The Siren Job (Stolen Hearts Crew Book 1)

by Katya Moore

  “Hey, you’re the one who blocked me,” Luxe said. “Your chill professional veneer was on point, and I didn’t stand a chance. At least, not from one casual hallway encounter. If I’d gotten the chance, I might have…”

  “Might’ve what?” I arched a brow at him, daring him to continue.

  He flashed me a grin that melted my panties clean off. “Might’ve shown you what I’m really capable of.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Amarok chose that moment to walk into the room.

  “All right, people. Enough fucking around. We’ve got business to discuss.”

  Amarok sat in the cleanest of the armchairs and rested his elbows on his knees. He pressed his palms together and leaned his forehead against the steepled fingertips.

  “We never got a chance to formally introduce ourselves,” he said.

  “I…had places to be,” I replied coolly.

  He chuckled softly at that. “And now you’ve come full circle. Welcome back.”

  I deflated a little bit at that. He had me there. “Thanks.” I kept the wavering out of my voice. Good.

  His smile was warm and welcoming. I’d say paternal if my thoughts about him were purer. Let’s just say it was a nice smile and leave it there. “People call me Amarok. Roc, to my friends. I’m happy to include you in that. I coordinate things for the crew.”

  I nodded wordlessly. I wanted to be included in that.

  He inclined his head toward Luxe. “You’ve met the brothers, Luxe and Feral. Luxe is our inside man. Feral is…” He paused, looking for the right words. “Our driver. And he keeps the crew safe.”

  I looked at Feral out of the corner of my eye, taking in the muscles upon muscles. I could only imagine how he kept them safe. I wouldn’t want to be the person making them unsafe.

  “Kit is our hacker, as you have likely figured out for yourself. Surveillance, communications, information retrieval, security. He does it all.” Kit was lost in his technology, or just trying to avoid making eye contact with me again. I think I might have scared him. I’m told I have that effect on men when the Bitch comes over me.

  “And Corvus is…” Amarok repressed a smile.

  Cory gave me a challenging look. “I’m a thief, citizen. I steal shit. No apologies.”

  “I didn’t ask for one.” I met his gaze and his attitude with as much fuck-you as I could summon. It was enough. He gave me a slow nod of almost-approval and went back to his looming.

  “So your momma named you Amarok?” I asked dryly.

  A murmur of laughter surrounded me.

  “They’re street names, taxpayer,” Cory said in a snide voice. “Real names are liabilities. Real names have power.”

  “In an arcane and a legal sense,” Roc added. “Mages can use your real name against you. So can the cops. Anyone who gets into our line of work uses pseudonyms.”

  “I see.” They don’t even trust each other with their real names. How am I supposed to trust them?

  “Luxe, did you brief her about our work?” Amarok…Roc asked.

  Luxe smiled at me. “We discussed it in passing, yes.”

  Roc gave him a hard look.

  “Yes,” Luxe said, straightening up in his seat.

  Roc continued. “So you’ve heard about our client. He gives us leads on arcane artifacts, we take them out, we get them to him, and he disposes of them.”

  I felt my brow start to rise. “And you trust him to dispose of them instead of just keeping them for himself?”

  Roc let his hands drop. “I can’t say too much about him, but what I can say is that he’s on our side. He’s built an empire on helping people and making the world a better place, and he’s a high-ranking shifter. I’ve known him a long time, and I trust him. I can’t say that about too many people. I know you know what that’s like.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek and nodded slowly. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “We’re expecting a call from him in a few minutes.” Roc met my eyes. “I think you can help each other. He regrets you getting caught up in the Glory job, but he thinks you might have come away with information that can help take her down.”

  “Why does he want to take her down?” I asked.

  Roc shrugged. “We’ll find out soon. Kit, you got the comm lines set up?”

  Kit placed his laptop on the wobbly coffee table, then shoved a folded piece of paper under a leg to stabilize it. “All set, boss.”

  “Let’s take that call.”

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” The smooth computerized voice of Selexia, SparxWorx’s virtual assistant, greeted us. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Roc’s voice was formal. “What can we help you with?”

  “We need to go back to Mother Glory. She has another artifact, one that she holds very dear. We need to take it from her.”

  “We may have burned that bridge,” Roc said. His brow furrowed. “I told you about the last job. She has our faces now. We’re not going to get close to her easily.”

  “You have something she wants, correct?”

  I felt as though someone dumped a bucket of ice water on me. I gripped the couch cushion with both hands, sinking my nails into the shabby fabric. Luxe put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I didn’t resist.

  “The Ia Picmont gown is still in your possession, correct?” Selexia’s words restarted my heart. “Perhaps Andres could make a reappearance, with the gown, to get close to her.”

  Luxe released me and leaned in toward the laptop. “I could do that. I told the guards I was taking it for repairs. I could contact her, tell her that I’ve still got it, and oh this was all a big misunderstanding and I just turned on the news and… yeah, I think I can pull that off.”

  “Good. I need you to get her necklace.”

  I felt my jaw slacken a bit.

  “That’s no problem. I have full access to her jewelry collection as her wardrobe manager…” Luxe began, then looked bewildered as I shook my head.

  “Her necklace. The Soul’s Tears.” The computerized voice was the lone bastion of calm in the room. I looked around at the crew. Roc’s jaw was set, grim as the grave. Luxe’s smile held a manic gleam. Feral’s eyes were dark as he calculated dangers I couldn’t even imagine. Cory had a slow spreading smile on his face, fingers twitching in a grabby motion. Kit looked ready to pass out.

  “The Soul’s Tears are the key to her rise to fame. The key to her power over her fans. They hold dark magic, and she channels that magic at her shows to win the hearts and minds of everyone who listens.”

  An unquiet feeling filled me. I thought back to the meeting in her Sanctum, when she’d asked me to help her. Anything, I’d said. And I meant it. In that moment, I would have done anything for her. I’d have killed for her. I’d have died for her. And I almost did.

  I thought back to my mom’s back room.

  Her power grows.

  The power of the gods beyond.

  The power of the blood moon.

  Her moon.

  The crescent, held in cold brass hands, tipped in stones of blood.

  “The concert,” I gasped.

  “Who is that?” Selexia asked.

  Roc’s jaw clenched tighter. I shrank back into my seat. Oops.

  “A new member of the team. Please, continue.”

  “Who is listening in on this conversation, Amarok?”

  “My name is…” I began.

  “Not important.” Roc gave me a warning look. No real names, he mouthed.

  “I was the one who read the scroll. The one Glory’s taken a hit out on. The fall guy. I want in on this. I want to help. I want to take her down.”

  There was a long pause. Roc ran a hand over his face.

  “You’re perceptive, whoever you are. Her next concert is her largest yet, and she plans to put that necklace to good use. She’s building power. For what, I’m not sure, and that worries me. First the scroll, then the concert, then the world tour.” I
t was surreal, hearing a voice that usually gave GPS directions calmly dictate an evil overlord’s plan for world domination. It felt like a prank, but no one was laughing, least of all me.

  “What was that scroll?” I asked.

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” Selexia said. “You’re the one who read it.”

  I stared at my feet. “I don’t remember much.” I decided that the mystery client didn’t need to know about my glowy-eyed visions just yet.

  “Anything you remember could be very helpful in our mission. Please keep me in the loop.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll leave you to your plans. Amarok, we’ll discuss this new member in private.” The robot’s words sent a chill through me. I felt guilty for whatever fresh hell I’d unleashed on Roc.

  “All right, crew, disperse. Luxe, show our new recruit her quarters.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Well, this takes me back.”

  It was a dorm room, no mistake. White walls with fragments of taped posters from years gone by. Two steel-framed twin beds, bare mattresses covered in stains I’d rather not consider the source of. Two simple wooden desks with well-worn hard wooden chairs. A large shelf with a floating horizontal pole beneath it in place of a closet.

  “Not exactly the Mondrian, I know,” Luxe said as he surveyed the room. “We can push the beds together for you.” I shot him a brow. He was all innocence. “In case you like more sleep space. Heavens, you have a dirty mind.”

  He had no idea. Having him standing next to me in an empty bedroom made it hard to think of anything pure. I was really starting to doubt my sanity. There was something about this band of bandits that got my body going.

  Professional liar, Alex. I don’t care how hot that ass is. Oh my god, how hot IS that ass?

  He pushed the beds together for me, leaning over them in a deliciously provocative way as he did. I had no doubt that he knew exactly what he was doing, as that tight, majestic ass never swung out of view, and his rolled-up sleeves revealed forearms that knew the benefits of a personal trainer. Absently, I ran my fingers along the neckline of my shell blouse, letting in a little air to cool me down.

  “Alex?”

  “Hmm?” I snapped back to the planet and turned to face Feral. “Oh. Hi. I was…he was…”

  I will never, ever play poker with Feral. His face was carefully neutral. Only his eyes betrayed his mirth. “I’m sure he’s being very helpful. But you’re going to need some things to make this room comfortable. Roc suggested I take you out.”

  My chest tightened with anxiety. “Don’t suppose I can stop home, huh?”

  Feral shook his head. “I think you can safely write off your place for the foreseeable future. If the cops don’t get you, Kit says you’ve been dicked.”

  My eyes widened. Then, I laughed, despite the seriousness of the situation. “Doxxed!” The laugh died in my throat. “Fuck.”

  “He said that your address is all over the Internet right now. We haven’t checked it out, but unless the cops are protecting it, it’s probably been trashed ten times over by now.” Feral’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

  I leaned back against a chair and closed my eyes. My books. My clothes. My books. Dammit.

  “I can go there. See if I can recover anything for you.” Feral shifted awkwardly. “I might be able to slip past the cops. Cory’d be better, but I can do it in a pinch.”

  “No. I don’t want you getting in trouble on my account.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “It’s just stuff. I can get more stuff.”

  “We can get you stuff. Stuff can happen.” Luxe turned to face us with a mischievous grin. “We’re going shopping! Can I help? Andres is on the case!” He made a flourishing gesture with his hands.

  “Too soon, man. Too soon.” Feral gave him a firm smack on the back of the head. Luxe looked wounded.

  I rolled my eyes and turned toward the door. “I need a change of clothes and some sheets at the very least. Come on.”

  “If he finds out she’s a half-breed, we’re in so much shit. He has access to the cleanup squads. He’ll clean us all up. With extreme prejudice.”

  “He’s not going to find out she’s a half-breed. He’s especially not going to find out she’s a mystic. Because we’re not going to tell him. Right?”

  “Of course not. I mean, I’m a thieving piece of shit, but I’m not a snitch.”

  Cory. Roc.

  I held my hand up to Luxe and Feral, pausing them in their tracks. They looked at me quizzically but waited.

  “She’s an outcast. Same as you, same as me, same as the whole crew. We got her into this mess. We’re going to get her out, clean as we can. And you’re going to treat her with the same respect you treat the rest of us. Preferably more.”

  “She’s a taxpayer. A citizen. She’s not one of us.”

  “She is now. So shut it and play nice.”

  I planted a foot firmly on the stairs, forcing a loud creak. The voices fell silent.

  I led Luxe and Feral down the stairs. “The brothers are taking me out to pick up some things. Need anything?”

  Roc crossed his arms. “I need you to let them pay. No stubborn pride. Your credit cards are being traced, and your bank account is locked down.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Kit’ll get your money back. He’s been draining bank accounts since he hit puberty. But we’ve got you covered for now.”

  I looked around the room. “Are you sure you’ve got the money for that?”

  Roc followed my gaze and laughed. “Don’t let our luxurious accommodations fool you. We’ve got more than adequate revenue streams to cover anything you need. We needed someplace with a lot of bedrooms and neighbors who didn’t care about late-night comings and goings. This does the job. Renovations draw attention.”

  “A little paint wouldn’t kill us, though,” Cory said, frowning at the walls.

  “You’re the artist, Corvus. You get on that.” Roc nudged his head toward the door. “You kids get out of here. Keep your heads down and your wig on. Feral’s got your back.”

  “And I’ve got your front,” Luxe murmured.

  Sandwich.

  I stomped on that thought hard and headed out the front door.

  “This is my neighborhood.” I slumped down in the backseat, panic surging through me. “Are you guys mental? We’re going to get caught.”

  “Watch the professionals in action,” Luxe said with a confident grin. We parked several houses down from my townhouse. “See. The cops are right there, in that black car.”

  I looked. It was nearly identical to the one staking out my mom’s tea shop, right down to the two high-and-tight-haired men with no necks in the front seats.

  “So, obviously, we can’t go in my apartment,” I said.

  Luxe waved his hand dismissively. “You and Feral take a nice romantic stroll up the block. I’ll take care of the Five-O.”

  I gritted my teeth and summoned all the cool I could find. Feral offered me his arm, and I took it with trembling fingers. Whether it was nerves or the feel of those powerful muscles, I wasn’t sure.

  “Why are you two doing this?” I asked quietly as we ambled up the sidewalk. “This is insanity. We’ll all get caught.”

  Feral chuckled and leaned down, brushing my ear with his lips. “You act like we’ve never done this before. And we love a challenge.”

  The tremor in my hands spread through my body. Stop it stop it stop it. “Well, I’ve never done this before.”

  “I’ll walk you through it.” Feral placed his hand over mine. “Luxe is going to do something incredibly dramatic and overplayed right next to that cop car. Probably a medical event. A heart attack, explosive herpes, something like that.” I stifled a giggle. “Then we slip in, grab your most precious belongings, and scamper off into the night.” He tapped my hand with a finger. “Only the most precious ones. Whatever you can fit into that purse.”

  I tugged the tote onto my shoulder and n
odded. “It should be enough.”

  “Then, shopping.” He chuffed under his breath. “Luxe is going to want Rodeo Drive. I’m thinking the grubbiest ArrowMart we can find. We’ll find a compromise in a nice strip mall somewhere, and get you what you need.”

  I looked up. We were about twenty feet from my townhouse. The door was slightly ajar. My heart lurched in my chest.

  “What if someone’s in there? What if…?”

  “OH MY GOD! MY LEG! I’VE BROKEN MY LEG!”

  “That’s our cue.” Feral propelled me toward the townhouse door as the two cops jumped out of the car to tend to a flailing Luxe.

  I closed the door behind us and took a few deep, cleansing breaths.

  A voice from behind me froze the breath in my throat.

  “Oh, hello. I did hope you’d join us.”

  There were six of them, all armed with bats or lengths of pipe, all male, all branded with Glory’s emblem on their inner arms.

  “Your friend’s going to leave. You’re coming with us.” Their leader was a stocky young man, maybe twenty, gym-rat build with a hint of steroids. He tapped a chain-wrapped bat in his palm.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Feral snarled. “You’re going to walk out of here through the back door, or you’re going to get carried out of here in a body bag.”

  Raucous laughter ensued.

  Then, all hell broke loose.

  I wrapped my hands tightly over my mouth to stifle my scream as Feral threw himself into the group of thugs. A head snapped back. I heard the crack of bone, the cry of pain. Meaty thuds. A skinny kid, maybe eighteen, flew across the room and slammed into my sofa, tipping it backward.

  “Get your gear!” Feral shouted, then grunted as one of the thugs connected a fist to his jaw.

  I sprang into action. With a tiny panicked squeal rising in the back of my throat, I leaped over the fallen couch and the sprawled teenager and dove for my bedroom. I heard a snarl behind me, an animal sound, like a large cat. Screams rang out. I ran faster. The sounds of combat faded behind me as I slammed my bedroom door.