Thick As Thieves: An Enemies-To-Lovers Romance (Paths To Love Book 5)

by Grahame Claire

  “I’m sure.” I pointed at the plate. “Should I wrap this up?”

  “No. I’m taking it right now.”

  “Let me get you some silverware. Think she likes tea, lemonade, or water?”

  She looked uncertain again. “Why don’t we try lemonade? Everyone likes a nice cold glass of that, right?” There was still an innocence about this woman underneath her wariness. She was a good person. It didn’t take much to see that, even to someone who wasn’t.

  “Right,” I agreed. I hated lemonade, and normally, I would have said as much. Yet here I was trying not to hurt her feelings. “I’m Drew, by the way.” I scooped ice into a glass and filled it with the pale yellow liquid.

  “Trish.” Her eyes turned to the floor as soon as she said her name.

  I wanted to tell her she could look at me, that I wasn’t going to hurt her, but instead, I held out the glass. “Want help carrying this?”

  “No, I have it,” she insisted, her strength and shyness coming and going in waves.

  “At least let me get the door.”

  She nodded and smiled. “Nice to meet you,” she said, much to my surprise.

  “Likewise.”

  “Why are you here? Most volunteers who know Vivian don’t come every day,” she observed.

  “Would you believe I wanted to do my part to help out?” I asked. I didn’t want to bullshit her. She shook her head, her eyes lighter than they had been. “Didn’t think so.” I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”

  “That’s okay. Everything happens for a reason.”

  I’d call bullshit on that one, but if she needed to believe it, I wasn’t going to dissuade her. “So I hear.”

  She walked away, and Miss Nece elbowed me in the ribs. “Don’t even think about it,” she growled, catching me off guard.

  I hadn’t been looking at Trish in the way she’d interpreted. I wanted to know more about her and hated whatever had brought her here even though I didn’t know what it was.

  “I’m a man, Miss Nece. It’s all we think about,” I tossed back with a wink even though I inwardly cringed at having to put on this happy-go-lucky front here all the time.

  She muttered under her breath, but I wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or a curse.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sonya

  Sam pawed at my knee.

  Damn. I was a terrible mother. Wait. Not mother. Dog sitter? That wasn’t right either.

  Sam pawed at me again.

  “You need to go outside?”

  He danced around as though I’d said the magic words. What was I thinking? Picking up a stray dog when it was dangerous for me to take him for a walk? One look at his sweet face and the danger didn’t matter. Besides, being cooped up in my room was making me insane. I was free to come and go as I pleased as far as the rules went, but I couldn’t risk traipsing around the city with Tamas no doubt looking for me. It was only a matter of time before he turned over this stone. I had to be gone by then. Hiding under the covers wasn’t getting that done.

  And fuck Drew Harris Carter. Not only had his wallet been a waste of time moneywise, but I was craving a cigarette like I hadn’t in two years. Holding my breath when he’d blown that little slice of euphoria in my face yesterday hadn’t worked. I longed for that recessed filter between my lips and yearned to feel the first hit of nicotine crash my system. I groaned out loud, letting my head fall back against the wall behind my bed where I was sitting. There had to be a gym in this bitch, and I bet it would be nice.

  Shit.

  “Let me go find some shoes.”

  Sam wagged his tail.

  I could make the pajamas I’d been given suffice as workout clothes, but the Converse weren’t cut out for the type of run I was going on. I slipped Drew’s wallet into the pocket of the flannel pants. It wasn’t ideal for running, but I couldn’t risk leaving it unattended in my room. If I got caught with it on me, I could say I’d just found it.

  Barefoot, I tapped on the door of the room next to me, which was slightly ajar. Sam poked his head inside but stayed glued to me. A girl who looked to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, was sitting at a desk with her head bent over a smattering of different colored powders.

  “Hey,” I said to get her attention. “I’m your neighbor, Sonya.”

  She turned around and brushed the hair out of her face. When she did, a rose-colored streak was left across her cheek. She zeroed in on my bruise but said nothing about it. “Hey. I’m Baker.”

  “Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to see if you had any tennis shoes I could borrow?”

  “Sure, but there’s a whole room downstairs with all kinds of things. You can help yourself. Want me to show you where it is?” she offered, already closing the lid on one of her powder containers.

  “No. You’re busy. I’ll find it. Thanks for letting me know,” I said, backing out of the room.

  “Sure thing. See you around.”

  I should have put on the shoes I did have for my quest, but I was in a hurry, needing some kind of outlet before I went on a different kind of search. One that involved a vice and a flame.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Sam right behind me, I made it to the bottom floor, peering in every room until I found what I was looking for. My neighbor hadn’t been joking. There were clothes for any occasion lining the walls of the large space. Racks of shoes were arranged by size, and I found myself salivating over a pair of Jimmy Choos. What were these doing at a shelter? And who the hell had donated Jimmy Choos? I couldn’t resist, slipping the stilettos on my bare feet and letting out a little eek of joy.

  I had some, but that didn’t matter. Stepping into the shoes was always an ahh moment. Lifting my foot and tilting my head, I examined the black beauties. There had to be a mirror. I glanced around and saw a full-length looking glass. I pranced right over to it.

  Shoes and clothes were easy to get someone to buy for me, but the thrill of nice things—no matter how I got them—hadn’t become old even after all this time. Men wanted the woman on their arm to be as beautiful as the cuff links or suit they wore. To most of them, I’d been an ornament. Something to dress up and make sparkle. I liked being beautiful.

  But it was the next steps. Could I push to the level beyond the thousand-dollar earrings from Saks to the eighty thousand-dollar ones from Cartier? While the items were important, it was also about the time investment. How long did it take for me to merely gaze at something or mention it in passing before it ended up gift wrapped and delivered? I never asked for anything. I wasn’t a beggar. All of it was given freely.

  Every single time I was showered with gifts, the thrill was indescribable. You can be anyone you want to be. My mother had told me that for as long as I could remember. After things went to hell, I embraced those words. Lived by them each and every day.

  When I had a new mark, I became someone else. New name. New number. New life. I harnessed the power of being whoever I chose to be. There was no rush like it. Yet somehow, here, with Drew and the other people I’d met, I was the real me. I didn’t understand why, but I was simply doing what felt natural.

  And these shoes felt like we were meant to be.

  I was so busy admiring my feet, I barely noticed the figure that moved behind me.

  “You won’t have to sneak those out of here.”

  I spun around, coming face to face with the very reason I was here. Sam let out a shrill bark.

  “And you shouldn’t sneak up on people,” I fired back, suddenly feeling ridiculous with my flannel pajama pants pulled up above my knees so I could admire the Jimmy Choos.

  “What about pickpocketing? Is that acceptable behavior?”

  I lifted my chin indignantly. He wouldn’t shame me for something I was entirely not sorry for. Except he didn’t seem all that mad. In fact, there was a definite tease in his voice.

  “Everyone knows that’s wrong,” I said, wrinkling my nose as if he was a
fool for even asking.

  He stepped closer, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I held my ground, though my heart sped up exponentially. When was the last time that had happened? Even as I fled the scene of the crime after a punch in the face, my heart hadn’t beat much harder than what a brisk walk might cause.

  “So you intentionally do what you aren’t supposed to?” The words were enticing, spoken with a hint of awe and a lot of interest.

  “Don’t confuse the two of us,” I returned haughtily, straightening. I would admit nothing.

  “You’ve skipped all your meals today. That little tigress in the alley wasn’t afraid, so why are you hiding?” This SOB specialized in taunting.

  “I should ask you the same.”

  “Avoidance. . . always a sign one is on to something,” he replied smoothly. “So I’ll ask again. Why are you hiding?”

  “You go first.”

  “Sugar, I don’t hide from anything.” Drew was so smug that I actually believed him.

  “I’m battered. What do you think I’m hiding from?” The half-truth felt wrong, considering how the women I’d met here so far had accepted me. Not only accepted me, but even though I hadn’t talked to many of the girls, hadn’t learned about their story—why they were here with nowhere else to go—I was still humbled. I shook my head. Why is he here again? Drew moved to the racks, scanning them until he found what he wanted.

  “Put this on,” he commanded, shoving a coat at me.

  “Why? It’s warm in here.” I didn’t move, and he held it against me, our eyes at war with one another, battling for who would give in first.

  “I didn’t take you for one of those, the kind who needs help putting on a coat.” He rolled his eyes and held the jacket open for me.

  “Not until you tell me where we’re going.” I crossed my arms, and he groaned, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

  “Outside. Now put it on.”

  “Bossy much?” I found myself shrugging into the fleece-lined jacket, the soft warmth enveloping me.

  He grabbed my hand and quickly led me out to the back alley where we’d met yesterday. The blast of cold hit me in the face, the temperature much cooler than it had been the day before. I shivered, grateful for the jacket, though my feet were freezing and already hurting from the stilettos.

  “My feet are cold,” I complained, just for the sake of it.

  “I figured if I tried to take those shoes off, you might get violent,” he said with a smirk.

  He had my back against the brick wall in seconds, pinning me to it, his face an inch from mine. Damn, he smelled good. Had I noticed that yesterday? Now wasn’t the time to let a man like him get under my skin. It was supposed to be the other way around.

  “You bring me out here to attempt to seduce me?” I asked, lifting my leg and rubbing my calf against the back of his jeans-clad thigh. His eyes sparked with desire, though he didn’t move any closer. He had a hell of an erection, and that meant I had all the power. Power I had no problem using to my advantage.

  Drew caught my leg and eased it back to the ground. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sonya?”

  He looked triumphant at knowing my name, but the odds had just stacked even more in my favor. The man had taken enough interest in me to find out who I was, had sought me out this afternoon, and very obviously wanted me. My plans were quickly falling into place.

  “No.”

  He laughed sardonically, backing away to dig in his pocket. Immediately, I missed his heat, lifting away from the wall to follow his warmth. Minus a point for me, but I could get that under control. It would be a bonus to be attracted to a mark. I ignored the warning flag my mind threw up.

  Drew put a cigarette between his lips, goading me as he deliberately returned the pack to his pocket and drew out a silver lighter. He lit the end, pulling a drag into his lungs, then tilted his head back to release a stream of smoke. My mouth watered as I zeroed in on the temptation. He didn’t ask if I wanted it, just placed it between my parted lips. My automatic response was to close them around the filter and suck.

  I actually moaned when the nicotine hit my system. Drew made no move to retrieve his cigarette, and I let it hang between my lips for a moment before taking another long inhale. Just this one. It was a promise to myself I was damn sure I wouldn’t keep, especially around Drew. He was pure temptation, and he had my number. Another point to him.

  He took the cigarette, and I whimpered with unabashed envy when he put it between his lips. Drew held in the smoke, leaned in, and pressed his mouth to mine, blowing it into my mouth. It wasn’t the shared nicotine that had my system lit up. The shock of his rough lips had my eyes wide open, staring into his. I’d kissed loads of wealthy men. Another thing they had in common besides their money was soft lips. But his almost felt weathered, like what I envisioned a real, tough, rough-and-tumble man’s would be. Something inside me melted, calling to the woman who lived for pushing the envelope and skirting the edge of danger.

  The cigarette was no longer of interest to me. More of that rough mouth was. For a second, I forgot I was playing a game as I moved my lips against his, inordinate pride filling me at the heat in his gaze. Just before I made the mistake of tasting him with my tongue, I eased the cigarette from between his fingers, peeled my lips from his, and put the filter firmly in my mouth.

  I grinned, sphinx-like, while my heart thudded furiously in my chest at his momentary anger.

  “My little tigress,” Drew said, amused, tugging on one of my errant curls. “Is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?”

  My expression turned serious as my eyes went hard. “Nothing.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Drew

  Where had she hidden my wallet in those pajamas?

  I still hadn’t figured that out or when she’d returned it to my back pocket without my knowing. After a quick inspection, I found she hadn’t taken a thing. A thief with a conscience? Or was she just letting me know she could play with me as she pleased? For once, I didn’t find it so unappealing to be at someone else’s mercy and was curious to see what she would do next. Oh, I still didn’t like her. Not at all.

  She already had me by the balls, that briefest touch of her lips against mine making me determined to have more. And make no mistake, I would have her. She could play all the games she wanted, but I would know what it was like to fuck her senseless. Have her at my mercy.

  I didn’t need to get involved in the complications Sonya had following her around. She brought it on her all by herself. Hell, I could sense her craving for it, and that was just another thing we had in common. We would go out in a blaze of glory, both of us too addicted to mayhem to save one another from it.

  She already had me hacking into the Paths of Purpose system to find out more about her and nearly getting busted too. I’d covered by pretending I was collecting the trash from the administrative office, and once I was in the clear, I kept asking myself what in the hell I was doing. This place was keeping me out of jail. If I got kicked out, and all the shit I’d done caught up to me, I’d be there for a very long time.

  I was impressed with their cyber security. One really had to know what they were doing to get past it. Unfortunately, one look at Sonya Hughes’s information, and I knew it was false. Even the story she’d given about her boyfriend getting drunk and violent and threatening her life sounded fake. I wasn’t even sure Sonya was her real name, but given enough time and digging, I could figure it out.

  * * *

  My brother hadn’t said a word on the ride home, silently fuming as he navigated the streets of New York. That was fine by me. I didn’t feel like talking, and I didn’t care to hear what was eating at him, considering it more than likely had something to do with me.

  After a short drive, we pulled up to a building that wasn’t the apartment. It was so close to Paths of Purpose we could’ve walked. “Where are we?” I asked, glancing ac
ross the dark car at Easton, whose stony face didn’t give a damn thing away. Everything about him was tight—his eyes, mouth, shoulders, arms. Wherever we were, I wasn’t going to like it.

  “You’ll see,” he said curtly.

  We exited the SUV and entered the nondescript brick building. It was several stories high in a neighborhood lined with trees and BMWs. In the lobby, there was no desk, just dark chocolate walls framing the elevator shaft in the center. Easton pressed the call button, and the doors immediately opened. We rode up to the third floor. The walls were the same chocolate color, and there was one glass-paneled door directly across from the elevator.

  My scalp started to tingle, and there was a sinking feeling in my gut. “Easton?”

  He shook his head, his eyes clouded. I hadn’t seen my brother cry since our dog died when I was twelve. This was bad.

  Easton opened the door to a waiting room of sorts. It reminded me of a doctor’s office but without the stark white walls and the magazines that usually littered the end tables. It was empty, but then again, it was after seven in the evening. Not the typical hours for a doctor, if that was where we were. Or maybe it was an attorney’s office.

  Fuck.

  I followed him down a narrow hallway to the door at the end, which was slightly ajar. He rapped lightly with his knuckles before pushing it open. A dim light from a tray ceiling illuminated a figure lying in a hospital bed. I turned my head away, unable to look, knowing it was my mother.

  It took a full minute for air to fill my chest and me to find the strength to move closer. I sensed other people in the room but could only see the woman who had given me life slowly having hers sucked away. Once beside the bed, I tentatively reached for her hand. I didn’t want to hurt her. There were so many wires and tubes sticking out of her that my stomach turned over.