by Nina Croft
He nodded. He actually felt like a bit of an idiot and was sure she was smiling beneath the mask.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside, into what was clearly a reception area with only one door. He hung back as she approached the door. She took a photograph, then pulled a can of some sort of spray from the bag and sprayed the keypad, took another photograph. After studying the pad for a moment, she punched in a number. He waited for the alarm, but nothing happened. “Keypad needs cleaning, recommend replacing with something else—maybe biometric.”
She shifted her attention to the door, studied the lock. Got a bundle out of her bag and opened it up. A second later, she was picking the lock, and she knew exactly what she was doing. He felt like he was watching an artist at work. It took maybe five minutes before she straightened and turned the handle, tossing him another big grin as the door opened. “External lock needs upgrading.”
Once inside, she used her spray on the internal keypad, punched in a number, and stood waiting, counting off on her watch. When nothing happened, she gave him the thumbs-up.
“That’s just about it,” she said. “Too easy.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Not really. I get to devise a new system, and hopefully Carl can sell it to them. Just one more thing. My favorite.”
The apartment was richly furnished, even to his untutored eyes. Paintings hung on the walls, which were papered in what looked like some sort of material. Regan waved a hand at one of the paintings as they passed. “That’s an original Monet, worth hundreds of thousands. You’d think they would be a little more careful.”
“Why are they doing this?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Probably the insurance company asked for a report.”
After trying a couple of doors, peering into the rooms, she found the one she wanted. He followed her into a huge study, a big mahogany desk in the center, with leather couches around the edges. The curtains were open, spilling in dim light from the city outside. He crossed over and looked out down to the street below while Regan stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly. Finally, she settled on a direction, crossed to a painting on the wall, and carefully lifted it down, revealing the safe behind.
“You might want to sit down,” she said. “I’m not sure how long this will take.” She gestured to the sofa, and he sank down onto the leather where he could watch her work.
After taking some photos, she pulled something that looked like a stethoscope from her bag of tricks. Putting it to her ears, she placed the other end to the safe. She was silent for what seemed like an age, then she swore softly, dragging off the mask, before replacing her stethoscope.
If she wasn’t going to look like an idiot, then neither was he, and he pulled his own mask off.
She didn’t appear to be doing anything except concentrating hard, a little frown between her brows. After about thirty minutes, her face broke into a big grin. She turned the wheel, and the safe clicked open.
“Voilà.”
Reaching inside, she pulled out a brown envelope, read the writing on the front, and stuffed it in the bag. Then she took a few more pictures of the open safe before putting everything away. He tossed her his mask and gloves.
She sighed dramatically as she replaced the picture. “It almost seems a pity not to…only kidding. That’s it. We’re done.”
They were silent in the elevator and didn’t speak again until they were out on the street. She nodded to a bar across the road. “Let’s go get a drink. This stuff makes me thirsty.”
Chapter Eleven
The bar was almost empty. Regan ordered a beer and a whiskey chaser. He raised his eyebrows but ordered a beer for himself and watched as she downed the shot in one gulp. Her eyes glittered with suppressed excitement.
“You loved that, didn’t you?” he asked.
Placing her glass on the table, she grinned. “It’s not as good as the real thing, but yeah.”
By the “real” thing, he presumed she meant actually robbing someone. This whole night was turning into one big headache. He decided not to pursue the subject. “You’re good. Very good.”
“I know. I’ve been doing this stuff since I was a little girl. I love it.”
Christ, how to bring up your children the Malloy way. “If you’re so good, how come you got caught?”
Her face closed up, and her eyes narrowed. “Just bad luck.”
“So is this what you plan to do when you open your business?”
She took a sip of her beer. “It’s what I hope to do. At least, partly. The other part is designing the new systems.”
“Systems that people like you can’t crack.”
She frowned for a second, then nodded. “Exactly.”
“Well, good luck. You certainly have the expertise.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment. “I’ve hit one problem. They turned me down for a license.”
That didn’t surprise him. She had a record, was still on probation, and came from a family of known criminals. Of course they turned her down. “I’m sorry.”
She traced a pattern on the table with her fingertip. “You know, if you vouched for me, they might change their mind.”
He’d been half expecting it; all the same, a ripple of anger ran through him. They were supposed to be keeping their lives separate, and this was definitely crossing the line. He knew his reaction was partly because he was already on edge from her earlier show of expertise. It reminded him of just who and what she was, and she’d looked so goddamn proud of herself. Now this. She had no right to put him in this position. Just like she’d had no right to ask him to help her friend earlier.
Did she know how much he was risking, just by seeing her? He’d wanted some sort of control over his life, and that seemed further away than ever.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
No, she fucking shouldn’t have. Maybe it was impossible to keep their lives separate. Had she been biding her time so he’d feel he had to go against his better judgment and help her? He hated the idea that she might have been manipulating him. What would she ask next? “I can’t vouch for you, Regan.”
“Look, just forget it.”
But he couldn’t. Something drove him on. “What the hell do you think would happen if I endorsed your license and there were break-ins directly related to jobs that you’d done?”
She pushed her chair back. “You think I’d do that?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just watched you crack a supposedly uncrackable safe. How the hell do I know what you’ll do? You said it yourself—you love it.”
She bit her lip and swallowed. For a second, hurt showed in her eyes, but then her expression became blank, and she gave him a bright smile. “You’re probably right. I’d hate for anything to tarnish your impeccable reputation.” She gulped the last of her beer, then set the glass down gently. “I think I’m going to take a rain check on the rest of the evening.”
“You’re not coming back to my place?”
“I’m tired, and I promised Carl this report straight away.” She stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Then she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you”—she shrugged—“whenever.” Then she turned and walked away.
Nate watched her go, a sinking feeling in his gut. He’d fucked up. But what the hell else could he have said?
She must have seen how impossible it was.
But perhaps he could have been a little more diplomatic.
He’d hurt her.
And he hadn’t even realized, until that moment, that he had the power to do that.
Shit, he’d messed up.
He fought the urge to call her back, to say he was sorry, to hug her. But he stayed where he was and ordered another beer to drown his sorrows. He’d make it up to her somehow.
…
Regan headed in the vague direction of home, not really taking much notice of where she was going.
Why had she asked him to help her?
She should have known how he would react. She’d known all along how he really felt about her, what he thought of her “questionable” morals. Just because he had an overwhelming urge to shag her, that didn’t wipe out the fact that he was the detective responsible for her time in prison. Oh, she didn’t blame him. Ultimately, there was no one responsible for what she’d done but herself. She’d never pretended to be innocent. Why should he believe she’d changed?
She was no angel. She’d done her first job with her dad and brothers when she was sixteen and still in school. Then she’d grown up. When she was eighteen, her second brother had spent some time in prison. It had brought her around in a sudden jolt, making her realize she didn’t want that. And she hadn’t done another job for more than three years. Until her scumbag ex-boyfriend had spun her a fairy tale that she should have known better than to believe. But maybe she’d wanted to believe. She’d told the truth to Nate; there was nothing quite like the high of doing a job.
Except making love with Nate.
Maybe he was right—she was a bad person. Maybe all her dreams would fall apart, and she’d end up having to turn to a life of crime or starve.
She sniffed. Was this the beginning of the end? Would he walk away? Write her off as a bad idea…better forgotten?
She wasn’t ready to say good-bye yet. She needed to build herself up to it. And she would.
It’s not real. It never was.
But please God, not just yet.
She should have kept her mouth shut.
…
Both Summer and Darcy were gone by the time Regan got up the following morning. She spent a couple of hours writing the report from the job the night before. Once she hit send, she picked at some lunch and tried to ignore the fact that she kept staring at her phone.
Maybe she’d never hear from him again. Would she let him go, or would she chase after him? That had never been part of the deal.
By late afternoon, she was driving herself mad. She’d gotten fed up with glaring at her phone, willing it to ring, so she switched it off. Then she changed into shorts and a tank top and headed down to the gym. There were a few guys around, a couple sparring in the ring, doing some sort of martial arts stuff, and two more using the punching bags. She walked over to an empty bag in the corner, put on her earphones, and started the workout Darcy had devised for her. Punching and kicking, repeating moves in a mindless dance that cleared her mind and made the sweat gleam on her body, her clothes stick to her skin. Only when her legs and arms felt like lead did she stop, resting her forehead against the warm leather. She breathed in deeply. When she straightened, it was to find Nate leaning against the wall watching her.
She blinked at him, unsure of what to say. He took a step toward her. “I came to apologize.”
Some of the tension that had been dogging her all day eased. She grabbed a small towel from the bench and wiped her face. “You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn’t have asked you. There’s no reason you should trust me.” Except that, by this point, he knew her better than almost anyone. She had opened up to him, told him her dreams…
He took another step closer. “It’s not a matter of trusting you. But I can’t get involved.”
She ignored the fact that he hadn’t actually said he trusted her—deep down she knew he didn’t and never would. But he’d made the first move—he’d come here and apologized. It was enough for her. It had to be. “I know that, and it was never part of our deal.” She smiled. “Friends?”
He nodded. “Friends.” His gaze dropped, and she followed his look. Her tank was drenched with sweat, her nipples poking through the thin material. She looked back up, catching the desire in his eyes, and it warmed her skin.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked.
“I couldn’t get hold of you. You weren’t answering your phone.”
“I turned it off.”
“And I tried the apartment, but there was no answer. I thought Darcy might know where you were.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, I was worried. You left so suddenly last night, and I was an insensitive prick and—”
“Hey, it doesn’t matter.” Though she didn’t deny it.
“I could have handled it better. Anyway, Darcy wasn’t there, and then I saw you through the window. Shit, you are hot.”
She grinned. “Yeah, if you like sweat.”
“Babe, I love sweat.” He reached out, but then glanced around as if just realizing they were in a public area. His hands dropped to his side. “Can we go to your place?” he asked, and she knew exactly what he had in mind. She’d never invited him in before—had wanted to avoid any awkward situations—but the apartment was empty right now, so why not?
She nodded. Grabbing her stuff, she led the way out the rear door and up the stairs. On the first landing, he grasped her from behind, turned her, pushed her up against the wall, and kissed her with an urgency she could sense in the tenseness of his hard body.
He raised his head. “I sat in that bar last night after you’d left, and I thought—I’ve fucked everything up. This was it. You wouldn’t want to see me again. Then all day, I’ve been working this stupid case, and Phil kept asking these stupid half-assed questions. If that asshole asks me one more time if I think he’s going to make DI, I swear…” He shook his head. “I nearly punched him. All I wanted was to get over here and…” He kissed her again, showing more clearly than words exactly what he wanted to do.
And she was in total agreement. Grabbing his hand, she dragged him the rest of the way.
It took ten seconds to get from opening the door to falling naked on the bed. And she forgot everything in the hard thrust of his body. There was an edge of desperation to his lovemaking, as though he, too, had contemplated the end. Only when he was deep inside her did he slow the pace, making love to her with an intensity that sucked her in, dragged her under, and wiped out the rest of the world.
She came so powerfully, the release both physical and emotional, that she blacked out for a minute. When she blinked open her eyes, she was sprawled over his body. Nate had one arm wrapped around her; the other was tracing circles on the skin of her back. It felt like coming home, where she was supposed to be, and that was a scary thought that she would analyze at a later date. Much later. For now, she was just going to revel in the relaxation of tension. She thought she’d lost him, and he was back.
Never again.
In the future, she would stick to the rules and keep their lives separate. And if she did that, then there was no reason she couldn’t keep this one little part of him.
“You back with us?” he murmured.
“Yeah.” She exhaled, pushing herself up a little so she could peer into his face. His lips curled in a lazy smile that sent tingles through her body to her very core. “That was…intense.”
“That’s one word for it. I may never move again. Just stay here until they find our bodies.”
“Can you stay?”
“I can. I visited with Dad before I came here. But it’s Friday. Isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be?”
For a moment, her mind went blank.
Oh my God, it’s Friday.
She glanced at the clock. It was after eight. She was supposed to be at her mom and dad’s by seven. She was so fucked. Where the hell was her phone? She jumped from the bed, naked, and headed for the door. She opened it, slammed it closed again, and turned, pressing her back against the wood. Her mind refused to acknowledge what she had just seen. Sadly, that state of numbness did not last long.
“Fuck.”
Nate still lay in bed, a sheet over his hips, one arm behind his head. “Something wrong?”
She cleared her throat. “The room—in there—it’s full of people.”
“How full?” He sounded amused. Hah. That wouldn’t last long.
She closed her eyes and pictured the sitting room. “Darcy, Summer, my brother Tom, and I pre
sume his new girlfriend.” What the holy hell was Tom doing here? He’d probably been sent by her mother when she hadn’t turned up. And she’d opened the door. And she’d been naked.
Oh. My. God. No.
If she’d ever had a beam-me-up-Scotty moment, this was it.
This was so, so wrong.
She glared at Nate. How the hell had the two of them not noticed that many people arriving? He was a goddamn detective. Wasn’t he supposed to notice things? Could it be that they’d been a little distracted? God, had she made any noises? Had Nate? Honestly, her mind was a blank, but she did have a habit of screaming.
Well, the damage was done. Now she just had to find the best way out.
Her choices came down to: hiding under the bed or escaping out of the window.
Before she could make up her mind, someone rapped hard on the door. “Regan, come out, come out, we know you’re in there.”
Darcy. Bugger.
She was naked, and she stank of sweat and sex and she did not have an en suite bathroom, which meant she was going to have to go out there again. She found her shorts on the floor by the door, her tank top thrown over the dressing table. She dragged them on, then hunted down some clean clothes and underwear, bundled them up and turned back to the bed.
“Stay here and stay quiet. You can make your escape after we’ve gone.”
“Are you ashamed of me, Regan?”
She’d been in the process of heading for the door, but now she turned slowly. “Are you crazy? It’s got nothing to do with shame. You do not want to get involved with my family. Believe me. My father would kill you. Then me.”
“You’re a grown woman. You can see who you like.”
She huffed. Now was not the time to get into the rights and wrongs of the situation. But clearly Nate had no concept of how a family worked. Which wasn’t really surprising when there had been only him and his dad. “I’m not saying it’s right, it’s just the way things are.”