Except the bastard wasn’t showing up.
Preston checked his watch again. A little after eleven. Yes, yes, he got that Rembrandt would probably prefer a night-time break-in. Who didn’t like the cover of darkness? But this shit was taking too long.
Where is he?
“You followed him after he left the country club?” Preston snarled to the guard in the seat beside him. Jimmy Hayes. Jimmy had been with him for about a year. Jimmy didn’t ask questions, he always followed orders, and he had no problem breaking the law when necessary.Three perfect traits.
“He left in the limo. Went to the high-priced hotel. Hell, Mr. Guidry, there were at least five other limos there when they arrived. Limos come and go all the time at that place.” Nerves cracked in his voice. “We have a guy watching the hotel now, but like I said, limos come and go constantly from the place. The bastardcouldhave slipped out.”
Limos come and go.Which was, no doubt, why Rembrandt had chosen that ride. It was easier to blend that way. Easier to arrive and leave from the hotel in a car like the ones so many others were using.
“Where the fuck are you?” he whispered.
“Uh, boss, I’m right here,” Jimmy said.
Sonofabitch.Rembrandt wasn’t there. And if he wasn’t taking the bait and coming to the house in the Quarter, then…hell.“Get me the fuck out of here,” he snarled to the driver as he grabbed the edge of the front seat. “Take me to Bourbon,now.”
***
“So, how does this work?” Jacqueline asked. She was all wide eyes, soft skin, and sinful temptation as she stood before Remy in a dress that made him want to drool.
Perhaps the dress hadn’t been the best idea. But, oh, it looked good.
He curled his hands around her waist as he pulled her closer. They were on what passed for the dance floor. They’d come into the bar about fifteen minutes ago. The plan wasn’t to immediately jump into action. They needed to blend a bit first. So he’d grabbed a drink. Gotten one for her, too.
Jacqueline had barely sipped hers. He could feel the nervous energy pouring from her. Since they were still in the blending portion of the event, he’d tugged her onto the dance floor.
“Relax,” he urged. “I’ve got you.”
“Even with you holding me, relaxing is a complete impossibility at this point.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “What if I can’t do it?”
“Then you trigger the safe so that the ink explodes. Preston is not gonna get the cash.” One way or the other, they’d eliminate that possibility before they left. “We trigger it, we get the hell out, and then we regroup.” His body swayed with hers. Her scent wrapped around him, tempted, but now wasn’t the time to give in to temptation.
“When do you set the, ah, smoke bombs?” she whispered.
“I don’t. Constantine is taking care of them right now.”
And, as if on cue, gray smoke began to drift from behind the bar.
Shouts filled the air as the people in bar caught sight of the smoke and then…chaos. Remy pulled Jacqueline even closer, he tucked her against his body to make sure that she didn’t get jostled, then he watched as the patrons flooded for the doors.
Again, good thing there were so many doors. The bottom floor was pretty much just composed of doors that had been left wide open. People rushed through them.
An alarm blared from overhead.
As everyone else hurried for the doors, he turned and guided Jacqueline to the back. He jerked open the “Staff” door and entered the waiting corridor.
He also came face-to-face with a tall, overly muscled guy in black. A man with a fierce, angry expression that screamed he was security. Fabulous.
The man began, “What the hell are you—” Then he caught sight of Jacqueline. Or rather, her dress. Her legs. Her—
Remy drove his fist into the guy’s jaw. Apparently, it was a glass jaw, because the fellow went down without even a whimper.
“Is he all right?” Jacqueline cried.
Not exactly. He was unconscious. “You know what they say, the bigger they are, the less likely they can take a punch.” Remy hurried her along that corridor.
“I don’t think anyone says that.”