Caught for Christmas (Stripped 3.50)

It’s a question of survival, and I can see in his eyes he understands that.

His voice is steady. “Put that down, Bianca. It isn’t safe.”

A harsh laugh escapes me. “Isn’t safe? You were pointing it at me earlier.”

“I didn’t point it at you, if you remember. And I have a lot more training with it than you do.”

“That only means you can shoot me better. This is supposed to be comforting how?”

“I’m not going to shoot you.”

“Yeah, because I have the gun.” I have nothing if not bravado.

“I was never going to shoot you.”

It’s too much. “Then why did you have a gun with you?”

“I didn’t know if you were going to come alone. Maybe you’d even send someone else. I had to be prepared for anything.”

“Boy Scout.” I mean it like an insult, but it just comes out sad.

“Bianca, listen to me. I asked around about you once I realized you were in trouble. I know something about the money—”

“Don’t talk to me about the money.”

He looks frustrated. “You don’t understand. There aren’t—”

“Just stop, okay? I’m not stealing from you. Not stealing from Ivan either.”

As much as I hate the idea of stealing from him, of West knowing the truth about me, I can’t forget that Jeb’s life is on the line here. Maisie’s too. Even mine. But I’d never be able to crack the safe and hold a gun on him at the same time. He’d turn the tables on me before then. The best I can hope for is to get away and figure something else to give the cartel.

His voice is low, and that damned earnestness is back on his handsome face. “You don’t need to steal from anyone. I can help you.”

“You don’t know a damn thing,” I whisper, but I’m already backing away, already working my way up the stairs. I don’t want to hear anything else he has to say, fake promises that can never come true. There’s no happy ending for someone like me. I’m a thief and a stripper. And once the mafia realizes I’m Jeb’s daughter, I’m as good as dead.

When I get to the top of the stairs, I toss the gun aside and run for it. It’s not my smoothest exit, but then everything about West twists me up.

I think he could have caught me. I know he could have.

But I make it out the front doors of the Grand, where the morning light has already split over downtown Tanglewod. Then I’m dashing down the street to where Maisie is waiting for me—waiting for me to hand over the money that would have kept us alive.

Chapter Twelve

Maisie knows I don’t have the money as soon as I show up. For one thing that much cash would be large and heavy, filling the expandable bag in my safecracking kit. And for another thing, I’ve been gone for hours. Breaking into a safe of that magnitude would take a while, but we’re talking thirty minutes—not two hours.

It makes me wonder what she thought was happening all this time. Did she worry about me?

I know exactly what she was worried about.

“What am I going to tell the cartel?” she asks, already anxious. “You can go in again tomorrow night.”

I shake my head, trying not to be disappointed. She didn’t even ask if I’m okay when she must know something happened down in that basement. Maybe it had always been coming to this. Maybe this is what she wanted from me all along.

“They would be expecting me,” I say, more tired than sad. “The code will be changed, the doors and locks reinforced. A trick like that only works once.”

Actually it hadn’t worked at all. West had seen me coming. “I have another idea.”

Her expression is wary. “A way to get the money?”