Code Name: Heist Page 12

  My jaw drops—although admittedly, I’m also slightly turned on. Still, I act affronted. “You think I want to have sex with you now?”

  “Yup,” he drawls. “And I wouldn’t be averse to you fighting me a little.”

  “Bloody hell,” I mutter, turning my face away, but only so he can’t see the tiny smile I’m fighting off.

  ♦

  “I think you should apologize to me,” Saint grunts. Actually, he punctuates each word in a growling way, timing it to his thrusts inside of me.

  I. Think. You. Should. Apologize. To. Me.

  With every word, he slams into me from behind. I’m powerless to do anything but take it.

  Of course, I hadn’t said no to returning to his hotel room with him.

  There was a lot of pushing and shoving as we kissed and cursed each other. Clothes had been ripped. Torn. Shed completely.

  Eventually, I’d ended up on my stomach in the middle of the bed with my hands behind my back, pinned in place by Saint’s tight grip. He’d managed to lift my ass into the air, then drive in.

  It’s like old times. We’re pissed at each other, we get no satisfaction from our words, so we fight it out physically. I lose because he’s stronger than me.

  I’m now the submissive, and he’s marking his territory.

  Saint’s a feminist at heart, and he wants me to make my own decisions. But in this bedroom, he has to save a little face and I don’t mind giving him this.

  Besides, I’ve already come twice, and he’ll draw another one out of me before he’s done.

  ♦

  “Are you done being mad?” Saint asks. He’s flat on his back with me sprawled on top of him, my head on his chest. His hand is on my lower back, gently stroking my skin.

  It’s a stupid question. I’m so replete and mellow right now the room could catch on fire and I wouldn’t be mad.

  As is typical of this sexy man with the magical fingers, tongue, and cock, he thoroughly destroyed me with sex and now he wants me to admit I’m not annoyed anymore.

  “Promise not to try to chase me away?” I ask.

  “Nope,” he replies, and I give him a hard nudge in the ribs with my knuckles. I melt a little when he says, “Never going to stop caring about you, Sin.”

  I don’t respond. Letting the words sink into me, I choose to give them a bit of weight. While I get he’s not ready to figure out what we’re going to be to each other when all this is done, I have to accept he does care. The unknown is how much. Apparently, I’m going to have to wait for that answer.

  I don’t want him to, though. I can’t imagine how he spent those years in prison believing the worst about me. Never knowing that what I did, I did out of love. I don’t want Saint to ever have those doubts again.

  “Just so you know,” I say softly, raising my head to meet his eyes. Truth is always most evident there. “If you ask me to be a part of your life when this is over, the answer is ‘yes’.”

  Saint stares at me, but he can’t hide what I see reflecting from his eyes. He likes what I said, even if he won’t say it.

  Instead, he brings a hand up, pushes a bit of my wild mane back, and holds it there. “I’m going back to Pittsburgh tomorrow.”

  Abrupt change of subject, but I can follow. “Because of your missing friend?”

  He nods. We have nothing to do for almost a full week until we must attend Mercier’s party. William doesn’t have any jobs planned for us, so we’re free to do whatever we want. I was going to go back to London to hang with my dad and invite Saint to go with me, but Saint, at least, is off the table now.

  “Would you want to come with me?” he asks hesitantly.

  I can’t tell if the hesitation is because he doesn’t want me to or if he doesn’t want to hear if I say no.

  Regardless, still feeling all kinds of mellow, I let him off the hook easy. “I’d love to, but I think I want to spend some time with Dad.”

  There’s no relief in his gaze, so maybe he does want me to go. Regardless, our plans are set. Besides, maybe it will be good for us to spend a little bit of time apart. What is that old saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

  That aside, I do find it telling he wants to fly back to Pittsburgh. At least from what I know of the situation, with his friend either dead or taken hostage in Syria, it means there’s not much Saint can do to help at this point.

  Still, I feel for him. Saint is a loyal man who develops deep bonds when he cares for someone. I’ve been lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it before.

  “If Jameson is as good as you say they are,” I say confidently, snuggling against his chest. “They’ll get your friend back.”

  Saint squeezes me, a physical sign he appreciates my confidence. “I sure hope so.”

  “You like this job, don’t you?” I don’t raise my head, wanting to evaluate his response based on the emotion in his voice.

  “I do,” he says quietly. “I feel like I belong. More than anything, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m doing something my mother would have been proud of.”

  My eyes mist up at the pointed reminder that Saint’s mother, whom he adored above all else in this world, is no longer here. I wasn’t responsible for her death, but I was responsible for the way she left this world.

  Alone.

  “She’s watching you now,” I say. “And yes… she’d be proud of you.”

  Saint squeezes me again, but he doesn’t reply. I don’t say anything either, not knowing what more to offer to atone for what I’ve done.

  CHAPTER 19

  Saint

  It’s telling I’m glad to be back in Pittsburgh. Coming out of the Fort Pitt tunnel and seeing the rise of a beautiful mountain city seemed like a homecoming of sorts. While I was born and raised in Birmingham, Alabama, I haven’t identified it as my home in an exceptionally long time. Not since I first left.

  I’ve lived so many places the concept of roots had never meant much. That was also compounded by the fact I never thought about having a family, so having a solid home base meant nothing.

  Until I’d met Sin.

  Then I’d thought about it.

  A lot.

  It’s telling also how much I miss her. We’d parted ways in the airport—her headed to London and me to JFK—and it had seemed okay. But when I got on that plane and started moving farther away from her, it began to sink in how easily she’d inched her way back into my heart.

  She hadn’t been wrong to ask about my plans for the future, and she deserves to know what they are.

  But it’s also not wrong for me to take my time with this. While I might want her badly, we have so much to figure out. I went straight… working a legit job.

  Sin is a world-class thief.

  Those two lifestyles don’t mesh.

  And even if Sin wanted to go straight, would she want to do it in Pittsburgh? If not, would I be willing to give up this new job to be with her?

  There’s so much to figure out, but this is so not the time to do it. The weight of responsibility I’m feeling in not only bringing down Mercier to complete my job, but also to keep Sin safe at the same time has occupied all my brain capacity.

  My heart is going to have to take a backseat.

  I take an Uber to the Jameson building, brushing off the driver’s concern at letting me off in such a bad area of town. Our headquarters is rundown and dilapidated on the outside, but it’s a wonder on the inside.

  I pull up my security app, which rotates a new password to get in through the garage gate—a massive rolling steel structure that is impassable without the password. After I punch it into the key code at the box, I wait for the gate to rumble open enough for me to enter. I walk down the ramp leading deeper into the underground garage, past a handful of cars parked close to the entrance door, and flip down a cover over a metal box.

  Leaning forward, I put my face up to the screen. A blue laser light emits, scanning my retinas.

  A small chime emits
. Welcome, Saint Bellinger, pops up on screen.

  Fucking cool. One of the best things about Jameson is it has the best electronics and spy tech gadgets I’ve ever seen.

  I enter the unfinished and grungy first floor of the warehouse. After I get in the freight elevator, I let it carry me up to the second floor, which houses the Jameson offices as well as conference rooms. Third floor is all tech and weapons, including an indoor shooting range. Fourth floor is our living space. We have individual apartments, but we share a communal kitchen, theater room, gym, and outdoor rec area.

  Bebe is there to welcome me when the elevator comes to a stop. Since the retina scanner was her invention and she’s in charge of our security measures achieved through the technology, she would have been the first to see me enter the building.

  She’s a phenom around here. A woman who had spent time in prison for working for black-hat hackers. She’d stolen nuclear codes for them because they’d threatened to kill her son Aaron, but she’d allowed herself to be caught by the police so the codes would stay safe, even knowing she’d be sent to prison. At least Aaron had been safe that way, too. Kynan pulled some serious fucking magic to get her out of prison to come work for us. Frankly, we couldn’t operate without her.

  “Welcome home,” she says, holding out her fist.

  I bump it playfully. “Thanks. Kynan around?”

  “In his office,” she replies, and we both start walking that way. “Not sure how long you’re in for but you and I need to sit down and go over some new stuff I have for you.”

  “Awesome. And do we have anyone around here with explosives experience?”

  Bebe’s head snaps my way, her eyebrows going up. “Um… yeah, actually.”

  “Relax,” I assure her. “I need to talk through a few things. I’m thinking ahead on how my mission is going to finish up.”

  “With a bomb?” she asks curiously.

  “Maybe,” I say vaguely, but I give her a charming wink.

  When we reach Kynan’s office, Bebe prepares to peel off toward her work area, which is more than an office. It’s closer to a security center—filled with more computers than I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “I’ll have Cage get up with you,” Bebe says as she starts to go inside. “He did EOD work in the military.”

  “Sounds good,” I reply, stopping at Kynan’s door. When I give a sharp rap, I’m immediately invited in.

  In addition to Kynan, Cruce Britton is waiting on me. He’s become my best friend in the brief time I’ve worked here. Dozer Burney, a recent acquisition to our team, is also there. According to Kynan, he’s one of the smartest men on the planet, even though he’s built like a damn football player. Dozer was brought in to help with strategic planning.

  Cruce pops up from a small conference room table where everyone sits. He grabs me in a bear hug, giving me two hard slaps on the back. “Good to see you, man. Been worried.”

  “I’m good, promise,” I assure him, then turn to Dozer, who also rose from the table, and shake his hand.

  Finally, I move to Kynan, who gives me a handshake as well. He’d been expecting me. Even though he told me there was nothing I could do to help with the rescue efforts for Malik, he understood my need to be a part of it in the only way I could… showing up in person.

  A wall covered with a large map of the Middle East and a more detailed map of Syria catches my attention.

  “Anything yet?” I ask. It’s a vague question but they don’t need more. They know I will take any scrap of information or hope I can get.

  Kynan shakes his head, but Dozer moves over to the map. He proceeds to spend the next fifteen minutes walking me through where the rescue of the hostages was supposed to take place, where the actual ambush happened, where Sal and Jimmy’s bodies were found, along with the Aussie counterparts, and where Malik was last seen. Believe it or not, it helps to have these details. Makes me feel more like a part of the team than I have, having been so far removed by geography.

  “The State Department has become involved,” Kynan says, taking his seat again. He motions to the chair beside him, and I plop down. Dozer and Cruce join us as well. “Apparently having two brothers who are professional hockey players garners some pull with the government. They got their North Carolina senators involved, and now the U.S. has taken over the primary mission to find Malik.”

  “Do we even know if he’s alive or dead?” I ask. I have to know which way the general consensus is leaning, so I can stop putting so much effort into trying not to worry about it.

  “We don’t know,” Kynan admits. “It was a clusterfuck from the start. RPGs hit the convoy. All we can be sure of is that Malik’s body wasn’t there when they sent in a recovery team.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, then look around the table. “And what about Anna?”

  Thinking about Jimmy’s pregnant wife hurts my heart. She had looked like she was close to giving birth when the gang had met for drinks a few weeks ago.

  “Not good,” Cruce answers softly. “She’s a mess. The doctors put her on bed rest as a precaution because she’s so distraught.”

  “When’s her due date?” I ask.

  “Two weeks,” Kynan replies. “Jimmy and Sal’s bodies should be stateside by the end of the week. We’re waiting to see what the families want to do about funerals. I’m not sure Anna’s been able to focus on that, though.”

  It hits me that I’ll most likely not be able to attend either Jimmy or Sal’s funerals. I’m heading back to Paris in two days.

  “Speaking of which,” Kynan says as he rises. “I hate to kick you guys out, but I have a call with a contact of mine who has boots on the ground in Syria.”

  We take the hint, pushing out of our chairs. Cruce is nosy enough to ask, though. “You’re doing your own investigation into looking for Malik?”

  “Goddamn right I am,” Kynan growls. “Just because some state department bigwig says they’ve taken over and I can stay out of it doesn’t mean I will.”

  I grin, liking this. It’s how I realize I’m in the right place. This is like a family. We leave no one behind.

  As we’re walking out, I clap Cruce on the back. “You got a minute to talk?”

  “Sure,” he says, then motions to the elevator. “Let’s go to my place to crack a few beers.”

  “It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” I point out.

  “So?” he replies.

  And well, I can’t argue with that. I give a farewell fist bump to Dozer, positive I’ll see him again before I leave, then Cruce and I head up to the fourth floor.

  In his apartment, I look around at the small feminine touches Barrett has added over the last month since she moved in with him. Curtains on the windows and flowers on the small kitchen table.

  Speaking of which, I have to ask, “Where’s Barrett?”

  “Off in San Francisco, overseeing some testing on the fusion reactors they’re going to use to test her formula.”

  I shake my head, still astounded Cruce’s fiancée is a scientist who figured out how to create free energy. Well, the theory anyway. Testing still has to occur, of course.

  “How are things going in Paris?” Cruce asks as he pulls two bottles of beer out of the fridge.

  I take one, twist the cap off, and set it on the counter. Moving into his living room, I plop down on one end of his couch. “It’s a total mess.”

  I proceed to tell him everything, and I mean everything, starting with running into Sin that first day, which necessitated me explaining our history together.

  “Aha,” Cruce says as if a light bulb went off. “She’s the reason you were so averse to relationships when I tried to ask you for advice about Barrett.”

  “Well, wouldn’t you be if you had a woman you loved send you to prison?” I reply sarcastically.

  “But… she didn’t mean it,” Cruce says pointedly as he takes the spot on the other end of the couch.

  “Didn’t know that at the time,” I grumble.

&n
bsp; “But you do now,” he replies smoothly. “Does it mean all is forgiven?”

  I hesitate before answering, but not because I don’t want to. The beer tastes good, so I take a fortifying pull from the bottle to gather my thoughts. After swallowing, I say, “Yeah… that’s forgiven. Don’t like she did it, but I do understand.”

  I continue with the rest of the story, including Neal almost botching our nightclub heist and Mercier killing Neal without blinking an eye.

  Cruce leans forward, eyes now hard and worried. “Whoa… this shit is getting a little dicey, don’t you think?”

  I nod, my stomach roiling. “This Mercier is bad news. I don’t trust him at all. Whatever this big heist is going to be, I’m pretty confident he doesn’t intend to leave any witnesses behind once he gets his hands on the loot.”

  “What’s your play?” Cruce asks, because he knows to cut through all the bullshit. How do I go about preventing my own death here?

  “I’m still working that out in my head,” I say candidly. “But there is something I could use your help on. Does Kynan have you doing anything?”

  “Nope,” Cruce replies. “Just tell me what you need and I’m yours.”

  “I don’t think Kynan is going to like this,” I warn.

  “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Cruce replies with a smirk. “Besides… he’s not my boss.”

  “He kind of is,” I point out.

  “Not while I’m in between jobs,” he argues. “The way I see it, if I need to fly over to Paris to cover your ass, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  I sigh in relief knowing Cruce is on board. Because once this idea took root in my head, I couldn’t get rid of it. I think it’s the only way I can assure Sin’s safety.

  She’s going to hate me for it, but she’ll get over it. I can attest to that.

  CHAPTER 20

  Sin

  I unlock the door to my dad’s flat, pushing my way in while juggling the bags from my trip to the supermarket. It’s been a relaxing three days, more so than I can remember in some time, and that’s because I’ve resolved myself to quit worrying about things I cannot control.