Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline)

by Sparrow Beckett

  Her mother sighed. “I know you love my parents, too, Roger, but what about us? Where are we going to live?”

  “If we invest the money, we might be able to pay rent on one of the married units at the home for your parents, and buy a decent older condo. Addison is grown up now. I’m sure she could handle it.”

  Addison wanted her grandparents together and happy more than anything, but a small, selfish part of her would be sad to let go of the house where she’d grown up. She’d always thought she’d buy her parents out when they decided they wanted to downsize, but she was nowhere near financially ready for that. But even if she had the cash on hand, owning a house at her age? It seemed so . . . final.

  “I guess we could get an appraisal, in case we decide to go that route.” The way her parents were gazing at each other, as though in silent communication, made her think they were getting used to the idea, which worried her. She wasn’t okay with it. Not just for her sake, but for her parents’. They had put so much time into this house. They loved it here and were close to their neighbors and would happily have lived here forever if money hadn’t gotten in the way.

  If only she could get money fast. There was the car thing, but how could she even sell a boosted car? Fox knew the answer to that—but would he tell her?

  Speaking of which, she checked the tracking app she’d designed for her phone. Fox was on the move, heading toward the city. Abruptly, she stood up, bumping the table.

  “Where are you going?” her mother asked.

  “Uhh.” She stared at her phone, itching to be on the road with him. “I have someone I . . . have to see.” Another truth. “It’s important.” On her way to the door, she grabbed her purse off the coffee table.

  “Wait!” her mom cried, following her. “I made you a new pillow.” She plucked a pink puffy square from the couch and shoved it into Addison’s arms.

  She winced and looked down at the gift. In purple stitching, it read I’D RATHER BE IN PARIS. It could join the other fifty needlepoint pillows on her bed, but how could she say no to something her mother made with love? She kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom. I love it.” She desperately needed a grandchild to spoil. Just not anytime in the next decade.

  “See you next week, honey.”

  She gave her mom a quick hug then flew to the door. “Love you, Dad!” she shouted on her way out.

  In her car, she set up her phone on the dash so she could follow Fox’s trail. She cleared her concern for her grandparents from her mind. She tried not to think about how upset her family would be if they discovered her half-baked plan. They’d say her own future was more important than her grandpa being comfortable at the end of his life. But watching Gran and Gramps suffer was too much for her or her parents to bear.

  She barely kept from tearing up. If she was going to get Fox’s help, she had to be smooth, not emotional.

  Focus. Think about the quarry.

  A visual of the sexy thief rose in her mind, distracting her from thoughts of how short a time people were given on this earth.

  He was going to be so pissed when he realized she’d planted a tracking device on his car. What would he do when he found out? The possibilities were delicious and made her want to tell him as soon as possible. Her imagination started to build fantasies about his possible reactions, fed by the memory of his body pressed up against hers, the way he took control when he kissed her, commanding her with his mouth.

  Ugh. She could come from another kiss like that. Sexy, evil man.

  Time to push that out of her mind and focus. She had a fox to catch.

  ***

  Rave music poured into the hot night every time the door to the club opened and a patron walked out. There were more leaving than being allowed in. She grunted in frustration.

  He was in there. Fox. He’d walked in with two other men. She’d watched them enter from the street after she’d tracked his car to the garage around the corner.

  The line to get into the rooftop club stretched down the sidewalk. Earlier, when she’d realized they were heading into the ritzy place, she’d had to improvise a new outfit. The night clubs on the strip were notorious for being picky about the look of their patrons. Her friend and roommate, Mariella, had left a bag in the back of the car after they’d gone shopping last weekend. Luckily, Addison hadn’t returned it to her yet. She’d pulled on the black miniskirt and traded her sneakers for the gold pumps, hoping her friend wouldn’t mind sharing. Using the scissors from the first aid kit her father insisted she had in the car, she’d cut away her black fitted T-shirt to show cleavage and her belly button. The lip gloss and eyeliner at the bottom of her purse proved to be godsends. Though the skirt was a little too short for comfort, and her pinky toes were numb, she looked good enough to get into the club.

  If only she could get past this line. If the rest of the girls weren’t also wearing miniskirts and pumps, she might have stood a chance of skipping ahead with a little thrust and smile at the doorman. But Addison wasn’t tall and model-hot by Vegas nightclub standards.

  Three people walked out the door and the bouncer finally let one in. Ugh. By the time she got into the club, Fox would be gone. Time for a new plan.

  She felt around in her bag until her keys jingled in her palm. On her key ring, there was a rectangular box that scanned for car alarm frequencies. She’d made it a couple of weeks ago and had been waiting for a reason to try it. If she pressed the right combination of buttons, it should make every car alarm within a half mile radius go off at the same time. It might cause enough of a distraction for her to slip past the line and the doorman.

  Keeping her hand in the bag, she keyed in the combo and a few seconds later, dozens of car alarms pierced through the night. Vegas was a loud place by nature—with beeping slot machines, drunk partiers shouting in the streets, and music blaring from every club and restaurant on the strip. But the alarms cut through the background noise, and soon a good number of people in line were talking about checking on their cars.

  Addison covertly watched the doorman, grinning to herself that her invention worked. With the line restless, he stepped out of the doorway to peer down the street and try to calm concerned patrons. She rushed out onto the sidewalk and toward the door, pretending to be confused and searching her bag for her keys. At the club entrance, she waited until the bouncer wasn’t looking then slipped into the darkness.

  The heavy beat of the music vibrated from the floor through her body. The green neon lighting hurt her eyes. The lower level was mainly the dance floor with a bar on one side. Bodies gyrated and collided under the pulsing lights. Pushing past the crowd, she headed to the elevator. Somehow she knew Fox would be on the rooftop, not on the dance floor.

  Even the elevator blasted club music under the neon lights. She looked down then slammed her knees shut. The elevator floor was a mirror.

  “Jesus Christ,” she murmured.

  Addison had never been a partier. In high school, when kids her age had snuck into places like this, she’d stayed home to tinker with her gadgets. Once she’d realized the market for fake IDs was huge, she’d started making them, collecting hefty profits that helped her afford the equipment she liked to take apart and rebuild.

  Luckily, the couple in the elevator with her were too busy making out to care about what underwear she had on. She yanked on her skirt, willing it to miraculously lengthen two inches. The elevator dinged, then the doors opened, and she rushed out onto the roof.

  The building was at least ten stories high, overlooking the south end of the strip. The lighting was more natural here—big round bulbs casting dim yellow over the space. A decorative overhang covered half the club, with round tables underneath. Farther toward the edge of the roof, cushioned upscale patio furniture formed cozier nooks for people to sit and chat. Waiters dressed all in black carried trays of drinks to the patrons. In the middle of the space, a lit-up fou
ntain gave a serene feeling so different from the lower club level. Her eyes were glad for the break from the assaultive blinking lights.

  A cool breeze swept through and she grabbed her skirt before it decided it was a belt. Feeling more than a little out of place, she scanned the crowd for Fox.

  She spotted his hair first—its lightness stood out against the dark sky. By the edge of the crowd, he stood in a circle with three other men, his back facing her. Trying her best to walk with poise, despite the torture devices Mariella called shoes, she made her way toward the edge of the building, skirting Fox’s group. She wanted him to give her a shot on his team, she didn’t want to ruin his business transactions. Or whatever he was doing. In a trendy place like this she’d bet a lot of underhanded deals went down.

  A half wall separated the club from the edge of the building and she rested her palms on the coolness, peering out at the city below. Everything looked so small and insignificant from up above. The people bustling around below, cars honking their horns in a pointless bid to get through traffic faster, flashing lights of all colors . . . A busy world full of self-important people. And what did it all mean? Their lives—her life—was a blink of an eye in the spectrum of time. That was exactly why she felt like she had to live it to its fullest. Whether she spent twenty-five years or a hundred and five years on earth—what did it matter if she didn’t enjoy it?

  “If you wanted to go on a date,” a familiar voice said from behind her, “you could’ve just asked.”

  Startled, she spun to face the voice. Fox was there. Close. Too close. And he’d caught her off guard, making her lose some of her previous composure. Feeling flushed, she stood up straighter and forced her mask of confidence into place.

  He prowled the few steps between them, looking especially sexy in his gray button-down shirt and dark slacks. For all his scruff, his long Mohawk, and the tattoos exposed by his rolled up sleeves, the man still cleaned up well.

  “You know what I want,” she said, her voice shakier than she’d have liked. “But if it takes a date to get it, then sign me up.”

  Eyes narrowed, he stepped in so close that she felt the heat from his body and caught his clean scent. She almost groaned.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “What? The Mix is one of my favorite hangouts.”

  “It’s called The Minx.”

  Caught. “Um. Right. That’s what I meant.” The Minx? Really? She turned to look out onto the city again, just to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

  He followed her, pressing himself against her back, pinning her in place with his thighs against hers. Her traitorous body reacted—a ball of lust forming low in her belly and her heart pounding like a drum solo at a rock concert.

  She glanced to either side, but no one was watching them. In a place like this, she doubted anyone cared what a couple was doing in a dark corner.

  “You don’t give up, do you?” he breathed in her ear.

  “Never.” She chuckled nervously, trying to clear away some of the tension and slow her breathing. “Persistence is one of my many assets.”

  He trailed a hand boldly up her thigh, then brought his other around her waist, stroking her bare stomach. The hand on her thigh moved to her ass, manhandling her as if he owned her. It made her fucking melt. “I thought I told you to stay away,” he growled.

  Her knees buckled and she leaned her upper body against the wall. God, she didn’t even care that they were in public. If he wanted to fuck her right there, she’d let him.

  Ugh. Why did her self-respect disappear whenever he was nearby? She wasn’t supposed to let it be about this. She needed to stop letting lust control her and stay on task.

  Pushing from the wall, she turned around and glared at him. His arms followed her movement, trapping her on either side. “I’m not in the habit of obeying men I barely know.”

  I will not kiss him. I will not rub up against him like a bitch in heat.

  “That’s inconvenient. I’m used to women obeying me. Another reason you wouldn’t work well with my team.”

  She arched a brow. “Maybe you need to be challeng—”

  His mouth came down on hers, interrupting her comeback.

  Damn. The man kissed her in ways that boggled her mind, and made her think of him using his talented tongue in other, better places. As if on cue, he pressed his hand hard against her pussy, making her jolt up onto her toes. She gasped.

  He pulled back just far enough to watch her. “Hm?” He found her clit with his finger over her panties and tapped it. Fuuuuck. Hot and he had good aim. “What were you saying?”

  She wanted to spit a hundred curse words at him but goddamn him, she couldn’t even make a sound. Not only because her brain seemed to have short-circuited but for fear the people in the club would know what they were doing. As it was, he had her pinned to the wall, but mostly shielded with his body.

  At first glance, they’d seem to be in a passionate embrace, but if she drew attention by moaning too loud, they’d see Fox’s hand was up her skirt. The adrenaline coursing through her gave her almost the same high as stealing cars.

  His dark chuckle made her want to grind up against his hand. She let out a very quiet but undignified moan instead.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he purred in her ear.

  “Please, no!”

  He moved his hand from around her waist to thread in her hair. “Fuck, you make me crazy.”

  The feeling was mutual.

  His lips lowered to hers. “I can’t seem to control myself around you.” He kissed her softly, using his teeth to nip and play. The sensations, paired with what his hand was doing to her pussy, made her almost willing to beg. When she moaned again, he swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing her more deeply.

  Too soon, he pulled away. “So fucking cocky one minute,” he said as he kissed his way from her chin to her ear. His beard tickled and she fought not to squirm. “Then docile and doe-eyed the next.”

  Did he say docile? She opened her mouth to protest but teeth grazed her jaw and her eyes rolled back in her head. He slipped his finger under her panties. Sliding through her wetness, he circled her clit.

  “Oh god!” she cried, gripping at his back.

  “And so responsive,” he rasped. “What I wouldn’t give to tie you up and find out how loud you’d scream for me.”

  She choked, tensing against the press of his body, already on the brink. His finger slid into her, and his thumb stroked her clit. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she’d have fallen by now. Her head rolled to the side and he took the opportunity to nip at her throat.

  “Damn,” someone said from behind Fox. “You found someone to play with already?”

  Abruptly, Fox pulled away, leaving her on the edge. Fuck, she could kill their interloper. Her body was too needy to worry about pretenses. Fox seemed to sense that and subtly straightened her skirt for her. He turned toward the man but continued to use his body to protect her from onlookers.

  “This is Addison,” he said, evenly. “The girl I was telling you about.”

  Her pussy was bitching about the interruption, but this guy didn’t look like he planned on leaving anytime soon. She grumbled. All she needed was two seconds alone with her “lipstick tube” to fix her predicament and she’d be much more able to concentrate on the conversation. But if this was one of Fox’s business associates, she didn’t want to give the impression she was just one of Fox’s conquests.

  “Ohhh.” Trying to sidestep Fox, the man looked her over then smiled. “The one from the basement?”

  He’d told him about that?

  “Yes,” Fox answered, leveling his friend with a glare. “Addison, this is my cousin Luke.”

  Luke smiled at her, flashing his dimples. Unlike Fox, he seemed charming. They didn’t look much alike ot
her than their builds. Luke had a dark Mohawk, shorter than Fox’s, and a clean-shaven face. They both had strong bone structure, but Fox’s features were sharper. Fox looked meaner, by far, even though they were equally tattooed.

  “Come sit with us, Addison,” Luke said. “I hear we have a lot in common.” His voice was teasing and made her wonder just what, exactly, Fox had told them.

  Fox groaned loudly.

  She stepped around him and followed Luke to one of the patio couches, smirking back at Fox, just to annoy him. He’d made her needy, so he deserved it. With shaky legs, she did her best to walk with confidence, even though her mind kept playing through a scenario where Fox bent her over the half wall they’d just left and shoved his cock into her. Was he the kind of guy who liked to bite during sex? Fuck, she hoped so.

  When they reached a set of furniture arranged in a circle, Fox made sure to steer her to sit on the couch next to him. Luke took the love seat, and another man strolled up behind Luke then sat in the extra chair.

  “Great,” Fox rumbled. “The whole gang is here.”

  Ignoring him, Luke gestured toward the newcomer. “This is Atlas.”

  She gave him a shaky smile and he nodded.

  “Atlas and Fox are brothers,” Luke explained.

  That she could see. They had matching blondish-red hair, though Atlas’s was a little lighter and styled in a neat buzz cut. Atlas was also so heavily muscled she was pretty sure the man should have a warning label. The three were dressed business casual, with their button-down shirtsleeves rolled up. Luke had tattoos creeping up his neck and down his arms, like Fox. But Atlas’s skin was strangely bare—at least as far as she could tell. His demeanor was the opposite of Luke’s. Instead of a wide smile and expressive eyes, he was stoic and closed off.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” Luke asked her.

  She looked at Fox but he averted his gaze. “Sure.” She gave Luke a flirty smile. “At least someone likes me.”

  “He just wants to get in your pants,” Fox said.

  That spot had already been taken. A few minutes ago. By his fingers. She squirmed a little, her clit still throbbing. Could she lure him back to her apartment to fuck him? Something told her he wasn’t the type who could be bossed around.