My Sinful Valentine (A Beautiful Sinners Collection) by Elena Reyes (black authors fiction .txt) 📕

I look forward to those instances. They make my job all the more interesting.

“Noted, and lead the way.”

“You told her where to meet Dad in case of...?”

“Gem knows everything.” There are no secrets between my wife and me. She’s aware of my every move, and I hers.

It’s an obsessive trait we both share and embrace.

My cousin nods and turns toward the elevator, pressing the button to go down and then pulls out a small remote. He turns the small device in his hand twice before tossing it at me. “This is for the cameras on this floor. You have them blocked, no?”

I nod, taking in the small key-fob-like gadget. It has three buttons with the larger of them being red and at the center. “The hotel’s security is circulating the feed from last night; I paid them handsomely for their discretion and compliance. Inside, though, my own devices are on. Everything is being recorded.”

Callum snorts, shaking his head when his phone pings. He doesn’t look at it, though. “Did this compliance come with a threat attached?”

“Would I be me if it didn’t?”

“Touche.” Looking back at me, he nods at the device still in my hand. “That will send you a direct feed of this door. Add it to the app dashboard that Ezra set up on your mobile... it’s my Valentine’s gift to you.”

“Very thoughtful, love.”

“Piss off.” His answer comes in the form of flipping me off a second before a ding announces the arrival of our lift. We step inside and head down toward the parking level attached to this building where the guards accompanying us wait inside of a black Range Rover with dark windows.

No one talks inside the SUV. He’s in his head and I attach the new security system to my app’s dashboard. It clicks on after a minute and the door to our suite flicks on, showing the lack of movement.

What Ezra did comes with a motion sensor, and I make sure it’s turned on before pocketing my mobile. The drive isn’t long to the dock. The view of the large port comes into focus, and Callum hands me a small stack of papers as the driver parks.

These two work for him. I don’t know them personally, but I’ve heard enough about the Collado brothers from Spain, and their bloody reputation suits my brother’s requirements; killers without a conscience who are loyal to those who pay, and well.

Once a contract is signed, nothing can break it.

“Read it and tell me what you see,” Callum says. His tone of voice is serious, more than I’ve ever heard before, and I nod. Right now, he’s not my younger cousin but a boss, and I respect this sudden change in demeanor.

Nothing will fuck up a job more than lack of focus.

Scanning the first sheet, I take in the artifact’s picture and the estimated worth on the black market. Those numbers are high, very high, and will attract two things: thieves and heightened security. Possibly Interpol.

The second sheet has the schematics of what section it will come in through and how many employees are on shift tonight. It’s delivery and removal from the freight will need manpower, even though the object itself is no bigger than a tall vase. However, they have this thing packed tight and inside multiple boxes and crates with foam padding covering every inch to avoid any sudden movements during transport.

The last, though, is the one that matters, in my opinion: the thief in question.

These pictures depict a person no taller than five foot five and thin, no muscle build beneath the all-black clothing. Then, there’s the black demon’s mask hiding all facial features, but there are two things that are easy to pinpoint: long brown hair, and a small tattoo I’ve seen before. Flipping to the next picture, immediately I notice it’s an entirely different physique, not overly muscular, but male this time and the hair is a bleached blond with dark roots and the makings of some kind of washed-out blue color.

“Two different people here. A couple?”

“Possibly.” Callum scratches his jaw, leg shaking. A nervous trait. There’s something he isn’t telling me, and my eyes narrow. “Don’t give me that look, Casper. I need your help to confirm my suspicions.”

“Okay.” He wants my trust. I will, but Lord knows I’ll shoot him too if anything goes south due to incompetence. “You know the risks attached to your request.”

“I can’t let her get hurt.” Those six words change everything. Callum has never been a man to chase a woman, much less care about the well-being of anyone outside those in our family. “I’m asking as your best mate. If she’s involved, I need to get her the fuck out.”

“Done.” Placing the papers aside, I hold both palms up. “The right one means in and out without incident. The left is we tear the bloody place apart and walk out with everything, and this time it includes the artifact they are here to steal.”

“This one depends.”

“On the why?”

“On what it means to her.” Enough said for me. I remember when I stalked Gem—when I dropped everything to see her or step in when she needed me—Callum was there, no questions asked. “You in?”

“I’d never let you go in alone, wanker.” The car stops a few seconds after I answer, and we’re behind a stack of old containers for shipping overseas—the area seems empty, devoid of security, but I know better. At once, I spot someone’s flashlight skimming along the ground not far from here and I roll down my window, aiming for their direction. “Ours, or not?”

A low whistle greets my ears, and beside me Callum snorts. “Ours. It’s Archie.”

“He’s a good lad.”

“A little psychotic too.” Four doors open, and we step out onto the port.