Thief of Hearts
Page 49
“Nah, called in a favour from a friend. Need to return it by five. It’s just for appearance’s sake. Renfield will be expecting someone with money.”
“Oh.”
Stu smirked. “You like it?”
“Um, yeah.”
Now he winked. “If we have time later I’ll take you for a little spin.”
My cheeks heated at the insinuation as I led him into the living room where Alfie waited.
“Somebody scrubs up well,” he said, eyeing Stu, almost as surprised as I’d been. A brief thought struck me. Did Alfie find Stu attractive? I realised that even after all these years, I had no idea what his type was. Though in fairness, Stu Cross in a suit had to be everybody’s type.
Okay, so maybe I was a tad biased.
“Right so, let’s get this straight. You two get in and out quickly, no sticking around for a glass of five-hundred-pound Scotch after the meeting. In fact, don’t accept any alcohol whatsoever. I know how these types operate. They’ll be plying you with vodka, all the while there’s water in their glass, and you’re telling them all your secrets.”
“Don’t worry,” said Stu, glancing at himself in the mirror over the mantelpiece. “I’m not Freddy McGonagall. I know what I’m doing.”
“Freddy Mcwho?” asked Alfie, puzzled.
“Freddy McGonagall was my cellmate. Also Britain’s dumbest criminal, though in fairness, he was a junkie at the time, so you can’t really blame him for the dumb part.”
“What was his crime?” I asked, strangely curious.
Stu scratched at his stubble. “He used to take out low-end hits to pay for his drugs. Set out to do a job high as a kite, took a bloody taxi to the location, boasting to the driver all the way there that he was going to kill some well-known gunrunner. In the end they got him from fingerprints on the bullets. Silly prick loads up his revolver with his bare hands then slips on a pair of leather gloves afterwards, wouldn’t want to leave any evidence, after all.”
“Oh my God, that’s so tragic it’s almost funny,” said Alfie.
“World’s full of ’em.” Stu sighed.
“Yes well, we’d better get going,” I cut in, glancing at the clock.
I was antsy to get a move on, even if we ended up arriving early. Really, I just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with. Stu approached me, his gaze soft as he lifted his hand as though to cup my cheek and ease my anxiety. Instinctively I stepped away to avoid it, conscious that Alfie was still in the room. Stu frowned, a brief look of frustration marking his features.
“After you,” he said, voice tight as he gestured for me to lead the way. I grabbed my handbag and went outside, the cool air soothing my frazzled nerves.
“Sorry about that,” I apologised when he opened the passenger side door of the BMW for me. “Alfie doesn’t know about us yet, and I’m not ready to tell him.”
“No worries,” Stu replied stiffly.
My gut sank at the realisation that I’d hurt his feelings. He started driving and I just wanted to climb astride him and kiss him until he forgave me. A pity it’d ruin my makeup. I pulled open the overhead mirror to check my appearance, unable to remember the last time I’d worn so much foundation and eyeliner. It was good though. I looked like a completely different person, unrecognisable from my usual self.
“Stop fussing. You look perfect. Do you remember our story?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m the business manager, you’re the hands on the ground, as it were.”
“Exactly. Anyway, just let me do most of the talking. If we're lucky, Renfield will be too distracted by how tight your blouse is to realise the bullshit I’m peddling.” Now he shot me a smirk, and I was relieved he wasn’t still pissed at me. “Let’s just hope he prefers blondes.”
“Don’t all men?”
Stu shook his head, his expression heating. “Like brunettes myself, always have.”
I blushed and focused on the road ahead. When we arrived at Renfield’s my nerves really kicked in. How was Stu so calm? I found an unopened bottle of mineral water in the glove compartment and knocked back a long gulp. Stu squeezed my knee.
“You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his deep voice reassuring me more than anything else could.
We exited the car and approached the house, where we had to be buzzed in. What I assumed was the modern-day version of a butler opened the door to us, wearing a dapper suit with a red tie.
“Mr Kennedy and Miss Jordan,” the butler greeted in an overly posh accent, using the fake names we’d given. “Mr Renfield has been expecting you.”
“How do,” said Stu, cheekily tipping his imaginary top hat to the guy. Was he seriously taking the piss right now? The butler just about managed to hide his displeasure. I shot Stu a wide glance but he only winked at me. Then I got it. This was exactly how he should be acting. After all, if we were making jokes then we couldn’t possibly be nervous, right? Couldn’t possibly have anything to hide.
We were led into a large study, the walls lined with bookshelves. Renfield stood from his chair and came to shake our hands. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but he looked very normal, like any ordinary fifty-something-year-old man on the street. Though his clothes were clearly expensive.
“Mr Kennedy,” he said, shaking with Stu. “And Miss Jordan, it really is a pleasure to meet you both.”
Stu and I spoke simultaneously.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”
“Likewise.”
A moment of awkwardness ensued, Renfield glancing between us. I plastered on an expression as if to say, happens all the time, and our host quickly moved things along.
“Please, take a seat. Can I offer either of you a drink? A little tipple, maybe?”
I shared a quick look with Stu, both of us remembering Alfie’s warning.
“No, thank you,” I declined, plastering on a bland smile.
“Yeah, I’m good, too. But thanks,” said Stu.
“Well then, I suppose we should get down to business,” Renfield declared, clasping his hands together. “Miss Jordan, I believe you’ll be taking care of planning the transportation and route, while Mr Kennedy here will be doing the groundwork. Now, I have it on good authority that you’re both the best in the field, but can I please have full disclosure? Have there ever been any hiccups in the past? I only ask because the cargo I wish to have transported is very precious to me and I want to know of any possible issues in advance so we can plan to avoid them.”
“Oh.”
Stu smirked. “You like it?”
“Um, yeah.”
Now he winked. “If we have time later I’ll take you for a little spin.”
My cheeks heated at the insinuation as I led him into the living room where Alfie waited.
“Somebody scrubs up well,” he said, eyeing Stu, almost as surprised as I’d been. A brief thought struck me. Did Alfie find Stu attractive? I realised that even after all these years, I had no idea what his type was. Though in fairness, Stu Cross in a suit had to be everybody’s type.
Okay, so maybe I was a tad biased.
“Right so, let’s get this straight. You two get in and out quickly, no sticking around for a glass of five-hundred-pound Scotch after the meeting. In fact, don’t accept any alcohol whatsoever. I know how these types operate. They’ll be plying you with vodka, all the while there’s water in their glass, and you’re telling them all your secrets.”
“Don’t worry,” said Stu, glancing at himself in the mirror over the mantelpiece. “I’m not Freddy McGonagall. I know what I’m doing.”
“Freddy Mcwho?” asked Alfie, puzzled.
“Freddy McGonagall was my cellmate. Also Britain’s dumbest criminal, though in fairness, he was a junkie at the time, so you can’t really blame him for the dumb part.”
“What was his crime?” I asked, strangely curious.
Stu scratched at his stubble. “He used to take out low-end hits to pay for his drugs. Set out to do a job high as a kite, took a bloody taxi to the location, boasting to the driver all the way there that he was going to kill some well-known gunrunner. In the end they got him from fingerprints on the bullets. Silly prick loads up his revolver with his bare hands then slips on a pair of leather gloves afterwards, wouldn’t want to leave any evidence, after all.”
“Oh my God, that’s so tragic it’s almost funny,” said Alfie.
“World’s full of ’em.” Stu sighed.
“Yes well, we’d better get going,” I cut in, glancing at the clock.
I was antsy to get a move on, even if we ended up arriving early. Really, I just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with. Stu approached me, his gaze soft as he lifted his hand as though to cup my cheek and ease my anxiety. Instinctively I stepped away to avoid it, conscious that Alfie was still in the room. Stu frowned, a brief look of frustration marking his features.
“After you,” he said, voice tight as he gestured for me to lead the way. I grabbed my handbag and went outside, the cool air soothing my frazzled nerves.
“Sorry about that,” I apologised when he opened the passenger side door of the BMW for me. “Alfie doesn’t know about us yet, and I’m not ready to tell him.”
“No worries,” Stu replied stiffly.
My gut sank at the realisation that I’d hurt his feelings. He started driving and I just wanted to climb astride him and kiss him until he forgave me. A pity it’d ruin my makeup. I pulled open the overhead mirror to check my appearance, unable to remember the last time I’d worn so much foundation and eyeliner. It was good though. I looked like a completely different person, unrecognisable from my usual self.
“Stop fussing. You look perfect. Do you remember our story?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m the business manager, you’re the hands on the ground, as it were.”
“Exactly. Anyway, just let me do most of the talking. If we're lucky, Renfield will be too distracted by how tight your blouse is to realise the bullshit I’m peddling.” Now he shot me a smirk, and I was relieved he wasn’t still pissed at me. “Let’s just hope he prefers blondes.”
“Don’t all men?”
Stu shook his head, his expression heating. “Like brunettes myself, always have.”
I blushed and focused on the road ahead. When we arrived at Renfield’s my nerves really kicked in. How was Stu so calm? I found an unopened bottle of mineral water in the glove compartment and knocked back a long gulp. Stu squeezed my knee.
“You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his deep voice reassuring me more than anything else could.
We exited the car and approached the house, where we had to be buzzed in. What I assumed was the modern-day version of a butler opened the door to us, wearing a dapper suit with a red tie.
“Mr Kennedy and Miss Jordan,” the butler greeted in an overly posh accent, using the fake names we’d given. “Mr Renfield has been expecting you.”
“How do,” said Stu, cheekily tipping his imaginary top hat to the guy. Was he seriously taking the piss right now? The butler just about managed to hide his displeasure. I shot Stu a wide glance but he only winked at me. Then I got it. This was exactly how he should be acting. After all, if we were making jokes then we couldn’t possibly be nervous, right? Couldn’t possibly have anything to hide.
We were led into a large study, the walls lined with bookshelves. Renfield stood from his chair and came to shake our hands. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but he looked very normal, like any ordinary fifty-something-year-old man on the street. Though his clothes were clearly expensive.
“Mr Kennedy,” he said, shaking with Stu. “And Miss Jordan, it really is a pleasure to meet you both.”
Stu and I spoke simultaneously.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”
“Likewise.”
A moment of awkwardness ensued, Renfield glancing between us. I plastered on an expression as if to say, happens all the time, and our host quickly moved things along.
“Please, take a seat. Can I offer either of you a drink? A little tipple, maybe?”
I shared a quick look with Stu, both of us remembering Alfie’s warning.
“No, thank you,” I declined, plastering on a bland smile.
“Yeah, I’m good, too. But thanks,” said Stu.
“Well then, I suppose we should get down to business,” Renfield declared, clasping his hands together. “Miss Jordan, I believe you’ll be taking care of planning the transportation and route, while Mr Kennedy here will be doing the groundwork. Now, I have it on good authority that you’re both the best in the field, but can I please have full disclosure? Have there ever been any hiccups in the past? I only ask because the cargo I wish to have transported is very precious to me and I want to know of any possible issues in advance so we can plan to avoid them.”
