Boulder (Riders of Apollo #5)

Chapter Nine: Riley Everett

I spent the whole of yesterday getting my hair and nails done. It didn't actually take as long as I was out for, I just wanted to give them ample time to go through my shit. I knew it was coming when Saviour saw the envelope so I hid away everything they don't need to see and left out everything else.

I'll admit she's good at making it look like she hasn't done a thing. Everything is back in it's place perfectly but now I have three bugs here so can no longer take phone calls from my boss in my own fucking flat. I have to text him everything and the tech department told me that they've tried hacking both of my phones.

I wish I could've seen their faces when the malware exploded their computers, thinking about it is good enough for now. I've spent today going through all my files, I need to know where to strike first. I know I'm going to be the date of an underboss, don't know what he looks like, what his name is or what he does but hopefully tonight I'll be able to figure out some sort of hierarchy.

I slip into my dress and my heels before tucking my phones into uncomfortable places along with my blades. My gun will set off metal detectors but my blades are ceramic so no one will know I have them until they're in someone's neck.

I did my makeup earlier when I had the energy and I've straightened my hair to frame my face better. I hide away all of my important stuff before leaving the apartment and locking the door, even though locks don't really mean much in this town.

The Impala is back this time, both Saviour and her husband Reign are in it. I'm kind of sad that Boulder's gone. Don't get me wrong, Saviour is extremely attractive and so is Reign, like if they offered I wouldn't say no but Boulder is just... whatever, irrelevant.

When I get to the gorgeous house, two hours later, a valet comes out and takes the car. I manage to find Monsieur Pontiac rather quickly and he greets me enthusiastically. His large hand landing on my ass. The annoying thing is this guy isn't particularly unattractive. Tall, board, harsh bone structure, dark eyes and well trimmed facial hair, he also always wears a suit which just gets a woman going.

"This is your date tonight, Mr Barbeau." Monsieur Pontiac hands me off to an older, rounder guy with a cool moustache and three piece suit.

"Bonjour, mon cherie." (hello, my dear) I smile shyly and accept his hand, he begins parading me around as expected and he talks the entire time in French. Now, Miss Ivan - the alias I am currently operating under - doesn't speak a word of French but Miss Everett - the well trained, international operative - knows French very well.

I catch the names, most of them being relatively low on the totem pole but I keep a memory of everyone he introduces me to. After hours of boring ass conversations - yes hours - and a few glasses of champagne on my behalf and an entire bottle of scotch on his, he sequesters me away up the stairs to one of the bedrooms.

Just as he's about to get hot and heavy with me, the idiot passes out from the alcohol. I laugh softly and throw him onto the bed with practiced ease. My dad was a drunk and weighed a lot, I've been lifting men this size since I was twelve. I start digging around his things, my mask still in place as I wrap my hands around a large, leather bound book.

I swear every single freaking criminal group uses leather bound books to store important information. They should keep it in one of those pink plastic diary things that little girls have when they're kids, no one would think to look in there. Nothing important jumps out at me except large transfers from an account under a Monsieur Durand, I gather that he's the next step up from whoever this dickhead is.

I watch the big guy sleep for a few minutes before ruffling my appearance a little bit and tucking the book away where it came from and head back down to the ball to find Monsieur Pontiac. "How did it go, darling?"