Sydney Croft - ACRO 03 by Seduced by the Storm

Author:Seduced by the Storm [Storm, Seduced by the]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER Sixteen

ML’s car was a vintage Aston Martin DB9—he put the convertible top up and the heat on in deference to the fact that Wyatt and Faith had been in the water and both were shivering in their damp clothes.

Of course, Wyatt wasn’t exactly happy at having to squeeze his tall frame into the small back of the car, but ML had insisted Faith sit up front.

"What does ML stand for?" Faith was asking Wyatt’s friend—a man he’d known since his earliest ACRO days. One of the few people who knew Wyatt wasn’t dead. He was a do-anything and get-anything guy for his friends, which was a skill set Wyatt always appreciated. There were the usual rumors surrounding ML, everything from him being a direct descendant of the Rockefellers to the illegitimate son of Elvis.

"You do look a hell of a lot like Elvis," Wyatt had remarked to him once. ML had just smiled, the way he was smiling at Faith now, that surfer-dude, I-don’t-have-a-care-in-the-goddamned-world smile that got him more ass than a toilet seat. "Doesn’t stand for anything."

Wyatt bit his tongue—because the only thing funnier than the fact that ML was actually an escaped Amish farm boy whose name was Moses "Mose" Lapp was that his initials spelled out his profession—money launderer.

ML was the best in the game. He was thirty-two, and his empire stretched wide. Even his enemies weren’t true enemies—ML had too much dirt on anyone for them to bother to mess with him. No, everyone from the Irish Mafia to the Colombian drug lords needed ML, and that was fine by him.

"I don’t know how long we’ll be staying with you. And we’re going to need a ride out when we leave," Wyatt interrupted before ML could take it too far with Faith. Who was periodically shooting Wyatt death rays—and what the fuck, he was the one who was pissed.

"Not a problem. I suggest waiting at least twenty-four hours, though," ML said as he pulled through the front security gates. His mansion was on Marco Island—an exclusive area off the Florida coast. For the most part, ML refused to travel with bodyguards—he was wearing a Sig Sauer, the one Wyatt had given him a few years earlier.

ML also had a flair for numbers that was almost inhuman.

"How’s your sister?" Wyatt asked as they entered the revamped Spanish villa–like mansion.

ML shrugged. "She’s doing her own thing. I haven’t seen her for a while—she’s still a little wild."

"Yes, she’s the wild one of the family." Wyatt rolled his eyes.

"You guys can have the west wing," ML told them. "Plenty of privacy, and I’ll send extra security that way. Not that you’ll need it." He stared at Faith for a second. "I assume you’re, ah, special too, right?"

She smiled. "I’m going to need a safe."

"Not a problem. I’ll find you some clothes too, for the night—tomorrow I’ll have some stuff brought in new for you."

They followed him up the winding staircase and long halls. While ML took Faith into one of the bedrooms, Wyatt purposefully went into another and headed for the phone.

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