Torn (Deep 8, #5)

9. Roger

NINE

Roger

Mysterious layers of my azure-eyed muse deepen with every passing moment, weaving a captivating tapestry of emotions. Unanswered questions linger purposefully, as I yearn to uncover the truths myself. In her tale, I find echoes of my own pain, forging a connection binding us in unknown ways.

Making my way to the front of the cabin, I settle next to Harlow, who scribbles a list of essential items we’ll need for our undercover mission. Her two-page list has the potential to be the price tag of the plane.

She hands it to Sean, and he hands it to Pippa. "I have no clue what any of this is."

"Whoa." Her eyes widen as she examines the list. "The price tag on this will be more than all our salaries combined. How on earth are we getting these things by the time this bird touches down?"

I hold out my hand. "Let me take a look at it. A friend of mine is a discreet concierge for the elite. He can procure these items without raising eyebrows." The list reads like a catalog from New York’s fashion week—Chanel, Givenchy, Versace, and Lou Vuitton among others.

Harlow gazes out the window as I put her hand in mine. "I can’t wait to hear about the stories your tattoos tell. The clothes don’t define the person; they merely unveil glimpses in certain circles."

Turning to me, she adds, "If you know a concierge in Luxembourg, I’m not the only one with a story to tell. We must blend into those circles without friction and be bold and beautiful. The clothes will show us off and hide us at the same time. It’s the perfect disguise."

My lips touch the warmth of her hand, and I notice the remnants of her previous life in her French-manicured nails. We chase the puzzle pieces but the only mystery I want to solve is in front of me. At each turn, her colors shift giving me another view of who she is.

Her cheeks blush and her hand slips from mine. I pull my phone from my pocket. "Henri? C’est Roger Bane."

I move to the back of the plane and continue to speak to him in French. Harlow’s list is extensive, but he says he’s up for the challenge. He’ll bring everything we need in a box truck to the tarmac. His fee will be well worth it.

While speaking with Henri, memories resurface, bringing back a time I buried long ago. My father was always the man about town, and I was the scrawny kid who lived in his shadow. Many of my friends had fathers with big egos and a lot of clout, so we hung out together to escape the pressure of not being good enough.

"I’ve booked you in a suite at the Sofitel," Pippa informs us.

"Where is the safe deposit box we need to get into?" I ask.

"Western Bank de Luxembourg," she replies.

"Can you book us the most expensive suite at the Hotel Le Royal? It’s closer to the bank."

Sean rolls his eyes. "Who’s picking up this tab?"

"What about the bag of money we took from the safe?" Harlow inquires.

"Every dollar will get donated to feed the people in Afghanistan," Sean answers without hesitation.

"As a member of the PAX op team, we each get a black card that will cover everything on the government’s dime." I smile.

"Good, because I’m going broke just listening to this," Sean says gruffly.

"You’re going to need backup for this. I don’t see this as a two-man operation," Mac offers.

"The only thing we have working for us is the bank is in one of the older buildings. Pippa and Peter need to get the schematics and the layout of the buildings around it. Can you and the rest of the team be on standby?" I request.

Mac glances over at Sean. "Sean needs to go back to be with Jess. We don’t want him to miss the birth of his first child. The rest of us can hold up somewhere close by."

"I might be able to arrange a house in the hills. You’ll have a beautiful view and keep your eyes on the prize," I recommend.

Pippa clears her throat. "You know we have a royal among us."

"Love, now is not the time," Beck replies.

"If they can get close to the duchess or make contact, they could get a formal introduction through the King of the Sai tribe. This might be the only way to see her and get the key to the safe deposit box," Pippa states.

"You’re seriously a king?" I’m astonished. He nods. "We’ll keep you in the loop and see where this goes. But as plans go, this is as good as any."

My shoulders relax a bit while a million things run through my head about how this needs to go down. Every op has its kinks, and this will be no exception. Harlow’s worried eyes haven’t left the window.

The plane lands and we’re greeted with a weathered box truck, its contents important to our mission. Henri hops out and greets me with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. I introduce him to everyone until his eyes land on Harlow. Her hair is still in a ponytail and she’s donning large sunglasses.

"Enchanté. Ta beauté est incommensurable." He kisses her hand.

Pippa walks down the stairs with her red hair flowing in the wind and Henri gasps and covers his mouth. He showers her with French compliments. Pippa smiles as he kisses her hand and looks up to see Beck standing behind her. He drops her hand like it’s on fire and steps back.

Beck leans down. "You have a thing for redheads. So do I." His baritone voice is wrapped in a crisp British accent as he smiles.

"Henri, my friends need a place to stay in the hills. We need eyes on the center of the city. Do you know of anything?"

"Oui. I can arrange something, no problem." He claps his hands together.

We make quick work of unloading the truck onto the plane. Harlow picks out an outfit, grabs the makeup bag, and disappears to the bedroom in the back of the plane. Pippa oohs and aahs over some of the items and wiggles her brows at Beck as she packs them into several suitcases.

"Sweetheart, your Boo doesn’t have that kind of money," he quips.

"But you’re royalty." She pouts.

"In name only." He pulls her in for a hug and a long kiss.

Pippa lets him go and stares at something over my shoulder. Harlow enters in a flowing baby-blue dress with a scarf around her hair and a pair of low heels. There is a flip at the ends of her hair touching her shoulders. Her flawless appearance accentuates her best features.

From behind me, I hear Henri, "Mon dieu, tu a ressembles Grace Kelly."

She ignores his comment. "Do we have the diamond rings?"

Pippa hands her a box with the rings in it. She opens it and holds it up to the light. "These are fake. Fake is not going to fly in Luxembourg. People can spot cubic from a mile away. Henri, where can we get quality diamond rings?" Her back is straight, and her hands are clasped at her waist. I’m not sure she’s playing a role.

I don’t need to translate for him. English is the second most spoken language in Luxembourg.

"House of Diamonds," he replies.

She holds her chin up, puts on her oversized sunglasses, and floats down the stairs. We exchange looks but no one says a word. A limo waits for us at the bottom of the stairs. The chauffeur opens the door for Harlow like she is a queen, and she slides in with the most grace I’ve ever seen.

Dean slaps me on the shoulder. "Good luck, mate. You’re going to need it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

"Your words are less than comforting right now. I may be begging for mercy in no time."

The team laughs as they follow Henri to his truck. Sean heads back to the plane to return home. I force myself to move toward the limo as the chauffeur loads the mountain of luggage in the trunk. The door shuts and the curve of Harlow’s calf catches my eye. Her foot is tapping a mile a minute. There is something sexy about a well-dressed woman, especially one as beautiful as Harlow.

"I take it you’re accustomed to high-end fashion. You wear it well."

She takes off her glasses and turns to me. Her mouth is turned down and sadness emanates from her eyes. "Trust me, it’s exhausting," she confesses and, in that moment, I vow to rewrite the narrative of her past, weaving a new chapter with a happier ending.