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

by Grahame Claire

  “Watch and learn.”

  “What about this guy?” I asked with a mocking smile.

  She pointed at the sign in the window. Dogs Welcome Inside. Leave it to the tigress to find a dog friendly establishment in New York City.

  I saluted and let Sam sniff around for a spot to go to the bathroom.

  I had hoped taking her to see my mother would result in answers to the questions I had, but Mama hadn’t asked anything parents normally did. Something important had come of taking Sonya to meet my mother. She’d forgiven me. I didn’t deserve it and couldn’t really accept it. I was unable to understand how she could after everything I’d done.

  I’d kept the one thing away from her she’d always wanted: a grandson. I’d only just come to terms with the fact that I was a father—no, a sperm donor—myself. It still seemed impossible. But the tests hadn’t lied.

  If I had believed Holly when she’d come to me all those years ago, would I be a different person today? That question kept me up at night. She probably would have been a good wife, but that kid was better off without my influence. He seemed like a pretty amazing child. That was because Holly had kept him as far away from me as possible. Every time I saw him, I was torn between running and getting to know him. For every bad influence I might have had on him, my mother would have taught him twice as many good things. No one had ever said doing the right thing was easy, not that I had much experience with that. In this case, keeping my distance from that little boy was my great contribution to his life.

  I’d taken longer to go inside than I’d meant it to, and I was distracted when I entered the bar. One wall was exposed brick. A pool table filled one corner, the balls in a perfect triangle on the felt. “My Type” by Saint Motel wafted down from the speakers, and I smirked, pretty sure the song was written about me.

  There were few people inside, and they were mostly men. Nobody looked up even though I had a dog on a leash. It only took a second to find Sonya. She sat too close for my liking to a man near the center of the bar. Their bodies were angled toward one another. A smooth shoulder peeked out from the wide neck of her sweater, tempting him the way it had tempted me all day. Her expression was serious, as if she was confiding all her most intimate secrets to him.

  I fought the strong urge to insert myself between them and tell him he didn’t know jack shit about her. The truth was, I didn’t either, and that was beginning to bother me. I especially didn’t like the thought of her sharing secrets with anyone other than me.

  Sam tugged me to the bar, ignoring her instructions to go to a table, and I brushed right up against her back, like I was marking my territory or some bullshit like that. She didn’t react, her focus completely on the asshole on her other side, who had obviously bought her a drink.

  “My dog means everything to me,” I heard her say with despair. “Henry needs surgery. He swallowed a corncob from the neighbor’s trash when the bag burst open.”

  It took everything I had not to snort. The little liar. Except, if I hadn’t known better, I’d probably have believed her. She wasn’t laying it on too thick, and the emotion in her voice was genuine. Discreetly, I slid a bar napkin to her when I heard her sniffle. Discreetly, she elbowed me in the side.

  Sam sat at her feet and put his head on her lap as though he belonged to her. Because he did. How was she going to get out of this one?

  “Hi there,” she said as if she’d only just met Sam. She petted his head but returned her focus to the man.

  “I lost my dog a few years back,” the poor sap said, taking a swallow of his beer. “We were really close too.” He stared down into his glass, and Sonya patted his shoulder. “It’s a cliché, but he was my best friend.”

  I didn’t hear what she said next because the bartender came and took my drink order. Johnny Walker Blue straight up. Sonya stiffened, and I tuned back in. “I should be at the vet,” Sonya said firmly, sounding defeated, still scratching behind Sam’s ears absently.

  “Can’t any of your other family help you out?”

  I noticed the Patek Philippe watch on the guy’s wrist. He was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, fairly unassuming, but the timepiece told me he had money or was in debt up to his eyeballs.

  Sonya’s chin dropped to her chest, and her shoulders heaved. “My parents are dead. I don’t have any siblings. He’s all I have left in this world, and I’ve let him down.”

  When the man’s hand went to her thigh in sympathy, I almost hauled him out of his seat and broke that hand on the bar. Instead, I hissed through my teeth, and she elbowed me again. Sam let out a slight growl but stopped when she kept stroking him.

  She sniffed a few more times and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’re here to drink, not hear about my problems.” Sonya stood and gave him a sad smile. “Thanks for listening.”

  He caught her by the wrist. “I don’t mind,” he said kindly, and I felt sort of sorry for him.

  She shook her head again, hair flying around her face. “No. Really. I shouldn’t be here anyway. But I just felt so helpless at home.”

  “Please. Sit back down.” He patted the seat, and she tilted her head as if deliberating.

  Finally she sat down, and he gave her a sympathetic smile. “We all have ways of coping when we feel hopeless.” He spun his glass in his hands. “My wife left me last week.”

  Sonya’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry about your dog, but it’s kind of nice forgetting about what’s happening with me.”

  They chatted easily for quite some time, so long that Sam curled up on the wood floor, and I almost believed this shit story about her sick dog as I listened in. Fortunately, the guy got a phone call and immediately signaled the bartender to close his tab.

  “I have to go,” he told Sonya apologetically as he laid a fifty-dollar bill on the bar.

  “Thanks again for listening. I hope things work out for you.”

  He folded his wallet and had it halfway in his back pocket when he pulled it back out. He shelled out ten one-hundred-dollar bills. “This should help with the operation.”

  He held it out to her, and she shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t,” she said, her voice wobbly. “You don’t even know my name.”

  “But I’ve been where you are. I’m Dave, by the way.”

  “Margaret,” she returned, still not touching the money.

  He nudged her with it. “If you don’t take it, I’ll feel bad.”

  “Thank you,” she said, leaping up and throwing her arms around him. He embraced her back, caught off balance by the display. I glared at both of them. Sam jumped up, poised to defend her too.

  “What if I make you promise to call me once Henry is all better?” the guy asked as if he wasn’t giving her the cash out of the goodness of his heart.

  “I can do that.”

  She smiled as he handed her a business card and the cash. Then she kissed his cheek, and I nearly slugged him for having my tigress’s lips on him.

  He left, and there was no trace of the sad woman who was losing her dog anymore. Sonya gave me a triumphant look, and I began a slow clap, to which she bowed.

  “Well played, Margaret,” I said. She was a hustler, and a damn good one.

  “Thank you, sugar.” It was obvious how pleased she was with herself. “And you’re welcome. I heard you don’t drink the house whiskey.”

  “And you?” I nodded at her nearly empty glass.

  She summoned the bartender and ordered us another round of Johnny Walker Blue, hers on the rocks. “I’m frightened having something in common with you.” She clinked my glass with what could be the world’s most insulting toast. I snagged her by the waist and bit her ear. “Still in the same boat, baby.”

  I steered us to a large booth in back away from the windows. She slid in, and I caged her as best I could. I needed to be touching her.

  “Old Sam here almost blew it for you, but I think you missed your calling,” I said, ti
pping my drink to the dog lying under the table at our feet.

  “Did I?” she asked as if my opinion didn’t matter, batting her long lashes at me mockingly.

  “I’m impressed. A thousand bucks for a half hour’s work. That’s over four million a year, assuming you only do a forty-hour work week.” I slid a hand up her thigh. She caught it and dug in with sharp nails. I grinned at her. “I’m not sure you could make that much as an actress.”

  “I never wanted to be one anyway, and stop knocking my skills. Thanks to me, you got yourself a drink.”

  “I’m not knocking what you did. Seriously, I’m a little in awe of you. You had me believing poor little Henry wasn’t going to make it.”

  Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You’re not going to scold me for practically stealing that man’s money?”

  “The way I see it, he handed the cash over all on his own. His choice.” I patted her down as best I could. “Unless you stole his wallet.”

  Sonya smacked me in the arm. “Of course I didn’t. What kind of bitch do you take me for?” I shrugged. “I got his watch.” She proudly held up the Patek Philippe.

  I laughed so hard and so long even Sam sat up to see what was going on. When was the last time I’d truly laughed?

  “And we’re still at the scene of the crime? Ballsy, Tigress. Very ballsy.”

  “He’d never suspect me.” The woman was certain of her skills. “Guarantee he’ll think he lost it on the way home . . . if he’s even figured out it’s gone yet.”

  “I stand corrected.” I inspected the watch. “That’s about eighteen grand in thirty minutes.” I put my hand over my heart and batted my lashes at her this time. “I think I’m in love.”

  “Shut up,” she shot back, but she was smiling.

  “Did you want me to scold you, Tigress?”

  She shifted, making me think she’d like it. “If anyone is doing the disciplining, it’s going to be me.”

  “If you do it naked, I have no objections. Start my punishment now. Kiss me.”

  “That’s not a punishment.”

  “Depends on what side of the fence you’re on,” I reasoned, leaning closer.

  I wasted no time sealing my lips to hers. Her tongue struck first, diving in for a duel with mine. Like a teenage boy, I put her hand on my hard dick. She, in turn, put mine between her legs.

  “Good thing you taste like my favorite liquor,” she grumbled against my mouth.

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  I had to know if she was wet for me. I lowered the zipper of her tight jeans, shoved two fingers inside her pants, and felt around. My tigress was soaked.

  Pleased, I withdrew but didn’t bother to zip her back up. A gentleman would have, but I was no gentleman.

  “If you think I’m fucking you in this bar—”

  “You will if I say you are,” I interrupted, grabbing the back of her neck.

  “Tyrant.” She sank her teeth into my lower lip. “We’re not doing it again today.”

  “I never envisioned you to be a prude,” I tossed back.

  “I am not a prude,” she protested, her nose wrinkling.

  “Once a day is most definitely prudish.” She slapped my stomach. “If you keep this up, I’ll be the one with the black eye.”

  I saw the pale pink cotton of her panties through the open fly of her jeans. Sonya hadn’t even considered raising the zipper. She squinted at me. I dove back in for another kiss, unable to resist that plump mouth. She struggled against my hold, but her hands were clamped firmly on my thighs, squeezing as if it were too much. I felt the same; I almost never kissed a woman willingly. With Sonya, I couldn’t seem to stop.

  She ripped her mouth off mine. “You can’t just kiss me whenever you want either,” she huffed. She straddled my lap, and my hands filled with her luscious ass. She ground her crotch against mine and tongued the seam between my lips. I sucked on it, and she shuddered against me. Everything disappeared: the bar, my mother’s illness, the financial stress, my family problems, and my general shitty outlook of the world. All that mattered was the woman on my lap. The con artist, who could very well be playing me. I didn’t care. She could do whatever she wanted to me as long as it included more of this.

  She slid off my lap and back onto the seat, her lips lingering like she couldn’t get enough.

  “You can kiss me whenever you want,” I murmured, a warning signal going off in my brain that I’d never given that kind of permission to a woman before. Not even Erin, who I’d loved more than myself. Nothing about whatever this was with Sonya was normal, though, so why bother trying to corral it into something I was comfortable with when that hadn’t made me happy? She was the first genuine thing in my life in a long time. The fact I was an arrogant, egotistical bastard wasn’t a deterrent. And I have no idea why that is. All I knew was I wanted more. I wanted to feel like me again. I wanted her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sonya

  “I still can’t believe how easy you made that look,” Drew marveled as we sipped our drinks. We’d been quiet for a few minutes, and I was grateful. The intensity was getting a bit much for me. I didn’t usually feel anything when a man touched me, but when Drew did, feeling was all I was capable of.

  I looked under the table to find Sam sound asleep. Drew was right. He had nearly blown my story, but I didn’t come close to caring. Sometime in the past few days, I’d come to think of him as mine.

  Drew moved to more comfortable territory for me. I slung back more whiskey, giving him an I know, right? look. “You’d be amazed,” I said, setting my tumbler on the table. “No matter how wary people are, they still take others at face value.”

  “I wouldn’t have bought that shit.” Drew’s chest puffed out. “But you were convincing.”

  “People like us don’t fall for just anything someone is selling.” Manipulative liars tended to see everyone else as one too.

  Drew grinned. “Are you insinuating we’re alike?”

  I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. “I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

  “I took it as one.” He rested his forearm on the table and angled toward me. “Is this your occupation, or are you gainfully employed elsewhere?”

  “You mean somewhere reputable?” I couldn’t be all that prickly about it, because he’d acknowledged what I did was work. Today had looked easy, but sometimes, it was hard getting people to trust you to the point where they gave you shelter, money, clothes, and valuables. “This is what I do.” A voice in my head screamed I was revealing too much. No one got to know my secrets. It was too risky and could be used against me, but I ignored it as I was prone to do around him.

  “I assume it wasn’t always your ambition to . . . whatever all this entails.” He waved absently.

  “I kind of fell into it. I liked the risk, and the payoff isn’t bad either.”

  “Fell into it?”

  I gripped my tumbler tighter. This wasn’t a story I’d ever told, and one I wasn’t 100 percent sure I even wanted to share. Especially not to someone I didn’t trust. My mouth opened anyway.

  “My father is a contractor. For as long as I can remember, I went to the job sites with him as his helper. His little shadow.” I waited for Drew to make a snide comment or shoot me a look of condescension. It didn’t come. “I’d do anything for my dad. He supported me in everything. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve never made it as far as I did in skiing.” I didn’t think about the past often, yet it lurked on the fringes, and when it did make an appearance, I felt a strange tingly feeling in my chest.

  “Exactly how far did you make it with skiing?” Drew asked.

  “To the Olympic trials. I made the team, took a nasty tumble in practice, and blew out a knee. The end.” I shrugged as if it made no difference, but I’d felt devastated. So many years of practice, of dedication, of pain . . . thrown away in a moment. I’d lived in a lonely tomb of misery for years. No one had understood what it had been like. But
as I looked at Drew, I saw darkness flash in his eyes. Drew understood? How was that possible?

  “Have you been back on the slopes since?” No apology. No look of pity. No hollow reassurance.

  “After I’d healed enough to try.” I quirked my lips. “It’s hard to put into words, but the second my skis hit the snow, I knew it was over. I’d never be as good as I had been. It just didn’t feel the same.”

  “Makes perfect sense.” I stared at him while he absently sipped his whiskey. “What about your dad? Where does he fit into the equation of Sonya the Hustler?”

  I opened my mouth to get defensive and then clamped it shut. Why bother denying the truth? “He cut corners with his business. He’d order too much material for a job and instead of returning the excess, he’d keep it and tell his customers he’d used it on their job and bill them for it.” I swirled my drink. “I didn’t know this until I was in high school. Dad thought one day I’d want the business he’d built, so he showed me some of his methods.”

  Drew’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing. There was no reason to get into this. I was where I was. I liked it.

  “Keep going.”

  I sighed. “There’s really no—”

  “I want to hear this, Tigress.”

  I tolerated baby and sweetheart from other men as a means to an end, otherwise hating the endearments. But something about Drew’s nickname softened me. I liked it more than I cared to admit. Liked the little buzz of electricity it gave me.

  Caving, I continued. “Winter break during my senior year at college, he needed my help on a ‘huge’ project. He didn’t have to ask twice. I was all over it, already planning on working for him while I was home anyway. Dad got caught cutting corners on the biggest job he’d ever had.”

  Drew’s face clouded. “And what did he ask you to do to fix it?”

  “I think you’ve got a pretty good idea. The man had no idea I was my father’s daughter, and I seduced him.” I propped my cheek on my palm. “It’s really too bad I had to cut it short. He was a generous man. Had incredible taste—”