Hard Risk by Sidney Bristol
Chapter Two
“I hear you’re taking a trip to the States?” Chancellor Hugo Bernat swirled the amber liquid in his glass.
Daar Suleiman paused. It was only a slight one, but it spoke volumes. “Yes. That is correct, Chancellor.”
“How is that brother of yours?”
“Still an idiot.”
No pause.
Daar never had hidden his resentment for his younger brother. Hugo found their relationship interesting. In Daar’s shoes, Hugo would have quietly taken care of his brother ages ago. Instead, Daar allowed Cassim to continue being a nuisance and a liability.
“We need to discuss expanding in that direction. Your brother could be useful,” Hugo suggested.
Daar snorted. “Not likely. Tell Cassim a secret and within a week everyone will know it.”
“Is that so? I find that surprising given your… History?”
“Yes, well, even an idiot like Cassim knows there are some things you don’t talk about. He knows to keep his mouth shut if he wants to remain comfortable in this lifetime.”
“If only your brother had your discretion.” Among other things.
Hugo had made it a point to meet Cassim and asses the man himself once. Daar didn’t know. There were a great many things Daar didn’t know, but this one mattered very little. In the span of half an hour, Cassim had divulged no less than three critical points of information to Hugo.
What a waste.
Skilton had always avoided needing to do business in America. He’d been so crafty about it, blackmailing a number of federal agents, but never committing their efforts there. But with Skilton gone it was time to consider doing things differently.
“Do you have any other plans while you’re away?” Hugo asked.
“Is there something you’d like me to do?” That was Daar. Getting to the point.
“Look for Skilton. See what you can find.”
“Do we really believe they captured him?”
Hugo said nothing.
Skilton’s absence was problematic in so many ways.
This union of power worked because of Skilton.
With him possibly in custody, the whole organization was threatened. Hugo had calmed nerves thus far, but for how long? How long until Daar and others like him withdrew their support and struck out on their own once more? If Hugo couldn’t promise them their identities were protected, it would all fall apart.
He needed to handle Skilton. Make sure he could never talk.
And then Hugo could fill the vacancy with someone a little more obedient.
Skilton always had thought too much of himself.
“Chancellor?”
“Hm?” He lifted his gaze to the screen and Daar’s blurry form.
“I am loyal to you.” He stared back at Hugo. “I know what the others are saying, and I’m here to tell you that I am still loyal. Tell me how I can help?”
Such a statement of faith took Hugo by surprise. Did he trust Daar’s words? What were the chances Daar was tricking him?
That wasn’t his way though.
Hugo remained quiet for several moments, weighing the situation. “Find Skilton. Kill him if you can. The sooner we do that, the better.”
Daar inclined his head.
If he could do it, he would.
“Good night, Chancellor.”
Wednesday. Harper’s Safe House, New Orleans, LA.
Harper held the shirt up and stared at it with a critical eye. Normally he’d call it done, but he had a feeling Robin was a woman who expected perfection. He couldn’t have wrinkly shoulders with her around.
“You’re never going to get it smooth that way,” Samuel Jenkins said.
Harper narrowed his eyes at the other man. “You think you can do better, pops?”
Samuel returned the critical look. They were about the same age if Harper had to guess, but he liked messing with the straight-laced guy. Samuel could be so uptight.
“I know so. Give it,” Samuel said.
Harper stopped himself from turning away from the FBI agent and let him pull the shirt from his grasp.
To be fair, out of everyone on the Task Force, none of them had Samuel’s flair for style. He showed up to the office every day looking like he’d just stepped out of Sunday church in a trendy orange or blue or red suit with all the accessories. He took dressing in style to another level. Harper was lucky if he wasn’t forced to wear the same suit two days in a row.
Samuel arranged the shirt then carefully began swiping the iron over it in short strokes.
“Who taught you to iron like that?” Harper asked.
Samuel paused, iron in hand, and leveled a steady stare at Harper. “My daddy. He said that for a Black man to be taken half as seriously, we have to look twice as good.”
Harper nodded and another piece of the puzzle that was Samuel Jenkins fell into place.
“Expecting me to say, my mama?” He arranged the shirt on the ironing board, pinching and pulling the fabric just so.
“Grandma. You seem like the type to have a big, tight-knit family.”
“Nope. Just me and my daddy growing up.”
Harper took that in. He’d realized about a day into this job that he didn’t know Samuel or his partner half as well as he thought he had. Hell, Harper had been just as surprised as everyone else to find out back in December that Samuel’s partner, Baruti, was not only gay but married with kids. And none of them had been the wiser.
Harper didn’t like that. He didn’t like not knowing the people he worked with. Which was why he was actually glad Samuel was in charge of this op. Supposedly Baruti would be joining them after some much-needed time off to be with his family. Harper hoped they were done with the job by then. He didn’t want to have to fool Robin for longer than necessary.
“You ready to talk about tonight?” Samuel asked.
Harper sighed. “Haven’t we been over it enough?”
“Just because it went well yesterday doesn’t mean it will go well tonight.”
He watched Samuel work his magic with the shirt, erasing any trace of a wrinkle.
“You are a magician,” Harper said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Let’s see how you look first. She still might not let you in the door. You look a mess.”
Harper snorted and slid the shirt on. He seriously doubted Robin would turn him away. He’d been nervous in the beginning and yeah, he’d used a few too many lines, but he’d got her laughing. And from there it had been natural.
“Your dad still around?” he asked as he buttoned up the shirt.
“Yes. He just remarried and moved to Chicago.”
“Chicago? No shit? I lived there for a while.”
Samuel regarded Harper a moment longer. “One of my step-sisters has a heart defect, and she qualified for a program there that might help.”
“That’s great that she’s getting help. Think she’ll be okay?” Harper got the feeling this wasn’t something Samuel shared with just anyone. Not that Harper could blame him. They’d worked together almost a year and knew squat about each other.
Samuel lifted a shoulder and cast a critical gaze Harper’s way. “Gives her hope. I can’t say how it’ll turn out, but at least she’s living her life. You really should have those pants taken in a little.”
“Seriously?” Harper looked down at himself. He’d gone out with Jamie to buy the damn clothes. Harper hadn’t expected his best friend to lead him wrong. “I just get what I’m told.”
Samuel held up a tie. “You’ll pass for tonight. We’ll want to get you some better-fitting clothes if you’re going to be around the rest of the family. You need to look like you belong in their circle. You do know how to tie this, right?”
“I think I can manage.”
He tossed the subtly patterned material at Harper.
“Samuel, relax.” He slid the tie around his neck and let his hands work the magic. “Tonight is just about her. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“What sorority was she part of?”
“She’s a Tri Delt. She did a lot of fundraising for cancer research. Her social circle is still mostly her sorority sisters. Despite how her father likes to play it, their family fortune came from her mother’s chain of motels and hotels. Her mother—now there’s an interesting lady—was an advocate for illegal immigrants and refugees. She went out of her way to employ displaced people. Her business has thrived after her death in large part to the man currently running things, who happens to be an immigrant from… Shit. Africa. Civil war?”
Samuel’s brows rose as if he were surprised. “Burundi. He’s originally from Burundi.”
“Damn it,” Harper muttered.
“Cool it.” Samuel passed Harper a lapel pin that would double as a listening device. “No showboating.”
He sighed and fixed the pin on his jacket. “I’ve got this.”
Samuel passed a critical eye over Harper’s clothing. “Make sure to keep the jacket on.”
He frowned at the other man. “What? After all that work, I have to keep it on?”
“If you take your jacket off, how am I supposed to hear you, dumb ass?”
Then what was the point of all that ironing?
“Fine.” Harper groaned then checked the time. “Got to go. Hope we put on a good enough show for you.”
“No showing off,” he called after Harper.
Seriously, Samuel needed to relax. Harper was taking a beautiful woman on a date. That was it. There would be no milking for information tonight. Just more establishing trust. Besides, he doubted they would talk about employees at all. It was random information crammed in Harper’s head.
More than anything, he needed to remember that this was a job. Not a real date. Robin was a mark, someone he needed to use to get to the big fish. He’d feel guilty about it later, not now.
There had been times yesterday afternoon when it was difficult to recall that he wasn’t talking to Robin for his own benefit. This was work. And yet, another time and place he would have liked to have spent time with Robin just for himself.
He did feel a little guilt at deceiving her. Only a little. If he’d learned anything this last year working with the Task Force, it was that sometimes they had to do unsavory things. If Robin’s uncle really was who Zora said he was Harper couldn’t make room for guilt.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled the car along the street in the heart of the Garden District with its stately old homes.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he muttered eyeing the homes.
It was one thing to understand that the Garden District homes were where the wealthy lived. It was another thing to see it. The old, stately homes were from another era. He found it hard to believe he’d have anything in common with people who lived in homes like this.
He almost missed Robin’s house number because he was so engrossed in admiring the buildings themselves.
Robin’s family home was one of many antebellum-styled buildings. It was two or three stories with lots of columns and balconies. More wrought iron framed the place along with trees that had to be close to a hundred years old at this point.
He eased to the curb.
There wasn’t really anywhere to park.
Harper muttered a curse and slid in front of a fire hydrant. It wasn’t legal, but with any luck, Robin was ready to go. Just to be safe, he texted her to gauge how safe it was to leave the car for a few moments.
Her reply was immediate: omw out!
Not quite perfect. She could very well take issue that he hadn’t come to the door. He should have planned better.
He unlocked the car and got out. At the very least he’d open her door for her.
Heels clicked on concrete. He glanced up and his body forgot what he was doing.
“Hey,” Robin called out.
“Look at you.”
Seriously.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She looked as though she’d been poured into the gray dress. It was conservative in a way, with long sleeves and a high neck that had some sort of slit going on, but he was willing to bet every eye tonight would be on her. Yes, the skirt was maybe a little on the short side, showing off her long, shapely legs, but it was the fit that was sinful. How it molded to her body, turning shimmery then matte with how she moved, was captivating.
“Wow,” he said as she stepped onto the sidewalk. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
She lifted a hand, covering her mouth, but he heard her chuckle. Her mirth was short-lived.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice was tight with emotion. “I should have told you to come around back. There’s never anywhere to park out here. Really sorry about that.”
“Hey.” He reached out and took her hand and the rest of the world faded away. “You look stunning. They might arrest you for taking my breath away like that.”
She chuckled and pushed at his shoulder. “Stop.”
Her smile and the bashful way she couldn’t quite look at him said to keep going.
Harper lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Are you ready to steal the show?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Ready and starving.”
Damn this job. Why did he have to take her out for work? It was a crying shame, really.
He helped Robin into the car, shut the door then returned to the driver’s seat. That done, Robin plugged in the address for the restaurant, and away they were. The street was busy enough to make conversation difficult as they wound their way toward their destination. Which was fine because he needed to have a little mental talk with himself.
Robin was not matching up to the socialite profile he’d been given. She didn’t party or go out like Zora had led him to believe. Maybe that was the case during her undergrad, but not now. She was responsible, intelligent, and utterly gorgeous. Unfortunately, he didn’t see a way to get close to her and not cross any boundaries. She wasn’t juggling men. She was focused on family. If he wanted to get close to Daar, Harper would have to get very close to Robin.
He was going to hurt her. For this to work, there was no way around that. He wasn’t sure how far it would have to go, but he knew he’d hate himself when this was all over with. But that was the price to pay to stop Daar’s people. Given the body count thus far of just their own people, Harper couldn’t back down.
Which made this all the more difficult.
“This should be us,” Robin said pointing to his next turn.
The restaurant wasn’t that far away from her house. Hell, if they’d both been wearing sensible shoes he might have suggested walking.
There was nothing sensible about the way Robin had dressed. Or maybe there was?
It was difficult to look at her and his brain not short-circuit.
Everything from just above her knees to her collarbone was covered, save for a narrow, plunging slit cut down the front of the dress. It showed off nothing but the rarest glimpse of skin underneath. Truly maddening. He didn’t want to look, and yet his gaze was drawn back to her at every light.
If he was going to break her heart, he could make her feel like a queen for now.
“Here we are,” Robin said.
Harper pulled up to the valet. He was quick enough on his feet he even made it around the car to help Robin out himself and was treated to the sight of her long legs.
She was nothing like what he’d expected her to be. Nothing at all. And that was more than a little dangerous.
“Thank you,” Robin muttered as he assisted her up the few stairs to the restaurant.
Whatever this place was, it was so upscale there wasn’t even a sign out front.
They stepped through the doors and into a gleaming waiting area. Men in suits manned a leather-covered booth. He was acutely aware of the slick marble floor in his new shoes. Red velvet benches sat by the wayside, but no one made use of them.
This did not appear to be the type of place that catered to people who did things like wait.
Robin led Harper forward, all the way to the leather booth.
“Suleiman for two,” she said with a sweet smile.
The two men attending the books glanced down with similarly wide-eyed stares.
Did Robin have a reputation?
Please say it wasn’t so.
“Is there a problem?” she asked sweetly.
“Oh, no. One moment, please?” the older of the two men asked.
Harper glanced from the men to Robin. What was it about her that had the two sweating bullets?
“What seems to be the issue?” she asked again. Her tone was still light and pleasant, but there was an underlying edge there.
The two men looked at each other.
Harper could practically see them drawing lots to figure out who got to fall on the sword this time.
The younger one drew in a breath.
It was his time.
“I’m very sorry, ma’am. It appears there was some confusion. You see, there were two Suleiman parties booked tonight and—”
“Robin? Is that little Robin?” a man called out.
Robin turned from the attendant lightning-quick, while Harper was still processing it all. She gasped in delight. “Uncle Daar?”
Harper turned, not quite believing his ears. Had he just heard her right?
He turned, mindful that his lapel pin microphone was pointed straight at Robin and the man greeting her with a familiar hug.
There weren’t many pictures of Daar Suleiman. Harper really had thought the man would be taller. Daar was probably five-eight or nine without the shoes giving him some added height. He had a wiry build like a man still used to exercise. His hair was mostly silver with shots of black running through it and the patch of hair on his chin. The man’s complexion was weathered and lined, as if from the elements. There were no smile or laugh lines. He did not seem like a man given over to laughter or humor very often.
Harper’s brain zipped through the details.
Two Suleiman bookings.
The arrival of Daar Suleiman.
This was awfully coincidental.
It worked in Harper’s favor, but it also made the skin between his shoulder blades itch uncomfortably. Was Robin up to something? Had he just been used here?
“They’re telling me there was some confusion and my reservation got canceled,” Robin said with a dramatic sigh. She turned and caught sight of Harper. “Uncle, this is my date, Harper Gonzalez. Harper? This is my uncle. He’s in from out of town.”
Daar Suleiman’s dark gaze slid up and down Harper’s body before he extended his hand. Daar didn’t radiate warmth like Robin did. He was cool, assessing, everything Harper would expect from someone who more than likely had a finger in Skilton’s pie.
He took Daar’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
Robin leaned in close and said softly, “Harper helped me yesterday with Saaina’s dogs.”
Harper barely heard her, but that didn’t matter.
Daar’s eyes widened and his grip on Harper’s hand tightened. “And they didn’t tear you limb from limb? Good man.”
“It was a close call,” Harper said gravely.
Daar clasped Harper’s hand between both of his now. Whatever it was about the dogs, it had just changed Harper’s standing in Daar’s eyes.
Interesting.
“Sounds like the only thing to be done is for you two to join us,” Daar said.
Was he fucking serious?
Harper could feel sweat breaking out under his arms. Was Samuel listening now? Was he ready to shit himself the way Harper was?
Tonight had been about building a relationship with Robin to learn more about her family. The last thing Harper expected when he’d set out was to actually dine with the family in question.
“I don’t know,” Robin said slowly. “I didn’t even know you were getting here today. Dad only said you were getting here this week.”
Daar finally released Harper’s hand and patted Robin on the shoulder. “Come. Save me from boring conversation.”
Daar moved past Harper.
Robin glanced at him and shrugged. “This wasn’t how I pictured tonight going.”
Was it though? Was this really all coincidence? Or was Harper being paranoid?
He wished he could talk to Samuel right fucking now.
“It’s fine.” Harper grinned at her. “It’ll be interesting to meet the little hell hound’s master.”
Her face creased with concern. “Are you sure? My family…”
“Hey?” He took her hands in his. “It’s fine. I come from a big, in-your-business Mexican family. How bad can it be?”
Of course, his family wasn’t into illegal activities on the global stage.
“It’s just…” She tugged on his hand and edged closer. “Look, Dad and Uncle Daar… They come from a different culture.”
“Yeah, where?”
“Syria.”
“Well, maybe we’ll have something to talk about?” He lifted a shoulder. Time to tout his own accomplishments. “I spent a little time in Syria. I think I get what you’re saying. Look, your family doesn’t represent all of who you are. Only where you came from.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay. Just, don’t take anything they say too personally, please?”
He took her hand in his then gave it a squeeze. “You got it.”
Harper was in no way prepared for this. Of course, he’d read everything they had on both Daar and Cassim Suleiman, but he hadn’t studied it like he had Robin. He’d thought he had time. At this point, it felt as though he hadn’t done a single bit of prep work.
Together Harper and Robin stepped past the leather booth and into the restaurant proper.
Daar stood in an alcove big enough to fit a circular table. White, gauzy curtains were pulled back but could be released to create a truly private dining experience.
The man turned and waved to Harper and Robin.
And here their biggest worry was that they’d get all their information through Robin. Harper was about to sit down with their target for a meal.
How did this happen?
It still seemed too coincidental to be real, but maybe it was past time for them to get a break. He also wouldn’t put it past Zora to have some inside information she hadn’t shared with him. In fact, that was classic Zora.
Damn this job.
“Mr. Gonzalez and your daughter are joining us,” Daar said as Harper reached the table.
“Mr. Gonzalez?” Cassim Suleiman looked much like his older brother, only with some added weight and less hair.
Harper was quick to offer his hand to Robin’s father. “Mr. Suleiman, a pleasure.”
Cassim blinked several times at Harper.
Daar elbowed his brother.
“Yes! Yes, a pleasure.” Cassim quickly shook Harper’s hand before his gaze slid to Robin. “Excuse me. I’m not accustomed to my daughter introducing men.”
“We only met yesterday,” Harper said.
Daar lowered into the seat next to his brother. “Not to split hairs, but I introduced him.”
“I see,” Cassim said with a slow nod. That distinction seemed to appease Cassim. He glanced over his shoulder at his wife, Robin’s stepmother, then back at Harper. “You helped with the dogs. That’s you? Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Cassim waved at the table. “Sit. Sit!”
There was more than enough room for both Harper and Robin to slid into vacant seats across from the other three.
Shit.
Would the mic be able to pick up the conversation? They’d planned for an intimate dinner, not a family affair.
Harper’s hands grew sweaty, and he prayed Robin didn’t notice.
Cassim glanced at his wife while turning his body toward Daar. Cassim spouted off in Arabic, “Please don’t tell me she’s pregnant.”
Harper swallowed slowly.
Cassim had no idea that Harper could understand him.
Daar ignored his brother’s words and instead focused on Harper. “Mr. Gonzalez—”
“Harper, please, sir?”
Daar inclined his head. “What is it you do?”
Ah, questions Harper could answer in his sleep.
Cassim didn’t elaborate on his dread, which was a relief. Both Daar and Cassim were curious about Harper’s security consultant cover story. They asked questions, picked his brain a little, but never said much about themselves. And they never—not even once—spoke to Robin nor her stepmother.
It was as if there were only three people at the table, not five. And Harper didn’t like that.
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Robin and found her absently drawing circles on the tablecloth. He reached over under the cover of the table and took her left hand in his, giving it a squeeze.
Was this what she’d meant?
Given the little she’d said about the dogs and her stepmother, he was beginning to get the big picture.