by Cara Dee
I missed that.
Sharing silence with someone could be incredibly intimate. At least for me.
I released a breath and scrubbed my hands over my face.
Sleep, goddammit. Sleep.
Big day tomorrow. Important day. Nothing was allowed to go wrong. I wasn’t the slightest bit worried about breaking in to the hospitality guy’s apartment next week, but this…? Fuck. AJ Lange liked his security.
Boone shifted next to me, causing the sheet to ride down when he twisted it around his leg. “Go to sleep, little brother.”
Oh.
“I’m trying,” I murmured. “Did I wake you?” I couldn’t have.
“I don’t know.” He yawned and stretched out, then pushed himself up a bit on his elbow. “Maybe. I can sense when you’re restless.”
I scratched my jaw. My turn to need a trim soon. Boone had trimmed his this week. A little, anyway.
“I miss silence,” I admitted.
He hummed quietly and moved closer. “We could go camping when all this is over.”
I nodded and tilted my head to him. “Yeah. Sounds good.” With him so close, I had to pull him in for a kiss.
He smiled faintly, his lips moving against mine with sleepy seductiveness. “Something else botherin’ you? Something about tomorrow?”
“Nothing beyond regular jitters.” I squirmed my way into his embrace and turned his arm into my pillow.
It was probably ridiculous, but it really felt like a dream come true every time he squeezed the shit out of me in one of his strong hugs. Having his big arms around me, being the center of his attention, eased the unrest within me.
There was no word that could do justice to how much I loved him.
“I wanna tell Mom about us soon,” Boone murmured hesitantly.
I peered up at him and found him looking at me in a way he’d done before. He was waiting for direction and approval. He wanted to know what I thought.
“We will.” I brushed the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip. “Soon as this job’s done—and once you’ve decided what you want us to tell her.” I elaborated when I saw his brow furrowing. “We haven’t established a relationship. I don’t know exactly what it is you want. A regular relationship? You want us to show up at a game or recital hand in hand? Or do you want something more discreet?”
That made him frown. “I sure as fuck don’t wanna hide. I thought we were on the same page and wanted the couple shit.”
I chuckled and kissed him quickly. “I’m on that page. Just had to make sure you were on it too.”
He hummed into the kiss, not entirely satisfied yet. “Fuck discreet,” he muttered. “First time in my life, I wanna make an effort. Maybe I’m not good at romantic dinners, but I want an anniversary to celebrate and quick getaways for just you and me.”
That sounded perfect to me. “You know what’s a romantic meal to me? Sandwiches in the desert. Packed lunch on the beach. All-you-can-eat ribs in front of the TV. Chinese food in bed. Those are the only dates I’m interested in.”
He smiled more genuinely and kissed me harder. “We’re kinda perfect for each other.”
“We kinda are.” I grinned and leaned back against his bicep again, and I just looked up at him.
He combed back my hair with his fingers. “If I say something sweet, will you call me cheesy?”
“Absolutely,” I promised.
He chuckled silently and dipped down, resting his forehead to mine. “You’re beautiful, Case. Hot, fucking adorable, and so sexy that it drives me crazy.”
Good luck wiping the grin off my face now. “Kiss me, you cheesy bastard.”
Now I knew how I could fall asleep. He could fuck me into oblivion and exhaust my body.
Thirteen
Ma talking my ear off at seven in the morning wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind today. I adjusted the earbud and listened to her go on and on about the novel she was writing, but most of my focus remained on counting my sets.
I grunted and set down the kettlebell on the porch. The burn that coursed through my arms made me feel alive. It had the added bonus of Case getting turned on when he watched me lift, too. I’d heard him inside the trailer, so I knew he was awake.
“So what do you think?” Mom asked.
“I think it sounds great,” I answered distractedly. I picked up the kettlebell with my other hand this time and began a new set of twenty. “Next bestseller.”
Three, four, five…
I gnashed my teeth.
Case stepped out on the porch a few seconds later, a Pop-Tart trapped between his teeth, and one hand down his sweats, scratching his balls. I wanted them in my mouth. Or, lately, slapping against my ass.
“Mornin’.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “That’s one sweaty bicep—that I kinda wanna lick.”
I winked at him.
Mom kept rambling.
He nodded at my phone on the table, maybe since I hadn’t given him a verbal response. “You talkin’ to someone?”
“Mom,” I mouthed.
“Ah.” He sat back and took a bite of his Pop-Tart. “I guess it was okay when she cockblocked us in high school, but, uh, I’m about to hit the shower if you wanna join.”
If I did?
“Ma, I love you, but I gotta go,” I said and disconnected the call.
Now was not the time to get hungry. Not when we were parked on AJ’s street, waiting for him to fuck off so we could break in to his house.
“Do you remember Mom’s tomato soup?” I asked, attaching the mag to my gun. For emergencies only, of course. I’d just used it to shoot soda cans in the desert. Boone had used his to shoot himself in the leg once.
“With the rice?” he asked.
I nodded. Growing up, it’d been my favorite meal. Whenever we were sick or we’d just had a bad day, Ma would bake cheese-filled rolls and make her tomato soup with rice and cut-up hot dogs and bacon. To this day, it was the definition of comfort food.
“I remember our friends calling it weird,” Boone said.
“I remember us kicking their asses for it,” I replied with a smile.
He smirked.
“What about it?”
“It occurred to me that Ace has never tried it,” I said. “When we pick her up tonight, we gotta get groceries anyway. We could find out the ingredients and make it for her.” Perhaps we could do a movie night. I was itching for some family time.
“I’m game. But we’re buying the bread. Unless—” The idea struck him probably at the same time as it struck me. He quickly retrieved his phone. “I’m texting Ma. Maybe she’ll wanna bake for us.”
Exactly.
I scratched my nose and checked the sideview mirror. Any moment now, we’d see AJ dumping his golf bag into his car.
Boone had borrowed us an inconspicuous car to blend in on the street, a nice white Acura sedan. Nobody gave a fuck about those. They weren’t expensive enough to be noticed—or cheap enough to stick out like a sore thumb. It was just a car. A forgettable car.
“Ask if she wants to make cookies too,” I said.
Boone nodded slowly, concentrating on typing.
I shifted in my seat and checked the time. Almost noon. Fuck, I just wanted to get this over with. Not only because I didn’t like the risks that came with breaking in to rich folks’ houses, but because my clothes were fucking uncomfortable. The cargo pants in desert camo with side pockets worked—the ugly, skintight turtleneck, not so much. But it was the only item of clothing we could wear if we wanted to cover all our ink. On the off chance that someone saw us, there was no need to give them any recognizable marks to tell the cops about.
Lastly, our shoes. They were the worst touch. They were two sizes too large and added a couple inches to my height. Anything to confuse potential witnesses and investigators.
Movement caught my eye, and I glanced in the sideview mirror again. “He’s on the move.” My pulse thrummed a little faster as I watched AJ in his driveway.
I made a mental note to bring it up with Willow.
“We’re gonna have to be really fucking careful here,” I murmured, eyes still on AJ. “If he’s anything like Darius, we’re essentially walking into the lion’s den.”
“What makes you think he’s like Darius?” Boone asked.
“I don’t know.” I frowned. “Just something about him.”
AJ backed out of the driveway and drove off, and if all went according to plan, he wasn’t coming back until later this afternoon.
“All right, let’s get ready.” I reached for my backpack in the back seat and scooted forward to put it on. Gloves followed. I had a whole box, courtesy of my tattoo artist. Black latex gloves.
“Jay’s ready to cut the security alarm.” Boone pocketed his phone, and I nodded in acknowledgment. Then he started the car and pulled out of the spot to find parking near the end of the street instead. There were four more houses after AJ’s. “I’ve been thinking about ribs since you mentioned it last night.”
“Fuck, bro, me too. We’ll buy ribs on the way home.”
“Deal.”
Boone snagged the last parking spot before the cul-de-sac, and I glanced around us to make sure there weren’t any nosy neighbors around. Noon on a Sunday, anything could happen. We were lucky that AJ lived on the edge of his neighborhood and that there was plenty of nothingness around us. In fact, on the map, his street poked out of Summerlin like a peninsula, with desert on two sides and a golf course to the south. Not the one where AJ was a member.
“All clear. Let’s roll. Don’t forget the iPad.” I stepped out of the car and into the blistering heat. For chrissakes, the triple-digit temperatures should be over for the year by now.
Boone and I left the curb and headed down along the side of the last estate on the street. They’d opted for a six-foot-high stone wall, making us invisible on the outside. A stretch of desert extended between the property line and the golf course too, so at least we had nothing to worry about right here. The nearest golf cart I spotted looked more like a toy car.
Stone wall’s neighbor had thick hedges, and the two houses after that, high picket fences.
We stopped right before AJ’s house, and I pulled out my binoculars. He didn’t have a high wall or fence, because he had an infinity pool. It was elevated to the height of my shoulders, though it wouldn’t be difficult to ascend it. As long as we didn’t tumble into the water.
I peered through the binoculars, starting with every corner on the exterior I could find. Under the balcony, along the terrace, near the roof of the estate. Just double-checking to make sure there weren’t any hidden cameras.
“His car has been still for a few minutes now,” Boone said. “Same spot as the other Sundays.”
Good.
We should have at least four or five hours, because according to our digging around at the exclusive club he was a member of and tracking him for the past few weeks, he finished off his round with a drink or a meal at the club’s restaurant, but it was better to play it safe. We’d only been able to follow AJ to the golf course one time, and we’d had to stay in the parking lot. We’d seen him enter the restaurant with two other men, typical white dudes with fat wallets and bellies, owners of a couple of the expensive cars in the lot. But AJ had reemerged to go home before the other two, and our time had run out. We’d never found out who he golfed with, if they were work friends or other associates. And with more than one loose variable, I wasn’t taking chances. All it took was an angry wife or a work-related emergency for their Sunday fun to get cut short.
“See anything?” Boone asked.
I shook my head and refolded my binoculars, then tucked them back into one of the pockets. “We’re good. Try not to fall into the water.” No time to waste. I flattened my hands against the edge of the elevated pool and hoisted myself up with a grunt. Whoa. Water—right there. My nostrils filled with the smell of chlorine. “Edge’s narrower than you think. Be careful.”
A three-foot jump separated me from the outer edge of the pool to the nearest side where solid ground was. The entire pool area was lined with flagstone, including the “fence,” which consisted of sheets of rock. But closer to the patio, a regular fence took over.
Boone heaved himself onto the edge once I’d cleared the spot, and my breath got stuck in my throat when it looked like he was about to roll into the pool. Man, it woulda been hysterical.
“Nailed it,” he grunted.
I grinned and took a couple steps back so he could jump too.
He made a face and threw me his bag. “If I fall in, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
He blew out a breath, then took a big leap and, unfortunately, remained dry.
“Jesus. That’s enough cardio for one day,” he claimed, out of breath.
I snorted and started walking toward the house. My brother liked to say that cardio was for losers who couldn’t lift a twenty-pound dumbbell. He hadn’t complained last night, though, when he’d licked my abs, and I sure as fuck hadn’t lifted much in my day. I liked to run, swim, row, and do sit-ups and chin-ups.
I also liked to pick locks, and this was the fun part. I was ready for whatever AJ would throw at me, dead bolts—single-cylinder or double—latches, digital locks, spring locks, whatever. I had the gear I needed in my backpack, including several bump keys, pins, a code scrambling device, and a high-voltage shocker that could short-circuit and reboot most smart locks.
As I climbed up the patio deck and passed the seating area, I dropped Boone’s bag on the ground and removed my own. The floor-to-ceiling sliding doors revealed a sparsely decorated living room on the other side of the glass. I could see into the kitchen too. No surveillance indoors, thank fuck. And that was where the similarities between AJ Lange and my cousins ended. Darius and Ryan wouldn’t be caught alive in a sterile environment like this. Why even have bookshelves if you didn’t own books? Excuse me, there was a single stack of what appeared to be coffee table books on one shelf. The rest was overpriced knickknacks called art.
There had to be a rule somewhere about African art. It seemed so stereotypical. Nevertheless, for some unknown reason, AJ had a thin bronze statue of a giraffe between two chairs.
It was safe to say that AJ didn’t have any kids in his social circle. ’Cause all I saw were hazards where Ace would’ve hurt herself as a toddler. From the sharp edges of the glass table to the staircase without a railing. The black steps shot out from the wall with nothing in between.
I shook my head and refocused. Down on one knee in front of the door, I inspected the lock and nodded to myself. I was gonna need about half an hour.
“What kind of lock is it?” Boone asked.
“Double-cylinder deadbolt,” I replied, opening my backpack.
Boone hummed and disappeared from my periphery.
Okay, time to get down to business. I wanted Ace to be proud of me. We’d practiced this together a lot. I’d have a set of locks lined up on the coffee table at home, and she’d time me to see how quickly I could pick them.
I brought out my kit for deadbolts and—
“Or we can use this window over here,” Boone said.
I felt my brows knit together and annoyance flare up. Windows were no fun at all. “What kind of lock is it?” There was a pillar in the way, preventing me from seeing the window in the first place.
Boone smirked. “I’m not sure it matters. It’s open.”
To hell with that!
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snapped irritably. What kind of moron spent tens of thousands of dollars on security and left the goddamn window open? On the first floor!
I rose from the ground and stalked over there, legitimately pissed. Not only because AJ was robbing me of the fun of putting my skills to use, but because this shit made me wary. It made no sense to leave a window open in this heat.
Fine if you were smoking a joint with your brother—you popped the window for a bit and then closed it again. You didn’t fucking leave the house.
Sure enough, the window was ajar.
“I don’t like this.” I dug through my bag to fetch my modified pliers with extra-long grips. “What if it’s a setup?”
“What’re the odds of that?”
Fuck if I knew.
I found the pliers and handed the bag over to my brother. Then I snuck the pliers and my arm as far as they went, and I squirmed around a bit to reach the latch on the inside.
“I’ll check the tablet and tell Jay to kill the alarm,” Boone said.
I grunted in response, my arm twisting uncomfortably, and managed to turn the latch.
“He’s still parked at the golf course,” he told me.
Yeah, well. This was the type of crap that made me paranoid. What if he’d found the tracker? What if he’d left it at the golf course to catch us? He could be pulling into the driveway right now.
We’d just have to be more careful. If we left a room, we brought our shit with us, in case we had to make a quick exit.
A couple minutes later, I got the go-ahead from Boone’s buddy. The security alarm would be off for the next two hours, and I didn’t waste a second. I pushed myself up and climbed through the window, and I landed on a polished hardwood floor in front of the staircase.
I held my breath for a few seconds, all my focus on my surroundings. Not that I didn’t trust this Jay guy, but…I didn’t trust this Jay guy. I could hardly trust my brother when I was busy running paranoid fears through my brain.
So far, so good.