My heart squeezes. I’d been trying to find some other way to come up with the cash. Any other way. So I staked out a local check-cashing shop to see if I could get the money that way. Their security was too tight, but the florist shop next door would easy as pie. I’d breeze right past those poinsettias and rich red roses to the register.
However, they wouldn’t have nearly enough money on hand.
“I was busy,” I say, walking my fingers up his broad, firm chest. “But I’m here now.”
He isn’t fooled by my misdirection, but he doesn’t remove my hand either. That’s something.
He closes his eyes, frustrated and something else. “I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. I wish you’d let me help.”
Oh sure, that would be great
. Please help me steal fifty thousand dollars from a man who would never stop hunting you down.
No, he’s too much of a Boy Scout to steal a penny, no matter how much I need it. No matter how much he wants to do the dirty things his dark eyes promise.
“You can help me by taking me into a VIP room,” I whisper, pressing my body close. Technically there’s not supposed to be naughty business in those rooms since we’re a burlesque show, but some girls still break the rules. I wouldn’t mind breaking them, to throw him off my tracks.
Wouldn’t mind the extra cash.
And I wouldn’t mind getting up close and personal with him.
My hip brushes against something hard and thick.
Ooh, very nice.
I know that I’d be able to distract him in that room, Boy Scout or not.
His eyes glaze over, and I know he’s contemplating what we could do in the VIP room.
“I’d make it good for you,” I whisper.
He shakes his head as if clearing it. His hands grip my hips, pulling me in close. “No, Bianca. When you come for me, it won’t be because you want to distract me. And it sure as hell won’t be because I’m paying you.”
I manage a laugh that sounds hollow to my own ears. “I didn’t take you for a cheapskate.”
His eyes sharpen. “Is that what you need? Money?”
My breath leaves me in a rush. He hit a little too close to home. I do need money, but I doubt my Boy Scout has a big stash of cash. Not after making shit money in the military for years. Ivan pays well, but he’s only been here less than a year. Only illegal, shady shit like the things Maisie and Jeb are involved with could produce that kind of money.
I drop my voice. “You have no idea what I need.”
His fingers tighten briefly on my hips, and surprise flares inside me. So the tamed wolf has spirit after all. Heat forms between my legs, the suggestion whispering through me—what it would be like if he let go.
I force the thought away, because this can only be a means to an end.
“Bianca,” he says, his voice thick. “Don’t do this.”
Panic flares, because he can’t know what I’m going to do. Can he? There’s no way he can know. He only means pushing him away. That’s all. “I’m not doing anything. You’re the one who can’t stop being so damn…” So damn sweet. So damn sexy. God, I can’t stand him. “So damn
good
all the time.”
His lids lower. “Is that how you see me?”
“That’s what you are. A Boy Scout.”
His smile comes slow and almost lazy. “And you want to see how bad I can be?”
A shiver runs through my body. The truth is that I like him this way, honorable and kind.
I just know he’s not made for me. He’d turn away from me if he knew all the things I’d done in my life, all the cons I’ve helped Maisie and Jeb pull off. It won’t matter anyways, because whether West remembers my nervousness or not, whether he suspects me or not, I’ll have to run. I can’t stick around and risk Ivan finding me out once I’ve stolen from him.
Which means tonight is my last night at the Grand.
The last time I’ll see West.
I let something drop—the pretense, the act. When I lean forward, it’s just me. Bianca. No transaction, no trade. Just a gentle kiss of my lips to his, fleeting warmth, a promise unfulfilled.
“No,” I whisper against his lips. “Don’t change. I like who you are.”
Then I turn and walk away, leaving him in the dimly lit hallway, the swing of my hips a silent goodbye.
I
t may seem
weird that someone who had committed a felony by the time I turned six would like to knit. The truth is that I learned to pick locks using knitting needles—the circular ones are perfect for small pins and little hands. Plus, throw in some yarn and the whole thing looks innocent, even if your bag gets searched. Of course since then I’ve moved on to more elaborate picks and hooks, professional tools of the underground trade. But I always keep needles, and a skein of yarn, in my bag for luck.
I tighten my hold on the fraying leather straps, trying to get into the right headspace.
Except I can’t get into the headspace where I’m cold and calculating.
All I can think about is West.
The Grand looms ahead, almost glowing against the pitch dark sky. It looks like a fortress, impenetrable. When I started working here a year ago, security was had been about big muscles, shiny guns, and a bad reputation. Very few people would have dared to steal from Ivan’s pet business, and anyone too high to know better would learn their lesson quickly once his men found them.
Then someone threatened Candy, Ivan’s favorite girl.
Now security is a lot tighter, with cameras covering every square inch and laser sensors on every door and window. But I’m constantly casing whatever place I’m in, always monitoring the entry points and exits. I find weak spots in their security system.
Old habits and all that.
Which is why I know exactly how to break into the Grand.
“Bee,” comes a whisper from the alley. I meet Maisie in the shadows, where she slips me a folded piece of paper. “The code to the alarm.”
Suspicion rises up in me. “Do I even want to know how you got this?”
“Of course not,” she says as if she doesn’t care. Because she doesn’t. Whatever illegal or unethical thing she had to do doesn’t matter. Whoever got hurt doesn’t matter.
Trade up.
All that matters is that she got what she wanted.
Right now I can’t even blame her. Some very scary men have Jeb. They won’t be treating him well. And if we don’t get them their money, they won’t ever let him go.
The paper is cool between my thumb and forefinger. “This means you can come in with me.”
She shakes her head, a flash of white-blonde hair in the dark. “I’ll stand guard. That was always the plan.”
The plan had been for her to cut the alarm. I’d be ready to go inside the second the alarm went dead. And she would stand guard, because it didn’t make sense for her to catch up. I’m the safe cracker in the family. Maisie has the smile, and Jeb has the charm. And me? I’ve had a good ear for clicks ever since I was a little girl.
Now that she doesn’t need to cut the alarm, she could come in with me. And the fact that she doesn’t want to has more to do with hedging her bets than keeping a lookout.
“Fine,” I say, my teeth clenched. I tell myself for the millionth time that I won’t be sucked into any of their schemes, but how can I even believe my own lies? The second they show up on my doorstep with some sob story—and some crazy violent assholes on their tail—I’m back to doing their bidding.
She puts her hand on my arm. “Bee, don’t be upset. You need to go in calm. Clear your mind.”
I close my eyes and squeeze them tight. I do need a clear mind if I’m going to crack that safe. “You’ll be here when I get out?”
I hate how small my voice sounds, how childlike.
“Of course,” she says in that carefree way. And I know better than to believe her.
It’s something else that pulls me across the street, something else that makes me climb the metal gate. A sense of duty. Or maybe something darker. The fear that if I don’t do this, if I turn my own parents away from my door, I’ll have no one left.
The cameras sweep over the courtyard in an irregular pattern, but I’ve watched it. I’ve learned it. And I use that knowledge now to evade them, pausing behind the broken fountain before running across the broken cobblestones.
I don’t bother trying to pick the fancy carbon locks. It only takes me a few minutes to pry apart hinges from old wood and wedge the door open from the other side.
That’s the fatal flaw of this place. No matter how much high-tech security infrastructure you add, it’s still an old building, a genial building, one designed to welcome people in—not keep them out.
The security system beeps in warning.
I enter the code on the slip of paper, and it goes silent.
Well, that was the easy part. Now I have to break into the basement, which will be no small feat. And then I have to break into a safe before anyone finds me. And then I’ll have to get out of town.
I’ll get out of town and never be able to come back.
The Grand is silent and still and almost pitch-black, only the placid green blinks from the security system to light the way. The energy is different now too, without the avid curiosity of the attendees, without the hard beauty of the girls. It feels truly grand, with old-world elegance and an air of demure calm.
It hurts to think about robbing this place, even while I’m halfway there. As if I’m defiling something pure. It hurts to think about leaving and never coming back.
Maisie is waiting for me outside. Jeb is waiting for me, his life hanging in the balance.
So I force myself to cross the floor and head to the hallway by the stage. There’s a set of stairs leading down. I’ve only been down here once, when Ivan hired me. I never planned to rob the place, but I cased it anyway. So I could tell he kept the safe in his desk, bottom drawer. It would be something heavy, not something normally transportable. He would have had it built into the room, small and impenetrable.
I do have to pick the lock on the basement door. I bypass the half-made hat and the knitting needles in my bag and get the equipment I need. The hinges here are made of steel, the door itself a heavy metal as well. It takes me longer than I hope to get through the three dead bolts, each with a different size and shape bolt. I leave more scratches on the locks than I’m comfortable with. It’s sloppy, but I don’t have time to be neat. Every second that front door hangs open is a second I’m vulnerable.
I can’t forget what’s at stake here. Not just my life but Jeb’s. And Maisie’s. They wouldn’t stop with him if they’re trying to send a message. Their acts of violence are almost legendary. Everyone knows how ruthless they are. We don’t stand a chance.
Finally I push the door open. The floor of the Grand had seemed dark, but it’s nothing compared to the basement. There isn’t even the thread of moonlight through high stained-glass windows or the green glow of security buttons. There’s nothing at all.
I take two steps in the direction of the desk. I remember the placement of the room. There is no other furniture but that. And with the heavy safe built into it, he wouldn’t have moved the desk.
Two more steps. It’s disconcerting moving in the darkness, like I’m floating in a sky without stars.
A small scuffing sound makes me freeze.
The whistle of metal hinges makes the hair on my neck stand up. Then the door slams shut behind me.
I’m not alone.
“Hello, Bianca.”
T
he very worst
thing isn’t what will happen to me now. It isn’t even what will happen to Jeb or Maisie, who got themselves into this mess. Who got
me
into this mess.
The worst thing is that it’s West who’s caught me.
I fought so hard against him, against my attraction to him and the strange trust I had for him. He’s the one who’s going to bring me down. But then, maybe I always knew he would. I pull the old leather bag in front of my like a shield, even though I know it’s useless. I’ve been caught.
“How did you know?”
His lips firmed. “I didn’t.”
I let myself take stock of him, every muscled inch. His jaw is hard, more angular tonight. His skin is a beautiful darkness, as if he was born of the night itself. His body is strong, hanging back because he knows he doesn’t have to force me to make me do what he wants. If I ran, he could catch me.
In his right hand is a gun. I always knew the bouncers of the Grand were packing heat, but it’s a different thing to see the gun up close. He wouldn’t use it on me, would he? But then I didn’t think he’d suspect me either. I didn’t think he’d
catch
me. And I can’t afford to test him on this.
“You’re waiting in a basement,” I say, thankful my voice doesn’t shake too much. “And you don’t look surprised to see me. You must have known something.”
He gives a hollow laugh. “That’s why. You’re always watching me. Always observing. And you made it clear it’s not because you want to date me.”
I want to date him more than anything, but I wouldn’t even know how to date. It’s not something you can do when you’re constantly in between cons—not unless the boyfriend is a mark. “So I must have wanted to steal?”
He lifts one broad shoulder. “You’ve picked up extra shifts sometimes and then suddenly have to skip them. You’ve lost weight. You chipped in five dollars into the diaper pail.”
Guilt stabs me at the reminder. “So?”
“You usually put in more.”
I manage not to flinch, but barely. It hurts to know he saw me do that—and that he’d been watching me long enough to know what I usually do. It hurts to know he’s seen me lose weight, as if I’m breaking apart right in front of him. “You caught me,” I whisper.
His eyes soften just a fraction. “I made a guess. I hoped I’d be wrong.”
My heart clenches. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
For not being the girl you needed, a girl who would be good enough for you.
“For proving you right.”
His expression is grave, his hands almost gentle as he takes the bag from me. I hold tight for a second, a fleeting rebellion, before letting it go. I feel almost naked without it, exposed.
West nods toward the desk—and the wing-back chair behind it. “Have a seat, Bianca.”