing in her headphones.

Shit, she was only supposed to find the container, not Zoë. He'd underestimated her initiative. Hayes knowing made her a witness, someone who could speak to motive should he be forced to take more extreme measures. That limited his options for dealing with both her and Imogen.

The hacker leaned back and opened a new window on the screen, pulling up blurry surveillance images of the London Dockmaster standing next to a container. As each one flickered to life another brick was cemented into the wall closing him away from easier options.

The container bore the Surefire Industries logo and a cargo number painted on the side matching that of the missing one. The woman on screen was handing documents and cash to a man in a sailor's cap, and Hayes watched him with a neutral expression. "Does she look familiar?"

Andrés stalked over and glared at the monitors. The shots were grainy and corrupted, but there was Zoë, directly involved in fucking up his business. He couldn't deny it now; asking where Hayes had heard of the woman made it obvious he knew of her. Backing out now would only put Hayes on edge all over again. "She does. London Dockmaster. Shit." He propped his chin on his fist and looked at the floor, trying to think his way through the snarl.

Although Zoë had practically promised to do exactly this, he couldn't believe she would be so stupid. Her hot-headedness had probably inspired it and her pride had driven her to make it personal. He should have guessed. It was part of his job to predict the actions of his opponent. You're getting arrogant, Marin. Having all the pieces doesn't mean others can't find a way to play.

Even more annoying was the fact that stupidity saved her life. Her demand for cash and allying herself with Imogen made her a threat. Threats were eliminated. An underling he could have handled, sending a forceful message and avoiding paying out two million pounds. Zoë herself was publicly tied to him and harming or killing her would implicate himself.

Irritated, Andrés scanned the rest of the evidence Hayes had uncovered. Thorough, as usual, and her initiative suggested she would make an excellent employee, even if it was an inconvenience now. He just needed to figure out how to ease her into the business when she'd already expressed concerns.

Then there was the other side of the picture. Aguilar had ranted at length about the amount of bullshit he was being asked to put up with from Zoë, Bruno, and Imogen as he arranged the first of the deals for IQ Security's use of the containers. The call that had interrupted Andrés's first kiss with Hayes had been in a tone that suggested Aguilar was one step below his breaking point.

Given that Zoë's attitude had boiled Andrés's own cool temper, he wasn't inclined to punish his number three for the outburst. Something had to give and it would have to be his opponents.

The catch was that he needed Hayes on board.

Baby steps, he reminded himself. He couldn't placate Aguilar today, but he could take the evidence Hayes had gathered and have Zoë arrested or forced to step down as London Dockmaster. If this had been done before Imogen's threat then nothing in the container was illegal, only sensitive and highly regulated, so Zoë would gain nothing by blabbing to the police.

She might still do it out of spite. Imogen owns the cops but they can't afford to be too publically corrupt. Andrés glanced at Hayes, wondering whether he'd made an ally of her yet. A complaint against Zoë would be more legitimate coming from an independent source, not one connected to him or his company. If he could convince her to turn in the information, Hayes would be tied a little bit more closely to both himself and Surefire while nullifying Zoë.

The question was whether the hacker would go along with it. She'd come to him rather than going to the police with a credulous murder threat, after all. "Would you be open to turning that over to the authorities?"

She had started doing chair spins while he considered his options. When he started speaking, her toe dragged the whirling chair to a stop. After a long, evaluating stare she replied, "Sure, as long as it can be anonymous. I don't like cops. And like I told you, I think your peeps are on the iffy side of things. I'm not trying to get dragged into their shit. I don't even know where you fit into the story, other than recruiting down-on-their-luck hackers and directing whoever to take care of murder threats under the table."

Her gaze was too piercing to match her casual tone. For a minute, Andrés wondered if she was going to be a problem and if so, what he would do about it. Killing her was out of the question; she was too valuable a resource.

And you like her, a traitorous little voice whispered. She's smart, capable, independent, and you haven't ever wanted to fuck someone this badly.

That aside, if she couldn't be brought to trust him and his organization, he'd have to neutralize her. He could see her targeting Surefire Industries as easily as she had IQ Security and KAP, and Trace Technologies before them. He'd worked too hard building up his company to allow her to interfere.

Everything was shifting too fast for Andrés. Having his private security team bust up a drug lab and save an immigrant family was one thing. Dealing with Imogen and Zoë had him thinking of killing multiple times just in the last ten minutes.

Not that he had a problem with murder. No, it was the fact that he was ready to fall back on skills he'd set aside to become a businessman that bothered him. He'd promised Chi he was done with that life and he'd meant it.

The sudden stillness with which Hayes watched him told him he'd been quiet too long. Somehow she could read him almost as well as Cillian could, sensing the threat in him and responding directly where others would miss or dismiss it.

Andrés forced himself to smile, pouring every ounce of charisma he could into it. Win her over, or you'll have to consider her a risk. He didn't want to do that.

She blinked and tilted her head slightly, appearing mildly fascinated by his transformation but not at all intimidated. There's the other thing you like about her. She sees you, but she's not really scared of you.

He refused to believe she was stupid, so either she was even more naive than he'd thought or she'd encountered men like him before. He made a mental note to go back through her dossier more carefully; it wouldn't do to underestimate her more than he already had.

The silence had dragged on a little too long. Where were we? Oh. She's not sure where I fit in the puzzle.

"I told you already. I'm a consultant. A fixer, to put it bluntly, but you already know that."

She didn't react, watching him with flat, dark eyes.

"Sometimes it helps to have someone who can operate outside the usual channels, that's all." With a shrug, he added the part he thought was important to her. "As long as we do good work, everyone gets paid, and nobody gets hurt, right?"

She kept looking at him, a long, evaluating stare, before abruptly rising. "Right. Of course." She reached for her bag and said, "Well, I guess that's it. I'll see you around. Let me know when to turn that info over and who needs to receive it. You've got my number now if anything else comes up."

A peculiar feeling shot through him and he took a breath, started to speak, then stopped. He had more work in mind, but given today's events he didn't know if he should push her, or if he'd be able to entice her over again, especially if she had time to go away and think about things.

Sometimes, leaving a mark too much time to think meant losing the mark. He had a feeling this was one of those times. Hayes was too intelligent. If he was going to make a move, it had to be now.

"We should go for a drink since you're not working tomorrow," he called to her back, trying to keep his tone casual. Hayes turned to study him again and he resisted the urge to straighten from his slouch against the desk.

"I'd like that," she said after a pause, the hint of a smile on her full lips. Then she fixed him with a glare, one eyebrow raised. "Especially since you ditched me with the tab at Foxtail, you ass."

Andrés smirked. He'd done that on a whim, to see what she'd do, and he was glad of it now even if it had put him solidly in the asshole category for both her and Ren. "Did I? Doesn't sound like me."

Hayes snorted a laugh. "I don't believe you."

The smirk became a cheeky grin as he let himself relax into the banter. "Maybe I'm lying. Maybe I'm not. Either way...come on, nena. Let me make it up to you."

She snorted, rolling her lips together to hide a laugh and he some of the tension in his shoulders eased. Cillian and Chi were the only two people he could really relax around, and with Chi undercover and Cillian working all the time, it had been a while since he'd taken a night off.

Making Hayes laugh was a small victory, a feeling he chalked up to taking another step toward securing her interest. Besides, what would it hurt to test the waters? The almost-kiss flitted through his mind. The brush of her lips had been soft and her body firm. He wanted more of her. All of her, really, but he'd settle for a proper taste to start.

"Where to, then?" she asked.

He strode to the door with a spring in his step, opening it and ushering her out ahead of him with a casual hand on the small of her back. "The dancers' wardrobe, first. The leather trousers are perfect, but we need to find you a nicer shirt and shoes that aren't motorcycle boots."

"What's wrong with my boots? You taking me somewhere fancy?" she asked as he guided her down the stairs and through the crowded bar. With nightfall upon them, scantily-clad dancers shook their chests and swung their asses in the cages that lined the walls, and they had to push through a heavy throng of people.

Nodding to Cillian, Andrés led Liv down the back hallway, entering a different room than the office where the safe was. "Yes," he replied. "Or at least fancy enough that they'll have a dress code. I told you, I'm making my earlier indiscretion up to you, with interest. Call it a thank you for the second chance."

She laughed some more, this time at herself, when he got her down to the dancers' dressing rooms and tried walking in the shoes he had Nina pull out for her. "Ooooh, no," she said to the first pair. "Hell no. What are those, twenty-centimeter heels? Nope. Try again."

Nina frowned, her perfect brown brows pulling together to leave a dimple in the middle. "Who can't —"

"Nina," Andrés warned. The hostess rolled her eyes but went back into the lost and found box.

Hayes winced and mouthed, "Sorry." 

He shrugged. If she was humoring him, they'd find lower heels.

The next pair were also rejected, and the ones after that, until Nina came up with a pair of sparkly black slingbacks with a mid-height heel. Hayes eyed them dubiously but held a hand out to accept them as she tugged her boots off with her other hand. "The things I do for a night out," she muttered, sitting on the couch to strap on the shoes.

"I'll make it worth your while. Promise," Andrés said in a low voice. Nina glanced between the two of them, her frown returning, but said nothing. The number one open secret at Perdition was that he'd been with Cillian once upon a time, and if Cillian didn't have a problem with Andrés taking Hayes out, nobody else would. At least, not out loud.

With a huff, Hayes stood and took a few steps. Her ankle turned in the deep, plush carpet, and Andrés darted forward to catch her arm. Nina hid a smile but didn't say anything as he guided Hayes to the practice stage at the back of the combination dressing/waiting room. She wobbled up the stairs and scowled at her feet.

Nina shook her head and smoothed her hair, tucking a blue lock behind the other woman's ear and sighing at her ineptitude. "I'll take it from here. Come on, sweets. Like this."

Hayes was a little hopeless, but it was weirdly endearing to watch the motorcycle-riding hacker concentrate on taking normal strides in heels she was obviously not accustomed to wearing and make fun of herself while doing so. The fact that she was making the effort simply because he'd asked her out was...nice.

Why does her being silly make me feel good? He pushed the troubling thought aside and went to the rack of spare clothes to find her a shirt. It wasn't important. Certainly not next to how good she'd look on his arm in her borrowed outfit.