Milo’s fingers wrapped around hers as he took the bud. Her knuckles burned under his touch, and her skin throbbed when he pulled the device away, leaving only cold air in its place.
Desire had been arcing between them like a damn solar flare. Having sex with him twice should have quenched her thirst. It hadn’t. Even now, with their friends in the back seat, she wanted him.
A grin slid across Milo’s face. “Thanks.”
Her temperature ratcheted up a degree and moisture filled her panties. Dear god, she had it bad. She pressed her knees together and wrung her hands. She had to keep her head in the game and focus on the heist. Night had long since fallen and the moon sat high in the clear sky. Could Dani see the sky where she was?
Serena tightened her arms around her stomach and dragged in a long, deep breath. Dani’s beaten face filled her mind’s eye, and she curled her fingernails into her palms. Brock gave Milo directions, but their voices were muffled by her rage. She’d kill the jerk for touching her sister. The vehicle slowed and Milo pulled off the road onto a hiking trail in the old, quiet area of Lone Tree Estates.
“We should hide the vehicle in case a hiker spots it and reports it,” Brock said.
“Good thinking.” Milo backed into the brush until the arms of several trees fell over the hood of the truck. He shifted into Park and turned in his seat. “Is this good?”
Brock leaned forward. The glow of his phone lit the confined space. “Yeah, this is perfect. We’ll need to hike the trail for a good quarter mile before we reach the property’s gates.”
Serena unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed the door handle. “Let’s go.”
Milo caught her wrist, stopping her before she could hop out. “Hold on.” He reached into the glove box and pulled out an object. The overhead light caught the black metal, and her blood sloshed through her arteries.
“What’s that?” The question was moot. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the hard lines of the weapon.
Milo turned the handle toward her. “In case we get split up, you need to be able to protect yourself.”
His words rang through her consciousness. He’d said the same thing the night he’d given her the switchblade—and years later it had saved her life. She fit the handle into her palm and caught the length of the handgun in her other hand, weighing it.
“Do you remember how to shoot?”
The gritty texture of sand erupted on her tongue, leeching the moisture from her mouth. She turned the gun over and brought her finger to the safety button. Of course, it was on. She hadn’t fired a gun since they were kids. Milo’s dad was a hunter and had taught Tasha and him to shoot. Milo had taught her when she was fifteen.
“I remember.”
“Good. Keep it on you.” He circled his finger in the air. “Let’s go.”
She climbed out of the truck and tucked the gun at the small of her back. Milo met her on her side of the vehicle and they all made their way down the trail. The hard, bulky metal dug into her tailbone, and her skin prickled with unease. As much as she’d wanted to refuse the weapon, Milo was right. She might need it.
“You’ll get used to it,” Peyton said with a wink.
Serena frowned.
“The gun at your back.” She lifted her jacket to reveal the Beretta at her spine. “I feel naked without mine.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I’m afraid it’s going to go off and shatter my spine.”
Peyton bumped her shoulder with hers and snickered. “Don’t be silly. You have the safety on, right?”
“Yes.”
“We’re almost through this,” Peyton said somberly, with a sympathetic smile. Despite the fact Serena had kept her distance from Peyton over the last few years, Peyton hadn’t held a grudge. “I’ve got an idea. Remember how we used to bet before a heist? I say we place one. It’ll help reduce the stress.” A sly smile smeared across her lips, and Serena narrowed her eyes at her.
“Seriously?” Brock fidgeted with the bud at his ear. “I don’t think this is the time, Priss.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”
“What do you have in mind?” Brock asked.
“Well, no point in betting on who gets out first. Not when just Milo and Serena are going in.”
“And we need to focus, not rush,” Milo said, his tone terse.
“Right. I’d like to bet a hundred bucks Brock and Dani get back together after this.”
Milo groaned and Serena winced and looked at Brock. Dark clouds brewed across his forehead. “You know that’s not going to happen. Dani would be pissed at you for saying something so ridiculous.”
“Did I touch a nerve?”
“All right,” Serena said, as they traipsed over the terrain. The property loomed ahead. “Let’s keep our voices down, shall we?”
“Hold up a minute.” Brock held out his hand. “I say—”
Peyton’s laugh bubbled in the tight space. “Easy, killer. I’m just ribbing you for calling me Priss.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Are you retirees ready?”
“I’m as in this game as you are,” Brock said. He took the lead down the trail, and they followed a pace behind. The heaviness in his voice told her Peyton had indeed struck a nerve. She felt a little stab of sympathy for the big guy with a big heart who’d made a stupid-ass decision that had cost him the woman he’d loved.
Then she pushed all thoughts of Brock’s feelings from her mind and glanced down at the mud-covered trail. Dani’s once clean gym shoes had taken a beating. Each step sunk the rubber and canvas into the moist ground. The gentle suck, suck, suck, on all eight of their feet was the only sound beyond the distant roar from the interstate.
Serena dragged her thumb through her fist, over and over. The constant friction on her skin kept the adrenaline bottled and prevented her from sprinting ahead.
Milo’s warm grip caught her hand, silencing the rub of her skin. She tilted her head back to take in the full view of him. The soft moonlight shone over the planes of his face, calming her. She let her hand relax in his hold, enjoying the brush of his thumb over her knuckles.
“Are you anxious about the heist or about Dani?”
“Both.”
Milo fell back a pace and gave her hand a squeeze. “Almost done.”
She snorted. Why did everyone keep saying that? “We haven’t started yet.”
“In an hour, we’ll be in the truck heading to the meeting point and all this will be behind us.”
She rolled her lips in and pinched the flesh between her teeth. Heat singed the corners of her eyes, and she exhaled through her nose to dam the rush of tears.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head.
“Serena,” he growled. The tone of his voice was harsher than it should have been, but it made some of her composure unravel.
Her gaze flew to Peyton, who passed her to walk a few steps ahead of Milo and her. “It’s just . . . what if the kidnapper doesn’t hold up their end of the deal? What if they don’t let her go? Or if . . . if . . .” Emotion choked her.
Milo’s arm slid around her waist, bringing her shoulder under the weight of his bicep. “Hang tight, babe. We’re doing everything we can.”
She nodded. She’d give the next couple of hours everything she had left in her. Dani would survive—she’d make sure of it. Her gaze landed on Brock’s form ahead of her. Muscles flexed under his gray T-shirt and his hands hung in tight mallets at his sides.
As much as Dani despised Brock, something had to be said for his willingness to help her. Serena burrowed closer to Milo and lifted her eyes to the hard line of his bristly jaw.
The same could be said about Milo . . .
* * *
“Brock, jump!” Serena said in a whisper, cupping her mouth. Brock teetered on the edge of the stone wall that surrounded Titus’s property.
Milo’s shoulders shook, and he couldn’t for the life of him speak any encouraging words without cracking up. “C�
��mon, man. I’ll catch you.”
Serena snorted, but her elbow caught him in the rib before he could take another jab at Brock.
Brock glowered at them. “Fuck you.”
Milo rubbed his hand over his neck.
“C’mon, Brock.” Peyton’s normally pleasant voice dripped with impatience. “You won’t bunch your panties, I promise.”
“It’s ten feet. Hang down and let go. We’ve got work to do.” Serena’s no-nonsense tone did the trick. The thump of Brock’s feet hitting the ground was cushioned by the thick, manicured grass.
He stood and stepped up to Milo. “For your information, I’ve got a bad knee.”
The corners of Milo’s mouth twitched, and he clapped Brock on the shoulder. The redness remained on Brock’s cheeks.
“How did you plan to get over the wall? Fly?”
Brock shrugged off Milo’s hand. “It’s higher than I thought.” He sounded slightly affronted, but his tone held a hint of humor.
“If you two are done, can we get the diamonds now?” Serena propped her hands on her hips.
“As long as Delicate Dorothy didn’t break a nail.”
Peyton threw her head back and hiccupped a laugh.
Brock smirked. “Ha ha. I see you two haven’t lost your sense of humor. You can stay here laughing at your own jokes while Serena and I do the real work.”
Brock nudged Serena and they moved toward the house, staying in the shadows. Milo followed Peyton but didn’t hide his chuckle. Memories of the four of them—five including Dani—working on heists flooded him. Brock had always been so easy to rib, Serena anxious to get the job done, Peyton optimistic, and Dani persistent, never backing down. As much as he’d wanted to forget this lifestyle, it was a part of him. The familiar buzz of adrenaline zapped in his veins, but it was different this time. This time, it wasn’t financial gain he was setting out for. He was doing this for Serena and Dani, but for himself too. To pay homage to the Milo he’d buried a long time ago, to prove to himself that he could dance with his past without repeating history.
Except his history with Serena.
Milo’s gaze fell to the sway of Serena’s hips. The material of her yoga pants highlighted every delicious contour of her ass. Desire ripped through his flesh. Dammit, he couldn’t think about that right now . . . couldn’t think about kissing her full, defiant mouth, couldn’t think about stripping her naked and fucking her on the Kentucky bluegrass.
“Milo, are you listening?” He jerked his stare away from her ass. Serena was looking at him over her shoulder, her brows pinched in a scowl.
He cleared his throat and stopped between Brock and her along the line of cedars behind the pool house, past the tennis court. “I’m listening.” Shit, he had no clue what she’d said. He focused his attention on the nine-thousand-square-foot mansion that loomed in front of them. He checked his watch. Just after 11:00 p.m.
“Let’s locate the cameras.”
Serena clasped her arms across her chest and leaned forward, squinting. “I see two. The other should be . . .”
Milo tilted his head back to look at the overhang of the pool house’s roof. He lifted his index finger. “Right here.”
Brock and Peyton took a step back, but they wouldn’t have been in view of the camera.
Milo’s gaze traveled over the pool, the outdoor kitchen, and the stacked stone wall beneath the second-story balcony.
He whistled. “That balcony looks a lot higher than fourteen feet.”
Serena fingered the strands of her ponytail. “I guess we’d better get started then.”
Milo blew a breath through his lips. She was right, they didn’t have time to come up with a new plan, and they sure as hell couldn’t gamble with Dani’s life. Brock peeled off his backpack and passed a bound-up cable to Serena. She fit it over her head and arm so it slung across her chest.
He watched the camera and timed its rotation. “We’ve got twelve seconds to get to the east side of the yard by the fountain. Ready?”
She gave one curt nod.
“Everyone put your earbuds in,” Peyton instructed. “If you have any problems, or if you get caught, remember, the code word is mayday.”
Milo pulled his out at the same time as Serena, and they inserted them.
“Got it.” Serena jammed her hands into her pockets. The moonlight outlined her profile as she stared at their target entrance.
“Try to update me on your location in the house so I can be prepared to move in,” Brock said.
Serena turned to Brock. “If something happens . . . if we don’t make it out . . .” Her throat bobbed on a swallow.
Brock gripped her shoulder. “I promise, I’ll find Dani.”
She nodded, let out a deep sigh, and sunk her fingertips into Milo’s sleeve. “I’m ready.”
He put his arm around her and watched the camera. As soon as it skimmed over their heads, he ushered her out from under the overhang. Their hurried footsteps kicked up the scent of wet grass, sending it wafting to his nostrils. Serena reached the stone fountain first and dropped to her knee out of the camera’s sight. Milo kneeled beside her and zeroed in on their next move. A flower bed, no more than two feet high, lined one side of the walkout patio.
“Can you see them?”
Serena’s ponytail bobbed on a nod. “Yeah, Peyton signaled to wait.”
Milo peered over her head and the edge of the fountain, locking his gaze on Brock’s form. His hand rose and waved to them. Milo brought his hand to Serena’s hip and together they rose and skirted across the lawn to the covered patio. He pressed his back against the stacked stone wall and Serena fell into place next to him. The twelve-foot cedar bushes that lined the flower bed along the side of the patio blocked the camera on the east side of the house.
Brock gave them a thumbs-up—they’d made it without being caught by the cameras.
Milo pushed away from the wall and tipped his head back. A low groan rumbled in his chest. Christ, it had been three years since he rock-climbed or did any strenuous activity of the sort. Lifting weights and doing cardio would in no way aid his guitar-string hamstrings for the ninety-degree angle that loomed before him.
Dammit to hell and back, he was probably going to throw his back out.
CHAPTER 14
If their circumstances weren’t so dire, Serena would have laughed at the expression on Milo’s twisted face. But time wasn’t something they had to throw around. She gripped the material on his arm and tugged.
“C’mon. Don’t worry, I’ve got excellent balance.” She pulled her gloves out of her coat pocket and fit her hands into them. From here on out, they had to be careful about fingerprints.
He snorted. “You just stand on guys’ shoulders in your spare time?”
“Maybe,” she said with a lift of her shoulder. His scowl hinted that he didn’t like her answer one bit. She rolled her eyes. “I’ve done a lot of aerial yoga. This will be nothing.”
He scanned the stamped concrete at their feet as if expecting a staircase to appear.
“Milo, we don’t have all night.”
“If you fall and break your leg don’t expect me to lift Brock.” He caught her hips, and a squeak escaped her lips as he lifted her over his head and settled her crotch behind his neck. A wave of heat spread through her. God, he’d done that as if she weighed no more than a five-year-old.
She held his head in her hands and hooked the tops of her feet around his sides as he moved to stand close to the stacked stone wall directly below the balcony.
His hands tightened on her thighs. “You all right?”
She should so not be aroused at a time like this, but the solid ripple of his shoulders on the backs of her thighs sent her mind to the gutter. She coughed out an acknowledgment.
“Can you hold on to the wall and stand up?”
She let go of his head and closed her fingers around the stone that jutted out from the wall. Thank god it was the high-end individually laid stone and not the
cheap slabs. She followed her gaze along the wall in front of her stone by stone until her focus landed on the balcony.
Shit.
Milo was right. It was a lot higher than she’d thought.
“What’s wrong?” Milo’s rugged voice rumbled between her legs. If she didn’t get moving, she’d climax on his shoulders. She wiggled her foot out from around his side and drew her knee up.
“Nothing. Don’t let me fall.” She planted her sneaker into his shoulder and he grunted. She froze.
“I’m fine,” he said, as his hand moved to her ankle. She repeated the same motion with her other foot, grasping the stones as she stood. Her body wavered and she closed her eyes.
Don’t fall, don’t fall . . . Dani needs you.
Milo’s firm grip on her calves anchored her. His thumbs worked in small circles, offering her whatever reassurance he could from the ground.
“Can you reach?” His whisper floated to her ears as she clung to the wall. Taking great care not to make herself dizzy, she inched back her neck to find the ledge of the balcony. It hovered two feet above her head.
“I think so.” She pried her left hand from the wall and stretched her fingers toward the concrete slab. They just brushed the bottom. She forced down the shriek of frustration bubbling in her throat.
“I’m about six inches from reaching the bars.”
Milo’s curse cut through the night.
Dani’s bloody and blackened face crashed through her mind. Risking a fall would be worth it.
“On the count of three, spring me straight up.”
“Spring you?” he hissed. His fingers flexed on her.
“One . . .”
“This is a bad—”
She loosened the grip of her other hand, ready to launch it to the bars that surrounded the balcony.
“Two . . .”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Three.”
He clenched her legs and then catapulted her off his shoulders. The balcony rushed up to meet her, and she locked her hands around the bars. She let out a whoosh of air from her lungs and dangled. Milo’s hands pressed the bottoms of her feet, relieving the sting of strain on her arms.
The Last Heist (Pretty Thieves Book 1) Page 16