“Nightmare?” she asks, her voice sounding a little more alert. She pulls away, only to roll to her side so she can face me. It’s still dark outside. We’d left the hotel curtains open, so I can see her face well enough.
“I dreamed about that time we made all those plans to go legit,” I say.
Her eyes light up, her teeth flashing. “We were going to get a Corgi and name it Lord Alfred.”
I frown sternly. “You and I remember that conversation differently.”
Sin laughs. “I remember a Corgi for sure. And a house in London with our parents moving in with us, which now that I think about it, what the hell were we thinking?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “I’m sure we would have eventually settled on getting them their own places close to our home.”
“You don’t have that opportunity now,” Sin says, her voice going from jovial to morose in a nanosecond. “I took that away from you.”
My fingertips go to her lips. “Don’t. Just let that go, okay? I have.”
She doesn’t respond, and I can see her eyes are shiny.
I change the subject. “Do you want to go see your dad today before we head back to Paris?”
We have nothing left to do in London. Our job was a quick trip in to get our own lay of the nightclub before heading back to Paris where we’d finalize details with William.
Her gaze comes to me, a smile on her face. “Could we?”
“Of course.”
Sin hasn’t said much about her dad since we’ve ‘reconnected’ besides he retired. But I came to care for her dad a great deal when we were together. He’s a true thief down to his core and could not have been prouder his daughter was in love with another thief. Training Sin to be as good as she is today was an immensely proud achievement for him as a father.
Which is so funny because Sin would never have kids unless she was out of this lifestyle. Sin doesn’t love it the way her father did. She has a conscience.
“Why did your dad retire?” I ask.
“He had a stroke.”
“Jesus, Sin,” I exclaim. Her dad had always been healthy, and he wasn’t all that old. “Is he okay now?”
She shrugs. “Yeah… I mean, he’s doing pretty well. Able to care for himself and all, but he can’t—”
Her words fall flat, but I know what she means. He can’t work anymore, which means he can’t do what he loves.
Steal.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, taking her hand in mine. I bring it to my lips, wanting to offer her solace. Sin loves her father, and she wants him to be happy. Retirement most definitely would not make him happy, especially if medically forced.
She’s silent a moment. When she does speak, her words are so small and meek it’s hard to hear them. “I have to tell you something, Saint.”
A secret. I can hear it in her tone.
“What?” I ask, although I dread what she’s going to say. I may have forgiven her, but the fact a pit formed in my stomach says I’m still miles from trusting her.
Her eyes come to mine, and she swallows hard. “I was ready to get out of the game. I was tired of this life, but now Mercier won’t let me out.”
My head spins a little, having not expected her to say anything of this nature. “I don’t understand.”
“My dad was working a job for Mercier, and he had the stroke in the midst of it. It got all fucked up, Mercier ended up losing a lot of money, which he holds my dad responsible for.”
I prop on an elbow, incredulously demanding, “He did what?”
Sin nods. “Said my dad owed him the money he lost, and I could work it off by joining his crew. He’d been wanting me to come on board, but I hadn’t wanted to. I’d been working on my own since you… you know… since you left, and I had no desire to work for him. But now… I don’t have a choice.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, pushing my hand into the mattress to sit up more fully. I’m wide awake now. “He’s holding you hostage?”
“I call it more indentured servitude, but, yeah.”
“He can’t do that,” I growl.
“I told him that,” she says, rising to lean against the headboard. She tucks her legs up, resting her chin on her knees. “He told me if I didn’t work it off, then he would kill my dad. It was that simple to him.”
I don’t know Julian Mercier at all. Met him only that one time, so I have no way of judging how ruthless he is. But one thing is clear… I don’t doubt what Sin’s telling me.
Which means I must trust her a lot more than I’m giving myself credit for.
Christ, this is a clusterfuck. I’d hoped to be able to convince Sin to somehow leave this crew before the big heist goes down. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how to do it without blowing my own cover. I had even hoped now that we’re intimate with each other, we’d get closer and I could use my charm to get her to do what I want.
It’s all moot because she’s stuck. She’ll never do anything to risk her dad’s life. Frankly, knowing what I know now, I’d never ask her to do it.
On top of everything else, I now have to figure out how to protect her and her dad.
I make a command decision before I can talk myself out of it. Leaning over, I turn on the bedside lamp so we can see each other clearly. “I have something to tell you too.”
Sin cocks her head, a small smile of encouragement playing at her lips. It’s a silent reply. You can tell me anything.
“I’m undercover,” I say bluntly.
She wasn’t prepared for that. Her eyes flare with shock, her mouth falling open.
“After prison, I went to work for a private security company in Pittsburgh. An insurance consortium got wind of some major heist that’s supposed to be going down somewhere in Europe, and they knew William Mears was involved. I’m a plant—an inside man who could walk back into this life to get in on the deal.”
“You’re not working with the police?” she asks, her eyebrows knitted.
“No. Which makes this extra dangerous. I have nothing protecting me. I get pinched doing any of this, I’m going to jail.”
“So you’re supposed to figure out what the big heist is and tip them off?” she inquires.
“Something like that. I haven’t quite gotten it figured out, but I do know I want you as far away from this as possible. Since I know they’re holding your dad over your head, we’re going to have to figure something else out.”
“We?” she inquires hesitantly. “As in you and I will have to figure something out?”
“You know all my dirty secrets, Sin. What you choose to do with them is up to you.”
Sin comes to her knees so fast I jerk back a bit. But then her hands are on my face, and she’s peering right into my eyes. “You can trust me, Saint. I’ll help you with this. I want out. I want my dad safe. If taking Mercier down is the way to do it, then that’s a no brainer. But more than anything, I’m so damn happy to have you back in my life I’d do anything to keep building on this. Consider me on the team. We’re going to figure out this heist, then we’re going to let him have his due.”
There’s no describing the mixture of relief and elation at her words, nor the weird fact I’m completely turned on by the determination to keep me in her life.
Moving quickly, I have her flat on her back with her legs spread beneath me. I’m short on words right now, wanting to be inside her too badly.
But I do manage three important ones. “Thank you, Sin.”
CHAPTER 14
Sin
My father no longer lives in the house I grew up in. Once I reached adulthood and left the nest, it had become too big for him even though it wasn’t large to begin with. Since his stroke nine months ago, I’m grateful for the small flat he rents in Tottenham. Smaller space means less he has to take care of. Even though he can afford more, he’s never been the type of man who cared about material things. After years as a thief, he has piles of money stashed all over London in safety deposit boxes, which he
can now use to pay his essential living expenses.
No, my father has never been about greed. With him, it was always about the thrill of pulling off a spectacular caper.
About not getting caught.
But while my dad was good, he wasn’t perfect. Before I was born, he had done a stint in prison for a botched car heist. He had always told me that he’d never complained once about getting caught because when it all boiled down to it, he was in the wrong and was always prepared to face the consequences.
One of Dad’s pieces of advice to me was, “If you’re going to live this type of life, you better be prepared to be caught at some point. As long as you know that and accept the risk, you should never lose a moment’s sleep over what you do.”
I often rolled that conversation around in my head when a guilty conscience would plague me over the things I have done. It’s a risk I’ve been less and less sure I’ve wanted to take over the last few years.
After Saint suggested we visit my dad, I had texted him that I was in town and was going to come by to see him before I had to fly out this evening. When I knock on the door to his flat, it swings open immediately. It’s obvious he’s been excitedly waiting to see his only daughter.
“Sindaria,” he exclaims, pulling me into a hard hug.
Even at sixty-three and recovered from a mild stroke, my dad is still a strong man. He’s tall and thin, but he still manages to lift me clean off the floor. It doesn’t prevent me from noticing he doesn’t squeeze as hard with his right arm as he does with his left. The aftereffects of his stroke.
I hug my dad tightly, burying my face in his neck. Even though we have different skin colors, I love my dad so much it feels like his blood runs through my veins. I never once bemoaned the fact I didn’t know my birth parents, and I never took it personally the woman who gave birth to me abandoned me in the hospital. Instead, I chose to accept the love George and Clara Westin gave me when they brought me home and adopted me as their daughter. When I got older and after my mom died, my dad offered to help me try to track down my birth mom again. I declined. I never felt like I’m a mysterious puzzle with a crucial corner piece missing.
I owe that to the strength and love of my father as we navigated life together, alone.
My dad is everything to me. He raised me with such love and care, and while he may not have been perfect, there was nothing I ever wanted for. He taught me everything I know… Not just how to steal stuff and do it well, but how to read and do math. He’d even concocted science projects with me late into the night for school. He sat at the kitchen table, helping me with my homework every night. On the weekends, he taught me how to pick a lock with a bobby pin before I was ten. Because my world revolved around him, it is no wonder why I wanted to be like him when I grew up.
It simply feels good to be in his arms right now, so it’s with reluctance I pull back and let him see I’ve brought a guest to visit.
I feel my dad jerk slightly as I pull out of his embrace, telling me that he has seen Saint over my shoulder. When I step aside, I note the pure delight on my father’s face as he takes in the man who was once deeply involved with his daughter.
My dad adored Saint. He was the only man I have ever introduced to my father, who came to feel he was a man worthy of me not only by the generosity of his heart or the way he cared for me or the way he wanted to protect me, but also simply because he was a thief like us.
“Saint Bellinger,” my dad murmurs in awe, sticking his hand out.
Saint takes it, then my dad pulls him toward him for a half hug. “How the bloody hell are you?”
Saint shoots me a quick look. We had talked about this last night… what my dad does and doesn’t know about what went down between us and my current situation with Mercier.
It’s simple. My father knows everything that happened between Saint and me three years ago. I’d confessed to him—the one man I could talk to about anything—about what I had done to the man I had loved. My dad held me as I cried for everything I’d lost and assured me that I had no other choice, even though we both know I did. He’d never chastised me for it. Never made me feel like crap. Never once threw it in my face that I could have handled that situation a dozen different ways.
He was simply my dad, and he loves me despite my mistake.
“I’m good, George.” Saint releases my dad’s hand, then takes a good look at him. “How are you doing?”
My dad blushes from the notable concern in Saint’s voice. “Oh, as well as can be expected. Ready to get back to work, actually.”
Saint and I share another look. We talked a lot about my dad last night. There’s no way he can go back to work… not as a thief, anyway. And past that, he doesn’t have any other transferable skills. Since the stroke, my dad simply doesn’t have the reflexes it takes. Besides, his memory has taken a bit of a hit. I even notice it’s a little harder for him to process some things. I haven’t had the heart to tell him that he can’t do this anymore.
Instead, I say, “Dad… you don’t have any need to work. You’ve got more money than you know what to do with. It’s time for you to relax.”
My dad motions us into the apartment before shutting the door behind him. He gives me a sly wink. “I’m bored, Sindaria. I belong in the shadows, filling my coffers off the backs of the insanely wealthy.”
It makes me laugh—my father’s romanticized version of the type of life we lead. Shaking my head, I move into the small kitchen that’s separated from the living area by a half counter. “I’m going to make some tea for us.”
As I bustle around the kitchen pulling out the kettle and some loose-leaf tea, my dad motions Saint to the couch while he takes a seat in his recliner.
“When did you get out of prison?” my dad asks.
“About six months ago,” he replies.
“Back in the game?” I can hear the excitement in my father’s voice.
Saint’s lips curve upward. “Sin and I are working together on a few jobs.”
My dad, never one to tiptoe around what might be a touchy subject, asks Saint point-blank. “And how are things working out between you two? You know… since she, um…”
Saint cocks an eyebrow. “You mean since she sent me to prison?”
There is nothing but amusement in Saint’s voice, but I still feel a punch to my gut from his words. My dad gets flustered and starts mumbling.
Saint leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring directly at my dad. “We’re okay, George. Sin told me why she did what she did, and I understand it. I’ve forgiven your daughter.”
My dad’s sigh is long and audible. “Well, that’s good. Very good. Because… she loves you so much. Everything she did was from a position of pure love.”
I flush, feeling the heat creep up the back of my neck over my father’s unabashed use of the word “love”. It’s true, though. I did what I did out of love for Saint, and I’ve never once stopped loving him. Just because he was gone from my life didn’t mean the feelings were.
This is what sucks about us being together again. My feelings for him are as deep and as true as ever, and Saint, I am quite sure, could never feel deeply for me again. Not after what I did and took from him.
Saint doesn’t respond to my father’s proclamation of my love, and my dad doesn’t seem to notice. He jumps right into a conversation about what we are working on.
“What are you two planning? Is it a job I can help you on?”
A rush of sadness that my father is so hopeful he could go back to doing the only thing he’s ever loved besides me.
I step in, needing to shut this down before he gets too excited.
“It’s a job for Mercier, Dad.”
That’s all I need to say. My father’s face falls. “Oh… Well, never mind. He’s not happy with me now, is he? But hey… maybe we could work on something together one day.”
My dad has no clue the hold Mercier has on me. All he knows is he screwed up a job from the man and bec
ause he was recovering from his stroke—which took months—he had no clue of the fallout he’d left behind. Especially not about Mercier roping me into paying my dad’s debts for his screw-up.
My dad will never know, either.
I walk into the living area, leaving the kettle on the stove to boil, and bend over to kiss my father on the top of his head. “Sure, Dad. I would love to do a job with you again someday. Let Saint and I finish up some stuff with Mercier, then you and I will hit the town for old times’ sake. Sound good?”
My dad smiles brilliantly. “That would make this old man happy. Working with my daughter, I mean.”
My dad starts chattering about an idea he has involving a new jewelry store in the area. I turn back to the kitchen to start putting the tea service together, sad in the knowledge that, at some point, I’m going to have to have a truthful conversation with him to say that part of his life is over.
Which is ironic because that is all I want for my own life. To be out of this business and be normal.
CHAPTER 15
Saint
It’s been four days since Sin and I cased out Throb and visited with her dad. We had flown back to Paris and the next day, met with William to report on our observations. We then worked on ironing out a plan.
Unfortunately, Neal is on our team again. I don’t like it, but we do need a third person and William is calling the shots. At this point, I can’t rock the boat by refusing to work with Neal. I have to remain a solid person for Mercier to count on so he will involve me in whatever big heist he is planning. Besides, I get the feeling Mercier is narrowing down his favorites to the three of us for the big heist. If that means I have to work with Neal, so be it.
It doesn’t mean I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder, half expecting Neal to be lurking behind me with a switchblade in hand. I don’t discount the threat at all.
Now we’re back in London and tonight is the night we make our move on Throb. Neal and I had parked the car we’d rented several blocks away, and we’re walking toward the nightclub. Sin is already inside.
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