It took a few days for the legal team to get the unusual contract together but Andrés had it ready by mid-week. Of course, Sod's Law dictated that Imogen chose two hours before Liv was due to arrive to go off about Zoë's arrest and escalate her threats, and he texted Cillian to ask if his friend could entertain her briefly while he handled it.
Imogen hadn't just gone off; she'd suited words to action, sending her dirty cops to carry out a retaliatory raid at one of his business properties in a forceful attempt to pressure him into rejoining her operation.
Chi would be discovered any day now and Andrés had no illusions about the fallout if she was accused of being a mole. Liv's brother had gotten an easy deal compared with what would happen if Imogen caught a spy.
He would have to strike back decisively and more quickly than he'd planned. There was no time to plan something subtle and elegant. Negotiations were not going to happen. Imogen was too power-hungry and too undisciplined, spiteful, and cruel.
There was no way around it. The mob boss would have to die.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Andrés sighed and gathered his thoughts, trying to find another way out. He'd done all the damage control he could. Liv's stolen data would have to clear Zoë from the table, minimizing the spread of damage. He hoped the trail would be followed to Imogen, but even if it was, she owned the cops. No charges would be pressed.
This is the only way.
It would take a few days, maybe a week to orchestrate the hit, He'd have to carry it out personally. Aguilar would probably be on board, and one or two of his direct reports. There might be enough time to glean something useful from Liv, if whatever she'd found in her hack hadn't put her back on her guard.
As he stepped out into the light and noise of the club, he let it all wash over him and carry his concerns away for the time being. Liv was here, he could see her bright teal jacket and motorcycle helmet at the bar. Cillian was entertaining her personally, throwing in a wink at the end of whatever he was saying, and Andrés bounded down the stairs.
Excitement bloomed in his chest as she spun on Cillian's cue and spotted him, eyes lighting up as they landed on him. A few weaving steps through the crowd brought him to her and he stepped between her legs, holding her still so that he could kiss her.
Cillian thumped a tumbler of whiskey on the bar in an obvious attempt to get his attention, his face set in stark disapproval. Shit. What were they talking about?
Liv beamed up at him when he released her and he found a smile for her as well, especially when she said she'd missed him.
He'd missed her too, but Cillian's odd look bothered him. "Why don't you head on up? I need to settle a tab before we get to business." Her eyes narrowed as she glanced between the two of them, clearly not buying it, but she headed upstairs without a word.
"You haven't told her the truth about who you are or what you do," Cillian said flatly when she was out of hearing range.
Andrés shrugged, annoyed that he was being called out on something that was already bothering him. "It's not the right time."
His friend stared at him. "At this rate it will never be the right time. You've never seen anyone as regularly as you've been seeing her. You've been an intolerable, grouchy fuck while she's been off doing whatever these last two weeks. Now you're adding to your business relationship. But it's not the right time?"
Scowling, Andrés snapped, "This isn't your concern. Stay out of it." Damn him for using his bartender's tricks with her.
With a barked laugh, Cillian replied, "You know, I'd forgotten that as charming as you are, you can be a right cunt sometimes. The lass is head over heels for you in spite of your bullshit and —"
His friend stopped in his tirade, catching the fear that flitted through Andrés with some unknown tell in his face or body language. "That's it, isn't it? It's nothing to do with timing. She's sweet on you, and you know it. No, there's more than that." Cillian studied him with narrowed eyes, his green gaze stony. "Fuck me. You think you love her, or you could do if you stopped being such a frigid bastard."
"That's enough," Andrés broke in, stung by the man's barbed tongue and trying to find the words to deny his analysis. Unfortunately, Cillian was dead on target with every single observation. He went with deflection instead. "Imogen needs to die. I'll sort her out, then I'll confess."
With a disbelieving shake of his head, Cillian replied, "Falling back on your old tricks, hey? Well. Tell Liv soon and hope she doesn't find out on her own, or it will all go tits up with a bang before you can say, 'Glitch'."
Andrés didn't bother replying, snatching his whiskey and downing it before storming off. Cillian was right and there was nothing to say about it. The words echoed in Andrés's mind as he climbed the stairs back to the private room.
You haven't told her who you are or what you do.
Falling back on your old tricks, hey?
It will all go tits up with a bang.
His friend was right, of course. But how was a man supposed to go about telling the person he might be falling in love with about a life like his? Andrés had a feeling that, "Liv, you should probably know that I was Imogen's top enforcer and a then an independent hitman before becoming a multi-millionaire businessman," wasn't going to cut it. A few illicit hacking jobs did not make her the kind of hardcore criminal that he had been – and would have to be again to resolve the issue of Imogen in time to save Chi.
Did she really need to know? Couldn't he just be Andrés Marin, independent consultant? Or maybe he could just tell her about his role at Surefire and leave out the rest. It had been years since he'd been a hitman, and longer still since he'd been one of Imogen's toughs. He'd been good at contract killing, making enough of a fortune that he'd been able to start Surefire Industries and go legitimate, but the long-term survival odds weren't good.
If Andrés was anything, he was a survivor.
Schooling his face to neutrality, he went into the private room. Liv was spinning in the chair, head back and hands clasping the arms as she kicked it into faster rotations. Doesn't the bloody woman get dizzy doing that all the time?
"All sorted?" she asked, tilting her head to keep him in view as the spinning slowed.
He forced what he hoped was a carefree grin. "Yes. You know how I am with tabs," he quipped, hoping to get her thinking about the time he'd stuck her with one and off the topic of what he might have discussed with Cillian.
She pressed a black motorcycle boot into the floor to stop the chair fully, eyes sharp on his face. A small frown creased her brow. "You looked worried."
It was a little disconcerting how easily she read his expressions sometimes. He'd been trained to be a chameleon, blending in and becoming whomever he needed to be to get a job done, but she always saw more than most.
He tried to brush off her concern. "Work. We're having some trouble with a competitor." It was true. Imogen was determined to be a royal pain in his ass.
After another few seconds of study, she smiled understandingly and rose, coming into his arms. Her breath tickled his chest where she stuck her nose into his shirt, not bothering to be subtle as she breathed in his scent. The simple goodness of embracing her, feeling tension run out of her as he held her close and rubbed a hand gently along her spine, was too perfect to risk.
He couldn't share his secrets. Not yet. Soon, maybe after Imogen was taken care of, but not yet.
Decided, he let the worry go and leaned away just enough to lift her head with two fingers under her chin. Her full lips were deliciously soft as he kissed her, and his cock reminded him that it had been denied her attention for two weeks. He kept the kiss short, sensing the moment was still delicate and not wanting to push himself on her.
Truth, a bit of truth. "I missed you," he said, the words feeling foreign as they left his mouth. He'd never really missed anyone, not since he was a child, in any case.
A mischievous light sparkled in Liv's gaze. "Me, or the sex?"
It was a fair question given the hardening semi pressing against her, but he owed her honesty in this at least. He considered her, seeing not just physical beauty but the spark of the bright mind shining through her gaze, the hint of emotion she was trying to hide behind her retort.
"You," he decided, remembering the thought he'd admitted to himself after that quarter bottle of rum the other week, and meaning it.
Her expression turned serious, and the part of him that feared commitment sprang to the fore. "I got used to your fucking bouncing and chair spins while you work," he said, trying to back away from giving too much of himself away. "Nothing to force me to stay focused if you're not around."
Liv settled at that, a good-natured laugh bubbling from her before she said, "Well then. Let's get that contract signed and bring some focus back to your life. Where would you be without work?" He grinned and kissed her again, excitement rising at finally corralling the skittish hacker and securing her for his company.
After a quick review of the contract on the tablet he handed her, she took the stylus and signed. I've got her. Surefire will be an information powerhouse. Right now he dealt in physical goods, but he knew data – and the information and secrets it held – was the path to true power. Power to rebuild London's underworld to his preferences, curb some of its excesses, and secure his legitimate future.
Unable to hide his satisfaction, he asked, "Excellent. When can we begin?"
Liv surprised him by fishing a hefty portable data drive out of her satchel, holding it up for him to see. "Right now. If your offices are still open, I can courier this over personally. It's only a little bit, but I figured you'd want to test the goods, so to speak, as soon as possible."
The smallest hint of doubt flashed across her face when he kissed her and replied, "Perfect. You know me well." What was going on in her head? She'd returned, but clearly with reservations despite signing the contract. Not so naive anymore, are we?
In a way, it made her more desirable. Inexperience could be trained. Natural intelligence and curiosity was something a person was born with and had to choose to use and develop.
Although it would mean more trouble for him in the short-term, her increased scrutiny also gave him the challenge of proving himself. He knew himself well enough to admit that had she stayed naively trusting, he would have grown bored of her eventually. He needed an equal and her suspicion told him she could be that person.
"Do you want to come? I have a spare helmet in the locker on the bike. We could get something to eat after?"
He glanced at his phone. Good, no new developments in the day's Imogen crisis.
"I guess it is almost dinner time. Hmm. Alright." After the day he'd had, a bit of normalcy would be refreshing. Normalcy. You don't want normalcy, you want more of her, he corrected himself.
Her smirk when she handed him the spare helmet warned him of the kind of ride he was in for, and he wasn't disappointed. Traffic, pedestrians, lanes, and signals meant nothing to her, judging by the way she deftly wove through or avoided anything that would require her to stop. A low thrum of terror raced through him since he wasn't in control, despite the fact that he'd been the same way when he'd had a motorcycle years ago, but he trusted that she wouldn't crash them.
He had to. It wasn't like he could stop this ride. Nor did he want her to think him a chicken shit.
As he settled into solid ground, he swallowed his nausea and teased, "You drive almost as insanely as I used to."
Liv's face was eloquent in its blankness as she said, "And here I was driving carefully."
He snorted a laugh, thinking they'd need to have a street race one day if that was the case, and led her inside. "Come on, let's drop this off and go eat." He fully intended the double entendre that curled her lips in a smirk.
At the desk, he asked for Carlin or Aguilar, wanting to deliver the data directly to one of his directors. Aguilar appeared a few minutes later, and Andrés shook his head from his position behind Liv's shoulder. The man took the hint, ignoring him and gruffly accepting the data drive.
"He's fun," she snarked on their way out.
Andrés chuckled. "He can be. Shall we go...eat?"
Liv laughed, lust sparking in her eyes as she settled her helmet back on, visor up. "Let's," she returned, tongue running over her lips suggestively. "I'm hungry." The way her eyes traveled over him left no doubt that she too was skilled with double entendres.
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