Bossy Burglar: A Hero Club Novel

by A. J. Norris

  BOSSY

  BURGLAR

  A.J. NORRIS

  Copyright © 2021 by A.J. Norris and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: C.K. Brooke

  Cover by: Delicious Nights Design

  Bossy Burglar is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Cocky Bastard. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 1

  Melanie

  Six minutes.

  A lot could happen in six minutes. For instance, I could’ve chucked a brick through a window in this wealthy neighborhood, tripping an alarm, and it might have taken six minutes for the police to arrive. Six whole minutes before sirens wailed and the cruisers screamed toward the small mansion.

  There was no “could’ve,” though.

  I did this.

  Last night.

  Tonight, I stood outside the gate of the ten-million-dollar estate two doors down taking deep breaths in preparation for what I was about to do. However, any attempt to calm myself failed. My heart continued racing. I curled my sweaty fist around the wad of bills in my pocket–my portion of the tip money from my last day working at Starbucks, given to the baristas as a thank-you from the hot Aussie, Chance Bateman. The man was beautiful, and I came to think of him as—

  Shit!

  A Range Rover drove past, and I ducked under the trees next to the gate. I waited until the car was gone before making my move.

  Assuming this McMansion had an alarm system, I planned on being in and out of the place in under six minutes—plenty of time to steal a diamond necklace, proving my worth to the boss. This was my only chance to get on the Hermosa Beach Crime Syndicate’s top crew, the ones responsible for my brother’s murder. But a lot could go wrong in six minutes.

  All right, you can do this. I flattened myself to the cement driveway and inched under the ornate metal gate. The coolness from the hard ground seeped through my clothes.

  Standing up, I adjusted my black biker’s face shield and baseball cap and moved silently toward the side of the large house. With the layout of the house I’d been given, there was a window that led into a first-floor laundry room. The owner of the estate was out of town for the weekend and would return tomorrow, so tonight was my only chance. Besides, I was already going to hell anyway.

  I shook from the inside out, even though I had committed several B&Es for the Syndicate before now. Cupping my eyes to the window, I couldn’t see much of anything beyond the glass except darkness.

  The window was one of those double paned crank jobs that only opened about six inches. Fortunately, I brought my window cracking supplies because there really wasn’t any other viable way past this obstacle. I took the plastic bag of white spark plug ceramic fragments from my inside coat pocket. I set my Apple Watch to count down from five minutes, so I had a one-minute buffer.

  Stepping back, I threw a piece of the ceramic at the window. The first pane of glass cracked on impact. I took my coat off, wrapped it around my already gloved hand, and cleared the pieces of glass from the frame. I repeated the same steps on the inside window.

  Laying my leather coat on the sill, I climbed into the house, using the water spigot to boost myself up. Halfway over, I slipped and landed in a heap on the tile floor. My elbow banged into the stainless-steel washer. Ouch! A boom reverberated around the small room. I winced and held my breath, listening for an alarm.

  Although the place was likely wired like the Federal Reserve, evidently the alarm was silent. Sweat prickled my skin. Recovering from my tumble, I clicked on my pocket flashlight, ran for the hallway, and made a left toward the kitchen with a set of backstairs. I tripped over the threshold to the kitchen.

  “Oh, shit!”

  The flashlight flew from my hands when they shot out in front of me. I hit the smooth countertop with my waist, which kept me mostly upright. My boots squeaked across the tile, leaving a long black mark on the light-colored tile. I scrambled for my flashlight. Thank god it still worked.

  I glanced at my watch. Two minutes and fifty-two seconds remained.

  Dammit!

  Less than three minutes until I needed to be out. I swallowed my jagged breaths and tore up the stairs, two at a time. On the second floor, I raced to the master suite, ready to fling the door open. However, the door stood ajar and creaked when I pushed it farther open. “God,” I said under my breath. Was it possible for me or this damned house to make any more noise?

  I scanned the bedroom. The furniture cast shadows, as if ghosts lurked in every corner of the room. You’re here alone, I told myself. But then I thought I heard a quiet thud and an intake of breath. Or was that me? I certainly gasped a few times from bounding up the stairs.

  The closet was on my left. Palming my flashlight, I went inside a walk-in the size of my apartment. The light glinted off the many formal dresses covered in shiny beads and sequins. Although this job was a set-up, getting caught by the law meant the Syndicate washed their hands of you. The danger was real and so was the jail time.

  I’d been told the woman of the house had a ton of jewelry, some of it costume, some real, and some priceless. The necklace I had to steal held personal value to the owner. At least that was what I had been told.

  Nestled between a set of shelves with sweaters and a rack of clothes looking like they came from a golf store was a built-in jewelry dresser. The top was made of glass. Shining the flashlight on it revealed a dark red velvet lining. Gaudy rings and bracelets littered the tray.

  I tugged on the drawer below and found it locked. Yeah, as if I’d be that lucky. Outing my switchblade, I pried at the drawer. A thin gap opened, and I shoved the blade between the top tray and drawer and wrenched up. The lock gave.

  I searched each drawer, except the necklace wasn’t in any of them. “Where are you?” After a quick time-check, which indicated I had less than forty-five seconds, I spun looking for...anything that might have jewelry stashed in it.

  About twenty or so shoeboxes were stacked on a shelf in the back of the closet. Striding over, I ripped the boxes down and started goin
g through them. A sound behind me caught my attention. “Uh!” I stiffened and turned.

  “Looking for this?”

  I knew that voice. Directing the beam of my flashlight at the door, I caught sight of Lincoln grinning like the smug bastard I’d grown to love hating. And he had some nerve being smoldering hot, too. Like what the hell was wrong with him? The nerve. My eyes narrowed at him leaning against the door jambs, dangling the diamond necklace from his middle finger. Something wasn’t quite right with the diamonds, though. Lackluster. And misshapen.

  “Sonofabitch.” Every cell in my body vibrated and my eye twitched. Why the hell was he here? The answer was obvious; he wanted on the crew, too. I sprang to my feet and lunged for him. “Give me that!” Lincoln jumped out of the way and I bit the carpet, losing my flashlight, baseball cap and...my dignity. I rolled over onto my back. Moaning, I held a hand over my stomach.

  Shining a light in my face, he stood over me and snort-laughed. “That looked like it hurt.”

  “Fuck. You. Get that light out of my face.”

  He clicked the flashlight off. “See ya.” The bastard stalked away.

  Oh, hell no.

  I chased after him, tackling him to the ground. I wasn’t strong enough under normal circumstances to take him down, but the sneak attack buckled him at the knees. We both went down hard with me on his back.

  Recovering quickly, he wrenched himself over, pinning me to the Karastan rug. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He wrestled with my legs, trying to break free. I merely held on tighter.

  “Get off!” he roared.

  “Give it to me!”

  “Oh, okay,” he snarled. “Where would you like it?”

  “In my hand.”

  “That can be arranged, sweetheart.” The man shoved the necklace down his pants. No doubt into his underwear. This only strengthened my resolve. I was getting that necklace.

  “Not until I get—”

  A faint siren wailed outside, growing louder by the second. “You hear that? We gotta go. Now.”

  I dove my hand into his pants, tunneling underneath the elastic waistband of his underwear. I gripped the first thing I felt.

  He gasped.

  I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut. Oh, man, despite the anger I was rocking, I couldn’t keep heat from pooling between my legs, which pissed me off even more.

  “Not the necklace.” He gripped my wrist, so I clamped down harder on what was in my hand.

  His sudden intake of air suggested I’d won this round.

  “Take your hand off my dick.”

  “Give me the necklace, then.”

  “No, get the fuck off me!”

  “I’m not on you.”

  “Let go and I’ll—”

  With the shift of his body, the jewels of the bedazzled choker brushed against the side of my hand. I released Captain Winky and snatched the piece of jewelry. And with a quick yank, the prize was mine. Lincoln rolled off me, cupping himself. “Ow, fuck.”

  The alarm, which had been silent at first, now screeched loudly to the point I wanted to cover my ears. The shrill sound drowned out the police sirens. I stepped out into the hallway and peered over the balcony. Blue and red lights shone through the front windows of the house. Snapping my head back, I swore under my breath.

  “Can’t go that way,” Lincoln said from the bedroom doorway. “Come on.” He waved me over.

  Was he kidding me, like I was going to trust him? No, thanks. “I’ll find my own way out.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Nora.”

  I started to ask who ‘Nora’ was, then stopped myself. I still hadn’t gotten used to my alias. The name made me feel like he was talking to someone else. Maybe he was. Beginning a life of crime hadn’t been on my to-do list for this year. Glancing at the grand foyer below, I realized I’d blown my easy exit strategy. Although the cops hadn’t breached the door yet, backlit silhouettes moved in front of the sidelights, so it was only a matter of time. I definitely couldn’t unlock the door and waltz through it like I owned the place. Or could I? No. Stupid, Melanie.

  BOOM! The house shook. I ducked my head. What the... BOOM! I glanced at Lincoln.

  “Battering ram.”

  BOOM!

  “We have cops coming out our asses. Let’s go.” He tossed his hands in the air.

  Why was he trying to help me? What did he have planned? When I didn’t respond, Lincoln let out an exasperated noise and rushed past me, heading for the backstairs. The you’re-a-dumbass was implied. He shook his head.

  BOOM!

  That one got me moving. As if the last three house rattlers weren’t enough of a clue the situation had gone balls up. I took off after him right as the police busted through the front door.

  “Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you?” Lincoln said as we shot down the narrow stairs to the kitchen. I had to use the handrailing and the wall to keep from slipping. My heart thudded inside my chest. This was like some freaky dream where I couldn’t go fast enough. The more steps I took, the more seemed to develop in from of me.

  At the bottom of the stairs, he rounded the corner and disappeared from my sight. A chorus of voices called out in rounds, “Clear.”

  Lincoln stood at the back door off the kitchen unlocking the deadbolt. He didn’t look back when he jerked the door open and went outside into the darkness. The door handle struck the tall cabinet next to the door, taking out a chunk of wood.

  I burst into the backyard. Even though I was mere seconds behind Lincoln, I couldn’t see him. I rounded the lagoon style pool. “Lincoln,” I whispered, although I didn’t know why I bothered. He left me inside like he didn’t care if I was behind him or not. The thing about not being a career criminal was that I cared about people that didn’t give a shit about me. Or maybe this was just me. Nora the criminal or plain ole Melanie, the college dropout; the name and title made no difference.

  Bushes and trees threw shadows all over the place. If he was in the backyard, there was no telling where he might be.

  I broke into a jog. My toe met an immoveable object and I tripped. Fortunately, my hands softened the blow. I bit my tongue, though. “Ow, mother...fucker.” Tears stung my eyes.

  Large hands grabbed me around the waist, lifting me off the ground. “Shhh,” Lincoln whispered in my ear. He held my back to his front and moved us behind a small wooden shed of some sort. The roof was cockeyed, and the shape of the door wasn’t a rectangle. It looked as if it belonged in Wonderland or was part of a putt-putt hole decoration.

  “Where are we?” I said quietly. Wait a minute, we were standing in the middle of a mini-golf course.

  “Shut your mouth,” he breathed.

  Shut yours.

  The whir of a helicopter passed overhead. A spotlight shone down through the trees. The leaf canopy shielded us from view. Why had I thought I could pull this job off in six minutes? The mission had gone from bad to impossible. My mind conjured up the Mission Impossible theme: Dunt-dunt da da dunt-dunt...

  A deep, authoritative voice barked a command. Clearly, one cop to another or many. Lincoln turned me around so I was facing him. “When I tell you to run, you run, hear me?”

  I nodded and hoped he had an actual plan because I sure the hell didn’t.

  The spotlight flooded past us.

  “Run.”

  We both took off at the same time. His strides ate up more ground than mine, which meant I soon lagged behind. He dropped beneath some bushes, barely dodging the light sweep. Ten feet from his hiding spot, the spotlight stopped, forcing me to wait until the area went dark before joining him. I snagged my palm on a pricker from one of the shrubs. A thread of pain licked across my scraped skin. I shook my hand.

  The noise from the helicopter dimmed. “Are they giving up?” I asked.

  I couldn’t see him well in the dark, but I had the impression he glowered at me like I was an idiot for even thinking it. “God, you’re naïve.”

  “I’m not naïve,” I muttered und
er my breath.

  “Keep thinking that. It’s been such a benefit so far.”

  “You’re the one—”

  Lincoln covered my mouth with his hand. “Run,” he said, releasing my mouth. He bolted for the fence line. I gave chase again, following him to the corner of the privacy fence. We pushed our way through a thicket of small trees that gave us plenty of coverage.

  The helicopter made its way back and hovered over the backyard. Cops shouted from a distance, something about there being too many trees.

  My new BFF in crime shoved at a fence panel that bowed out on the side away from the post, giving us room to escape the confines of the backyard.

  Staying low and in the shadows along the fence, he led me through a parking lot. He jerked me away from the fence and around to the side of a building. Shoving my back against the wall into a dark corner, he ordered me not to move. The awning overhead shielded us from the helicopter’s search light.

  “I gotta tell you, I’m not liking this manhandling at all.”

  “Quiet.”

  I crossed my arms. “How long do we have to wait here?”

  “Didn’t I just get done asking you to be quiet?”

  “Uh, there was no asking involved.”

  “Do I have to gag you?” he whisper-shouted. He took out a cell phone and appeared like he was texting someone.

  I would have answered him, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction because he obvi liked being right. And who the hell did he text? Why did I care? God, it seemed as if a lifetime passed since we wrestled for the necklace. Had that even happened? I felt inside my coat pocket for the necklace. He received another text and while he was distracted, I fastened the choker around my neck.

  “The helo’s gone,” he said after a while.

  Helo? My dad had been the only other person I’d heard use that term for a helicopter. “Navy,” I said softly to myself.

  “What’s that?”

  “You said ‘helo.’ My dad used to say that, and he was in the Navy.”

  All I could see was the dark shape of him as he stepped in front of me. “Figures.”

  “What figures?” I sensed him crowding me, but with it being so dark, I wasn’t sure how close he was until he spoke again.