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She didn’t disappoint.
A Cerberus vault? No way you cracked that. You cut your way in, didn’t you?
Damn, he really liked this woman’s sharp brain. He liked everything about Jet “Hex” Adler. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met, and such a refreshing change. He liked her brain, her fine hacking skills, her sharp tongue, and her small, perfectly formed body.
Fuck. Get your head in the game, Cavanagh.Nothing ever distracted him from his work. Nothing.
Distractions got you killed.
Besides, he had no fucking right to mess with a woman like Jet. Sure, she understood his world and his work. Hell, she understood him, and that was rare. He was used to lying and manipulating to keep his country safe. He was used to never standing still, never caring about anything or anyone but his work. He was used to never being himself.
No, there was no way he would care for Jet.
He’d have to settle for poking at her from afar.
He slipped out of the building. Outside was a warm, balmy New Orleans evening. He heard laughter from a bar close by. He was on the edge of the trendy Arts/Warehouse District.
Cain hit the sidewalk, pulling on his backpack. He kept his stride loose and easy. Just a regular guy out for an evening of fun.
He turned a corner. A block down, there were more bars and restaurants. Gold neon caught his eye. There was a sign above a set of beaten-gold double doors. The nightclub was called Ember, and there was a long line of people waiting to get in. The pub beside it was doing brisk business, as well.
He knew the club, the pub, the restaurants, several warehouses and buildings, hell, the entire block, were owned by the Fury brothers.
Cain approached Ember, heading straight for the front of the line. Two big bouncers saw him and tensed.
Someone grabbed his arm. He glanced sideways.
A blonde woman in a glittery silver dress standing in the queue smiled at him. “Hey, can you get me in?”
“No, sorry sweetheart.” He pulled his arm free.
Her gaze ran up and down his body. She fluttered her fake eyelashes. “I’ll make it worth your while, hot stuff.”
“Another time.” He turned back to the bouncers. “I’m here to see Dante.”
One spoke into a mic attached to his shoulder, then nodded. “Go in.”
Cain entered the club. It was like descending into luxurious sin.
The decor was all black and gold. He passed through the lavish entry and into the main club space. A huge bar glowed gold, where an army of bartenders worked to keep the crowd watered. The ceiling also glowed gold, covered in a sea of gold flowers.
Servers darted across the space with trays of drinks, all of them decked out in shimmery, gold halter tops and black trousers.
He approached the back of the club, skirting the busy dance floor. Huge, gold urns decorated the length of the wall.
Ahead, a door opened, and a man stepped out.
He suited the interior—black tailored pants, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and black ink visible on one forearm. His hair was jet-black, and way past needing a cut. A dark beard covered a strong jaw, and his eyes looked black as well.
Dante Fury spotted Cain and jerked his chin up. Then he waved at the doorway. Cain followed him through into the back area of the club.
There was less gloss back here. Here it was employees only, where the real work got done. Back here, the music was muffled, and offices and storerooms extended off a long hallway. This was the work center of the busy club. Cain passed a security room with a wall of screens, and several black-suited guards monitoring them. He was unsurprised that Fury ran a tight ship when it came to security.
Fury and his brothers were not always on the right side of the law, but they had a code. They were known for helping those who needed it. The five of them were more than capable of going toe-to-toe with the New Orleans underbelly.
Dante led him up a set of stairs and into a spacious office.
There was a large black desk with a laptop on it, and a black-leather couch against one wall. Three paintings hung on the wall behind the desk—they all looked like gold swirled through black ink.
