Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 03 - Insatiable Read Free

I?”
    “You always have a choice, Sydney.”
    “Shut the fuck up.” I heard Carlos move in the bedroom and retreated toward the kitchen lowering my voice. “I trusted you.”
    “I know, look, I thought I was doing what was best at the time. There was no other way.”
    “No other way? How about just let it happen the way I wanted.”
    “You did get what you wanted. He’s dead. You killed him. Without Bobby I never could have gotten you where you are now.”
    “What?”
    “Wait, what are you talking about?”
    Mulberry didn’t know that Jessup was dead when I got there which meant that… “Do you work for Bobby Maxim? Is our agency affiliated with Fortress Global Investigations?”
    “He didn’t tell you.”
    “I guess he figured that was your job.”
    “Sydney, I’m sorry. I wish there was some way to say I was sorry enough for you to understand.” I didn’t answer him. There was no point. “I love you, Sydney, you’re my best friend.”
    “Friends don’t do this Mulberry.” I felt tears burning in my eyes. “Friends do not-” I cut myself off knowing I couldn’t make it through without crying. Deep breath in and then out.
    “Sydney-”
    I hung up. Holding the phone in my hand I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on what I needed to do. There was a text from Bobby Maxim with a phone number telling me to call when I was ready. I touched the number.
    “Took longer than I thought,” Bobby said.
    “I don’t want a pardon,” I told him. “I want Joy dead.”
    “Dead?” I could hear a smile on his lips. “But why?”
    “You don’t need to know anything more than what I want. If I get this girl back for you, I want Joy’s body to end up somewhere. I want the manhunt to end and I want those idiots on that site to know that she’s not coming. Joy Humbolt is dead.”
    “Long live Sydney Rye.”

A GAME OF SORTS

    Within 24 hours I was at the airport waiting for a man. We were flying to Mexico pretending to be husband and wife. The missing girl, Ana Maria Hernandez Vargas, was the daughter of a senator and a very successful businessman. They didn’t want anyone knowing they’d lost their precious little bundle so my new partner and I were playing a game of sorts.
    People moved between the rows of seats under a soaring ceiling of metal beams and glass. Outside, planes taxied, took off and landed. The bright sun glinted off their wings making me squint.  
    Several times I saw tall men with sandy blonde hair and sat forward, but as they approached I realized it wasn’t my new partner. Blue sat on the floor, his head hovering above my knee. He kept his one blue eye and one brown focused on me. Every move I made he calculated if it was a request of him.
    “Hello, darling,” a man said behind me. A light kiss brushed my neck. Blue stood and raised his hackles. With a small wave I told him to lie down. What kind of a wife has a dog that doesn’t trust her husband’s touch?
    “I missed you, Peter,” I said, and smiled as the man stepped to my side.
    “I missed you, too, Melanie,” he smiled at the alias. Peter Franks was really Blane Nichols, head of all operations in Mexico for Fortress Global Investigations. Blane was tall and well-built, his eyes were a murky green, the same shade as well-worn money. He was young for his position and I wondered what working with such an ambitious man would be like. I crossed my legs and he watched the slit in my skirt open and close.
    “It’s good to see you, too, Fluffy,” Blane said to Blue, then reached out to pat his side. I laughed. No one but Melanie Franks, wife of almost billionaire Peter Franks, would name a dog like Blue “Fluffy.” Fluffy was an emotional support animal allowing him to fly. According to the file Bobby Maxim sent me, Melanie had anxiety that only Fluffy could ease.
    Usually when I travelled with Blue, I flew private. That’s one of the upsides of stealing millions of dollars worth of treasure, you get to fly on whatever