Part One here
Part Two here
Part Three here
Part Four here
Client, Caroline, a client. Who wanted to take you out to dinner. Oh, this was definitely going to be a problem.
“It’s not mine,” Klaus said with a soft noise of derision. “While I suppose there’s always a chance he could have gotten a lucky shot in—” The tone of his voice made it very clear how low he thought that chance was, “—Joseph is more used to money laundering and computer work than any kind of finesse with a weapon.”
“So you do know him,” Caroline stated.
Klaus dipped his head back and forth. “Tangentially. He worked for a friend.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “A friend?”
He nodded, looking unconcerned. “Of the family.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, gun held at a careful angle, she turned to regard him coolly. “And how much is this information going to cost me?” If he even would give it to her. Klaus might count his friends rarer than any other currency. Sometimes friends were all you had in this life.
“Nothing but the rest of your evening.” When she scowled at him, Klaus grinned. “Well, if you want to know why he wants you dead—and believe me if his henchman is here, dying for the cause, he wants you dead—we can simply go ask him.”
Exasperation shot through her. “Seriously? That sounds like an excellent way for me to actually, you know, wind up dead.”
He put out a hand and gently pressed two fingers against the skin of her arm above the crook of her elbow. It sent an odd little shiver through her that nearly made her jump. “Sweetheart, I will be right there by your side. I’ll ensure he listens to you, and you walk out of there unharmed.”
“Can’t I just, like, Zoom call him from the safety of my computer?” That was not a whine, she was not whining. Clearly, her plan made more sense.
Klaus looked down briefly as if to keep the smile this elicited from his face, but no, it dimpled his cheeks and lit up his eyes in the most alarmingly attractive fashion. His fingers traced a path around the back of her arm, then curled gently around her biceps, thumb rubbing against her skin. Maybe it was what he thought was soothing, but god, it was just making her hyper-aware of him touching her. Was her face being normal about this?
Well, she’d wanted his hands on her: be careful what you wish for.
“—The way things are done,” Klaus said, because shit, he was talking about the actual problem at hand, and she was obsessing over the surprising smoothness of his hands. She could appreciate a man who moisturized, but later. “Besides that, he’ll be in his club at this hour, where he conducts most of his business, and not in front of a computer.”
“You could call him?” Caroline suggested grumpily. There was something smug lingering in the corners of his smile, and she didn’t like it.
“Answering your mobile in a club, love?” The look Klaus gave her in askance was probably earned but obnoxious nonetheless.
“Texting?” She threw up the hand not holding her gun in irritation, dislodging his hand from her arm.
He pulled back his hand and rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, eyes trailing down her simple work blouse, skinny jeans, and ankle boots. “I don’t suppose you have anything here you could wear to a club?” Clearly, he was ignoring her suggestion.
“Hold on, you want me to dress up? Just who are we going to go see?” Caroline had been flipping through her mental Rolodex of known Klaus associates—her files always were too spotty about him, he was notoriously private and there were more question marks than anything—and she couldn’t think of any with nightclubs.
Klaus looked amused. “I suppose I should ask, just in case: you haven’t sold any information regarding Marcel Gerard recently, have you?”
