Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline 1)

“Not when they’re twenty-two.”

“I was drunk and you were the one who dared me to do it.” The three of them had gone there for Atlas’s nineteenth birthday, since it was the legal drinking age there, and had what was now a very blurry weekend.

Luke’s white teeth flashed and he started the rolling laugh that made Fox smile even though he really didn’t want to. Bastard.

“I still say you should have let Atlas piss on your tongue.”

Fox snorted, but inwardly thanked God for his cousin and brother. When his life went to shit, they were the only ones who kept him grounded. “Oh, will you fuck off so I can make an ass of myself in peace?”

Luke shook his head in exasperation. “Do what you want. You always do.” He walked back into the garage, and Fox stared at his phone.

He had been hoping to hear from Addison tonight of all nights, before he had to put all of his attention into the job. At least she’d been texting him excuses about why she couldn’t see him for the last few days. It was, sadly, better than nothing.

Something had happened the day they’d moved her grandmother. Several times now he’d replayed the whole day in his mind, going over conversations, body language, nonverbals. Had he laid it on too thick with her dad? He’d been trying to sound committed to her, but no one had mentioned anything crazy like weddings or babies. It had been a nice, normal meeting. They’d gotten her grandmother’s belongings moved. She’d sneaked a kiss from him a few times when no one was looking, but he’d behaved, hard as that had been.

Nothing. He couldn’t come up with a single reason why she was suddenly blowing him off unless it had been the money. He really hadn’t wanted to think that about her.

He dialed her number and the phone rang several times before her voice mail picked up.

Frustrated, he hung up without leaving a message then stuffed his phone in his pocket.

If it really had just been the money, why tell him she wanted to work off the debt rather than just accepting his initial offer to give her the money, no strings attached? To save face?

She didn’t seem to be the kind of girl that liked stringing guys along, but he was starting to feel like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. The thought of never seeing her again twisted like a knife in his gut. It was totally possible he’d misread things with her, or had wanted too much, too fast. But she was so fucking perfect it had been hard to hold himself back.

After all the time they’d spent together working on things and hanging out and talking, why had she agreed to be exclusive? Why had she introduced him to her family and called him her boyfriend?

It had been stupid, but when the word “boyfriend” had left her mouth he’d felt like a high school kid again—like the short guy that people made fun of—but this time the girl he’d fallen in love with loved him too. That whole day had been surreal. He’d let himself think that maybe they had a future together. Even if she decided to focus on her engineering rather than steal cars, they could have made a go of it. But too much time had passed now, and her excuses just kept getting more ridiculous.

When she’d finally texted him back, she’d said she’d had the flu. She’d refused to have him bring her anything. Then she’d had homework to catch up on, then she’d had bad cramps from her period and didn’t want company. Then her cousin was visiting from out of town. Last night she’d promised to help her mother reorganize her scrapbooking supplies.

Why didn’t she just get it over with and tell him to go away? His emotions swung back and forth between angry and hurt, and he didn’t know what to do with either one. He didn’t have the patience to work in the garage, so he’d been driving around in complete silence for days. Every fucking song was somehow about her.

Whatever. He was done chasing after her. The problem was he couldn’t hang out with the guys because they inevitably brought her up, and he couldn’t sit in his room, because he’d taken her on every available surface.

Lying alone in bed was the worst. As he tried to fall asleep, intrusive, tormenting thoughts would find him. The conversations they’d had about their worldviews and their work would echo like she was in the room with him. He’d catch flashes of their moments together, even when he was trying to focus on anything else. The flirty, sassy looks she threw him, the scent of her hair, the look on her face when she knelt before him, all bravado forgotten when she put herself at his mercy. But the worst—the very worst—was the memory of the way she felt tucked into the curve of his body as she slept. Inadvertently, she’d made him feel so protective of her, and not knowing what was wrong or if she was okay was making him crazy.

God, he was so stupidly in love with this girl. That she’d finally come to her senses about him made him regret warning her.

Last night he’d washed his sheets twice to get rid of her scent, and after he’d remade the bed he’d lain awake, seriously pissed at himself for erasing her scent from his world.

Instead, he’d wandered the house like a ghost, wishing he had an appetite or felt like drinking beer or watching television—anything to distract himself from reading and rereading their texts.

Enough feeling sorry for himself. It was time to work.

He tossed his toolbox into the Cadillac where Luke and Atlas waited. It was fast and would get him out of a tough predicament if he needed to. Not to mention he’d have to jet across the city several times over the course of the next five hours or so. He wished he could say the roads would be empty this time of night, but this was Vegas.

“Ready?” he asked his cousin and brother.

Atlas nodded.

“I have to pee!” Luke said, snickering.

“Are we there yet?” Atlas added.

“Shut up and get in the car, asshats.” Fox slid into the driver’s seat and they took off toward their first mark in a fancy housing development not far north. He was playing chauffeur tonight, dropping each of them when they found their target then picking them back up after delivery. Atlas had hacked into the DMV to find every car in the city on the list. There were at least three or four of each model. Luckily, the details—like color—didn’t matter. If they couldn’t find the first on the list, they’d just move to the next until they did.

They fell into silence as Fox pulled onto the highway. Before a big job, they often retreated into their minds—like a quiet meditation. They’d done this too many times to let nerves get the best of them, but they still needed to stay focused.