Caught for Christmas (Stripped 3.50)

Panic flares, because he can’t know what I’m going to do. Can he? There’s no way he can know. He only means pushing him away. That’s all. “I’m not doing anything. You’re the one who can’t stop being so damn…” So damn sweet. So damn sexy. God, I can’t stand him. “So damn good all the time.”

His lids lower. “Is that how you see me?”

“That’s what you are. A Boy Scout.”

His smile comes slow and almost lazy. “And you want to see how bad I can be?”

A shiver runs through my body. The truth is that I like him this way, honorable and kind.

I just know he’s not made for me. He’d turn away from me if he knew all the things I’d done in my life, all the cons I’ve helped Maisie and Jeb pull off. It won’t matter anyways, because whether West remembers my nervousness or not, whether he suspects me or not, I’ll have to run. I can’t stick around and risk Ivan finding me out once I’ve stolen from him.

Which means tonight is my last night at the Grand.

The last time I’ll see West.

I let something drop—the pretense, the act. When I lean forward, it’s just me. Bianca. No transaction, no trade. Just a gentle kiss of my lips to his, fleeting warmth, a promise unfulfilled.

“No,” I whisper against his lips. “Don’t change. I like who you are.”

Then I turn and walk away, leaving him in the dimly lit hallway, the swing of my hips a silent goodbye.

Chapter Five

It may seem weird that someone who had committed a felony by the time I turned six would like to knit. The truth is that I learned to pick locks using knitting needles—the circular ones are perfect for small pins and little hands. Plus, throw in some yarn and the whole thing looks innocent, even if your bag gets searched. Of course since then I’ve moved on to more elaborate picks and hooks, professional tools of the underground trade. But I always keep needles, and a skein of yarn, in my bag for luck.

I tighten my hold on the fraying leather straps, trying to get into the right headspace.

Except I can’t get into the headspace where I’m cold and calculating.

All I can think about is West.

The Grand looms ahead, almost glowing against the pitch dark sky. It looks like a fortress, impenetrable. When I started working here a year ago, security was had been about big muscles, shiny guns, and a bad reputation. Very few people would have dared to steal from Ivan’s pet business, and anyone too high to know better would learn their lesson quickly once his men found them.

Then someone threatened Candy, Ivan’s favorite girl.

Now security is a lot tighter, with cameras covering every square inch and laser sensors on every door and window. But I’m constantly casing whatever place I’m in, always monitoring the entry points and exits. I find weak spots in their security system.

Old habits and all that.

Which is why I know exactly how to break into the Grand.

“Bee,” comes a whisper from the alley. I meet Maisie in the shadows, where she slips me a folded piece of paper. “The code to the alarm.”

Suspicion rises up in me. “Do I even want to know how you got this?”

“Of course not,” she says as if she doesn’t care. Because she doesn’t. Whatever illegal or unethical thing she had to do doesn’t matter. Whoever got hurt doesn’t matter.

Trade up. All that matte

rs is that she got what she wanted.

Right now I can’t even blame her. Some very scary men have Jeb. They won’t be treating him well. And if we don’t get them their money, they won’t ever let him go.

The paper is cool between my thumb and forefinger. “This means you can come in with me.”

She shakes her head, a flash of white-blonde hair in the dark. “I’ll stand guard. That was always the plan.”

The plan had been for her to cut the alarm. I’d be ready to go inside the second the alarm went dead. And she would stand guard, because it didn’t make sense for her to catch up. I’m the safe cracker in the family. Maisie has the smile, and Jeb has the charm. And me? I’ve had a good ear for clicks ever since I was a little girl.