Free The Con (Men Who Thrill Book 4) by Kaye Blue Page A

angry as I’d been earlier, but Daniel understood what I meant.
    He nodded.
    “Sit tight, and remember what I said.”
    I turned and left.
    Stealing one of Titan Industries closely held and highly valuable secrets was a high-risk, high-reward scenario, and I wouldn’t let the incompetence of someone like Daniel ruin it for me.
    Which left me no choice.
    I’d have to go in.

Chapter Two
    Sixty-Seven Weeks Later
    Clad in my heavy blue work uniform, false name stitched on my shirt, I walked through security at Titan, the anticipation of being so close to what I craved only tempered by the necessity to ensure that everything went perfectly.
    For over a year I’d worked at a temp agency, cleaning office buildings by night and planning for this moment by day. Thousands of hours spent emptying trash and cleaning toilets, all for a shot to end up here.
    I’d been diligent, showed myself as reliable and trustworthy, and, most importantly, anxious for more work, and only after months of toil—and gaining the trust of the woman in charge of assignments—had I finally gotten here.
    They’d given me the night shift, told me that new people started there and had to work their way to day shift. I was practically gleeful. Night was exactly when I wanted to be at Titan, but I’d played the role, seemed slightly disappointing yet ever so eager, smiling inside as the plan fell into place.
    I looked around the eerily silent lobby. I’d never been inside this building, but the interior matched my perception of the exterior. It was bland—bland walls, bland decor, bland everything. But I wasn’t fooled. I knew that underneath, Titan Industries was anything but bland, and soon, it would make me rich beyond my wildest imagination.
    Of course, I needed to do recon first, but I had no idea where to go or what I should be doing, and the security guard, who was building his fantasy-football roster with the intensity of a warrior at battle, would be of no help. I stood for a moment, looking around the lobby, waiting.
    I turned toward the sound of wheels scraping against the smooth marble floor and saw a cart laden with the supplies I’d become very familiar with being pushed by, based on height and body shape, a woman.
    The lobby was dim, so I couldn’t make out many of her features, but I noted what I did see. She was a little taller than average, extremely curvy, curvy to the point that applying that word was generous. She pushed the cart until she reached me, and then she stopped. I took in her face. Average features, on the low-end of attractive, a pleasant face, but topped with eyes that stared at me with, if not quite malice, a healthy dose of skepticism.
    I looked at the patch on her shirt, taking in the scripted name: Ruby. Then I looked at the badge that hung around her neck and confirmed the name. Ruby Struthers.
    And just above the badge around her neck was a key. Curious, something I’d keep in mind. My perusal was interrupted by her voice, which was low, feminine, and surprisingly seductive given her appearance and our surroundings.
    “I’m Ruby. You’re with me. Let’s go.”
    With that welcoming introduction, she began pushing the cart again, and after a few beats I fell in line behind her, making note of her erect posture and sturdy, broad shoulders.
    We walked in silence, the scrape of the wheels against the floor the only sound in the loud hollow halls. And even that was muffled when, after scanning her badge, she pushed the cart down the hallway over carpeted floors. So now there was only the very muffled roll of the wheels, an occasional hum of halogen lights, but otherwise there was silence.
    “Hi. I’m—”
    She turned back and cut her eyes at me sharply, that skeptical expression still on her face.
    “I can see your name on your shirt. You can see mine. That’ll be the extent of introductions.”
    I raised my hands in placation. “Sorry, just trying to be friendly,” I said, following the words with a