“Are you sure that you still want to do this?” Rawlo asks, poring over the sketchy plans he and his boys have spent the last couple of weeks drawing up. When Mishawn, Jonathan, and Tremaine’s gazes jump up at him, he holds up his hands. “I’m not saying that I’m backing out, it’s just … this is starting to look like an awful lot of work.”
Jonathan stands up and stretches out his sore back. “Of course it’s a lot of work. It’s always a lot of work. What’s the problem?”
“Nothing,” Rawlo says, almost defensively.
“Well, I don’t mind admitting that I’m starting to have second thoughts,” Tremaine says. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done this. What if we get caught? I don’t want to spend my golden years in the slammer.”
“So what are you saying?” Jonathan challenges, tossing down his pen. “What happened to all that talk about fun and adventure?”
Mishawn pipes up. “Are you even sure that you can bypass their alarm system? Technology has definitely advanced since our heyday.”
Jonathan puffs up his chest. “Are you doubting my skills?”
“A little bit, yeah,” Mishawn says testily.
Two seconds later, the group of friends are in a full-scale argument until there’s a knock on the door.
“Fine. Let’s just call it off.” Jonathan storms toward the front door and then blinks in surprise. “Sandra!”
The boys behind him immediately start scraping things off the table—a bit loudly.
“Is this a bad time?” Sandra asks, trying to look over Jonathan’s shoulder to see what’s going on.
“Huh … just a moment.” He shuts the door in her face and then rushes back to the table to help put everything away. “Hurry. Hurry.”
“Why did you answer the door before we put it up?” Rawlo asks.
“Will you stop your bitching and hurry up!”
Sandra knocks again.
“Just a minute!”
When they get everything swept back into a large blue bin, the boys quickly take their places at the table and break out the playing cards.
“Sandra, come on in,” Jonathan pants, out of breath.
“What on earth are you boys doing in here?” she asks, inching into the house carrying a casserole dish.
“Hey, Sandy,” Rawlo greets with a wave.
The rest of the boys follow suit with heys and what’s ups. She smiles and waves back at them. “Hello.”
“What you got there?” Jonathan asks. “It smells good.”
“Oh, just a chicken-and-rice casserole. While I was making one for Jordan, I figured I’d just make another one for you. I hope you don’t mind.”
Jonathan shakes his head. “Now, why would I mind that?” They stand there and grin at each other until Mishawn coughs and clears his throat.
“Do we need to leave?”
When neither of them answers, the boys take the hint and start prying themselves out of their chairs. “Looks like this game is heading over to my place, boys,” Mishawn says.
They all chuckle as they say their good-byes and head out the door.
Once they’re gone, Sandra folds her arms and asks, “So what were you guys really doing?”
Jonathan shrugs while he heads toward the kitchen to put away the casserole. “Nothing. What makes you think that something is up?”
“Is that a real question?” she asks, following him. “I know you. And I definitely know when you’re lying.” She stops and leans against the refrigerator. “You can either tell me now or I’ll go and take a peek inside that blue bin in the dining room.
Jonathan blinks.
“Aha!” She waves a finger at him but doesn’t erase the smile from her face. “You’ll never change, will you?”
“Actually, I’ve changed a lot. It was just all too late,” he admits, moving in close.
“I don’t know. Lately I’m of the mind that it’s never too late.” She loops her arms around his neck. “We’ve all made mistakes.”
“Are you talking about us or that peanut-head husband of yours?”
“Soon to be ex-husband,” she reminds him.
“Sooo, does that make me Mr. Rebound?” he asks.
“No.” She shakes her head and draws a deep breath. “I don’t know whether you’ll believe me, but… I’ve never stopped loving you. I resented what you did. I was always afraid that you’d land in jail and leave me to raise a kid on my own.”
“Security was always important you,” he says. “I realize that. Admittedly, a little late.”
“And now?”
“And now?”
She cocks her head at him. “C’mon. You can tell me. I watch the news. And you know who’s splashed all over it lately? The Jackal.”
Jonathan laughs. “Oh, please. You don’t seriously think …?”
“So you mean to tell me that if I go peek inside that bin, I’m not going to find plans of you and your buddies’ next hit?”
He clamps his mouth shut.
“Yeah. I thought so.” She starts laughing. “You have to give it up,” she says. “If we’re going to try again, then you’re going to have to stop.”
Jonathan’s lips curl into a smile. “You want to try again?”
“Why not? Better late than never.”
Jonathan draws her body up against his and pulls her sweet lips into a long kiss. Sandra moans and tightens her arms around him. After all these years, the time just feels so right. But if he is going to do this, then he needs to be up front and honest with her.
“I have a few things I need to tell you,” he says.
Sandra braces herself at his serious tone. “What is it?” She steps out of his arms. “You’re not seeing someone else, are you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’m not who you think I am.”
She laughs. “You’re not?”
“Well, I’m not currently who you think I am. I’m not the Jackal who’s all over the news. None of us are.”
Sandra folds her arms. “Really?”
“Really.” He takes her hand. “And if you go look in that bin, you will find some plans of me and the boys looking to get back in the game. But we haven’t pulled a job, and it doesn’t look like we’re going to either—which is probably a good thing since I haven’t figured out how we’re going to get Rawlo through the ventilation system.”
Sandra laughs. “Are you for real?”
“Afraid so.” He shrugs. “I think we’re just a group of men who miss the action. The adrenaline shot. The danger.”
“At least Jordan got it honestly.”
“Robyn,” he corrected.
Sandra starts to argue but finally gives in. “Robyn.”
Jonathan pulls her face into another kiss, but there’s one more thing that he needs to confess. “If we’re going to try this, there’s something else I have to tell you. Something I haven’t told anyone else.”
“It sounds serious.”
“It is.” He takes in a deep breath. “I went to a doctor last week. I’m sick.”
“How sick?” Sandra asks suspiciously.
Jonathan hesitates again. “It’s not good. I have cancer. He says that it’s inoperable and I … The doctor gave me about six months to a year.”
“What?” She tries to pull away. “Is this some type of sick joke?”
“No. I’m afraid not.” He drops his head. “And like I said, I haven’t told anyone. I don’t want anyone treating me like I’m sick. I don’t think that I can stand that.” He glances at her. “I think it’s what really got this foolish notion in my head about pulling one last score. But I know now I’m just fooling myself. Those days are long gone. I need to concentrate on the here and now.” He picks up her hand again. “I’m hoping that’s me and you.”
“I don’t believe it,” Sandra says, shaking her head. “I won’t believe it. We’ll get a second and a third opinion. We’ll fight this.”
Jonathan smiles tenderly. “I don’t want you to have
false hope. That’s not fair to you.”
“And I don’t want you to just lie down and die,” she insists with a new fire lighting her eyes. “This was just one doctor, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” Sandra shakes her head. “We’re going to fight this, and we’re going to win.”
“I love you,” he confesses. “I’ve always loved you. And one of these days, I’m going to put a ring on you. But I think I have to get a job first.”
“Ring or no ring, I’m your woman.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cloaked in black, the Jackal climbs into the black SUV four blocks away. Not until the vehicle is rolling does the mask come off and the criminal breathes a sigh of relief.
“So how did you do?”
I jump at the bass booming from the backseat and nearly swerves the car off the road. Heart pounding, I glance up into the rearview mirror and meet a pair of familiar brown eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Pull over,” he barks.
I hesitate.
“Now,” Keston commands calmly.
Drawing a deep breath, I pull over and wait. When the silence stretches for too long, I start getting nervous. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
“What would you like for me to say?” he asks evenly.
“I don’t know. I guess you can tell me what tipped you off.” I glance into the rearview. “Or how long you’ve known.”
“It has more to do with your DNA than anything you did. And since there are just a small group of people who even know about our fathers’ past criminal activities, the chances of anyone else putting the pieces together is slim to none.”
I nod and fold my arms. “So now what?”
“You mean now that you have to admit that you haven’t exactly been honest about who you are?” he challenges.
I toss up my hands. “All right. You got me. I grew up listening to my father’s tales about him and my uncles doing all these daredevil heists. He used to show me newspaper clippings of the places they hit, and it all sounded exciting. He left the world guessing as to who he was.” I shake my head as I reflect on those memories. “I used to love how he snuck into my room in the middle of the night—even though it used to drive my mom crazy.”
“So you wanted to take his place?” he asks.
“I guess at first I wanted to see if I could do it,” I admit. “It was stupid and I was scared. After all, there were four Jackals. But after the first job and the police didn’t bang my door down, I guess I got a little more confident. I started planning bigger and bigger jobs and … It was never about the money. In fact, I’ve never spent any of it. Can’t, really. My former job monitors agents’ financial records.”
“Former job?” Keston questions.
“Yeah.” I draw a deep breath. “I sort of quit today. They’re a bunch of assholes anyway.” I feel a sudden rush of tears come on. “So now what? Are you going to call the police? Turn me over to the FBI?”
“Don’t have to.” He tosses something up to the front seat, and I turn and pick it up. To my shock I’m staring at an FBI badge. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Nope.”
I whip around in my seat to stare into his face. “Are you arresting me?”
He doesn’t answer.
My heart starts racing again. “You’d do that?”
“It’s my job, isn’t it?”
“Keston … I … don’t believe this.” Tears start trickling down my face. “I’ll stop. I promise.”
He shakes his head.
“Just like that?” I ask, incredulous. “What we shared means nothing?”
“It didn’t seem to when you cut me out of your life,” he says.
“I was angry. I didn’t mean it,” I say. “I’ve been waiting for days for your call. I love you.”
“Humph. It’s a funny time for you to admit that,” he says dubiously.
“I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. And it doesn’t make sense because we haven’t known each other that long. But I swear to you that I’m not lying.”
His expression doesn’t change. “Turn around and drive.”
“Keston—”
“TURN AROUND AND DRIVE!”
I jump and then do what he says. My tears start streaming at a faster pace while my mind races. What will my parents say? My friends? My colleagues? The media? Funny, I had gotten so successful at pulling off these bank robberies that I’d long ruled out the possibility of ever getting caught. I thought I was too good.
After five minutes of silence, I take another glance in the rearview mirror. Keston’s dark gaze is still blazing into me. “I want you to know that even though you’re doing this, I meant what I said.”
Silence.
I return my attention to the road while occasionally swiping my eyes.
“Get off at the next exit,” Keston says, surprising me.
I glance back at him, but he’s now avoiding my eyes. I get off at the next exit.
“Take a right at the light.”
“Where are we going?”
Keston doesn’t answer. He just continues to bark out directions until I realize that we’re taking the back way to my house. “I wouldn’t breathe a sigh of relief just yet if I were you,” he says. “I still haven’t made up my mind about what I’m going to do.”
I nod, but I can’t help but feel a flicker of hope that he’s not going to turn me in. It’s around midnight by the time we pull into my driveway and I shut off the engine.
We sit in the car another five minutes before Keston says, “Just so we’re clear, I meant what I said the other day too. I love you, but we have ourselves in a pretty fucked-up situation.”
“Does anybody else know about me?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but that’s hardly the point, now, is it?”
“I guess not.”
He nods. “Get out of the car.”
I reach for the door and grab the bag from tonight’s heist. When we climb out of the vehicle and march toward my front door, I’m still searching my mind for the right words. But the bottom line is that this whole thing is out of my control. I slip the key into the lock and enter the house.
“Have a seat,” he orders.
I make a beeline for the sofa in the living room and wait. He follows and takes the easy chair next to the window. For another five minutes we just stare at each other as if we’re waiting for someone to call or join us. When I can’t stand the silence any longer, I ask, “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind,” he says honestly.
I try to look understanding while I fight myself not to start begging. Looking at him now, I’m reminded of the first night we met. He looked dangerous and sexy at the same time. It seems like no one in my life is who they appear to be. My father, my partner, my lover, and even myself. We’re all masters of disguise.
Finally, Keston stands back up and walks over to me. “Stand up”
Nervous, I swallow the large lump in my throat and stand up.
“You love me?” he asks.
I nod.
“Look at me.”
I force my eyes up and stare at him. For the first time, I can see so many different emotions written on his face. I’m stunned because up until now, he has always managed to keep himself calm, cool, and collected.
“Show me how much you love me.” He lifts my chin and then lowers his hungry lips onto mine.
On contact, my mind is blown as I melt against his hard body. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized just how hungry I am for his touch. We start tearing at each other’s clothes. After I explode in his hot mouth, I run my tongue down the side of his neck while I rip the buttons off his shirt and expose the chest that I love so much.
Keston pulls my warm turtleneck over my head and then fills his hands with my firm D-cups. My hands fall to the front of his pants so I can massage the long imprint of his dic
k. Instantly my clit starts swelling and thumping in anticipation.
“C’mon, baby. Don’t play with him. Show him how much you love him.”
I’m more than glad to do that shit, because I miss this big muthafucker like nobody’s business. I sink to my knees and unzip his jeans. While Keston rolls them down over his hips, I’m busy pulling his gorgeous cock out of his boxers. Shit. I’d almost forgotten how pretty his shit is. Going straight for the head, I stretch my mouth open wide and slide him all the way to the back of my throat on the first stroke.
Keston releases a long hiss and immediately starts to drip some of his salty tang on my tongue. “Fuck, baby. Nobody does this shit like you do.”
For that compliment, I give a good jawbreaker and listen to him hiss and moan. Pretty soon I’m licking, slurping, and popping my mouth all up and down his dick, and then I lift that muthafucka up to service his balls with a good tongue-bathing.
“Aww. Yeah,” Keston continues his praises even as he turns to sit down on the sofa.
I don’t miss a beat, bobbing my head up and down and then running my tongue all around his shit.
“Stand up,” he orders. “Get up here and put that shit in my face.”
I quickly remove the rest of my clothes and go to stand over him on the sofa and then squat down to put my entire pussy right on his mouth. The second that fat tongue starts snaking all around my clit, my knees fold and I have to lean against the wall in order to hold myself up.
Once Keston gets hold of my pussy, he doesn’t want to let it go. He sucks, nips, and pulls on it until I’m just pouring honey down his throat. Every time I think I’m going to fall, he smacks me on the ass and tells me to stand back up. But soon it all becomes too much, and I tilt over and fall down on the sofa’s thick cushion.
“That pussy looks like it’s about ready,” he says, standing up. “Is that pussy ready for Daddy to tear it up?”
“Oh, fuck yes.”
“How do you want, it baby? On the sofa or on the floor? Get into position.”
I climb up on my knees on the edge of the sofa and then brace my hands on the back of it.
“Is that how you want it, Ma?”
“Yes, baby.” I twerk my ass up at him. “I want it all.”
Heist Page 18