4. Nova
Chapter four
Nova
I stand and grab my bag from the back of my chair, pulling out a twenty for our drinks and sliding it under my glass.
When Cillian stands, he holds his hand out expectedly. “My wallet?”
“Oh, right.” I grab it and slide it into his waiting palm, then pull the wad of cash from my bag. Leaning under the bar, I begin counting the bills—keeping it hidden so no one can see what I’m doing unless they’re standing as close as Cillian.
When I try to hand him the cash I lifted from his wallet, he shakes his head. “Keep it. You earned it.”
Not needing to be told twice, I shrug and shove it back into my purse before grabbing his hand, leading him out of the bar.
We walk the few blocks to Bourbon Street. Though these aren’t my usual stomping grounds, I don’t want to have an unfair advantage over Cillian for what I have planned. It sounds like it’s been awhile since he lifted anything, so I figure the drunk tourists here will put us on even footing—even if we won’t make much.
Standing on the corner, I turn to him and take in the amused expression on his face.
I lean in and wrap my arms around his neck so it looks to anyone like we’re sharing a lover’s embrace. Without missing a beat, his arms wrap around my middle, and he pulls me firmly against his chest.
“I’m not sure what you're planning, but I’m not hating it,” he says, looking down at me with a smirk that would probably melt the panties off most girls.
I rise up on my toes so my mouth is against his ear. “You’re going to walk to the end of the block behind me, and I’m going to walk to the end of the other block. We’ll meet right over there.” I tip my head down the street from the corner we’re standing on. “Whoever has the most wallets wins.”
Pulling back, I look into his eyes and catch the gleam of excitement in them.
“What does the winner get?”
“Bragging rights.” My smile stretches from ear to ear as I wait for him to answer.
His answer comes in the soft brush of his lips against mine. “I’ll see you in a couple minutes,” he says, then pulls away.
“Don’t think that’s going to make me go all gooey and mess up my concentration.”
“I would never.” His hand covers his heart, and he looks at me with mock offense.
I roll my eyes. “See you at the finish line,” I say, heading down the street and grabbing an empty daiquiri glass from the patio of a bar I pass, playing the part of a drunk tourist.
When I get to the corner of my street, I stand for a couple moments and let the crowd file past me before making my way back toward where Cillian and I parted ways.
“Whoops, sorry about that,” I say, bumping into a middle-aged man walking in the opposite direction, sliding his wallet from his pocket before discreetly dropping it into my bag. Moving past him, I’m behind a group of college-aged girls, all with tall daiquiri glasses in their hands as they laugh and walk to their next destination. I smoothly slide a wallet out of the bag of the girl on the end, and she’s none the wiser. I repeat the “drunk bump” a few more times before reaching the corner and turning toward the end of the street I told Cillian to meet me on. Usually, I wouldn’t risk so many lifts in such a short amount of time, but it’s late, and most of the people out on Bourbon are a few steps past drunk or well on their way.
As I hurry down the quieter street, I spot Cillian walking in the same direction on the other side. He sees me and smiles, waiting for a car to pass before jogging across to meet me. He grabs my hand and we dip into one of the many bars lining the sidewalk. There’s a live band playing inside, but instead of jazz, it’s an indie rock band with more of a reggae flare.
I lead us to the back of the building where the restrooms are and nod toward the men’s while I head into the women’s. Thankfully, no one is in here, and I close a stall door behind me before grabbing the wallets from my bag. Five total, but only three hundred in cash. Damn. This is why I stay away from Bourbon. No one carries cash anymore. Blowing out an annoyed breath, I open the stall and dump the wallets in the trash under a thick layer of paper towels. Since I still have the others from earlier—thank God those had more cash—I dump those as well. Even if someone were to find them tonight, there’s no way to trace them back to me, and to be honest, there are probably stolen wallets scattered across several bars’ trash throughout New Orleans. It never ceases to amaze me that people aren’t more careful with their belongings in a city like this, but I suppose it would be a lot harder to make my living the way I do if they were.
Oh well. C’est la vie.
I open the door to find Cillian leaning against the wall in the hallway, waiting for me. I don’t know why, but that brings a smile to my face. Most guys would have gone to the bar or found a seat somewhere, but there he stands.
“You making sure I don’t skip out with my winnings?” I ask as the door closes behind me.
“Just making sure you're safe. I hear New Orleans can be dangerous. Never know what kind of criminals you could bump into.”
“Yet I’m still alive and well.” My arms stretch out on either side of me as I perform a little curtsy for him.
His eyes skim over my tight jeans, linger on my exposed midriff, and then rise to meet my gaze, sending a shiver down my spine. Of course I would be attracted to him. He’s like the ultimate bad boy or some shit.
“That you certainly are. Can I buy you a drink?” he asks with a tilt to his lips.
“God, no wonder you're bored and alone. Is that seriously how you try to pick up the ladies?”
Cillian barks out a laugh. “I’m not bored. Or alone at the moment.”
“Well, of course you aren't. I'm here with you, and I’m a barrel of fun.”
“You’re definitely something, Nova.”
“Why thank you,” I reply, flashing him a bright smile.
“I’m not sure that was a compliment.”
“ Pfft . It definitely is.” I tilt my head toward the bar. “Come on. I’ll let you buy me a drink.”
We head to the bar and have a seat in the high black vinyl chairs. Cillian orders us two Irish whiskeys—one on the rocks, the other with lemon-lime soda—and we toast before taking a hearty swig from our glasses.
“So, how did you do?” I ask, leaning toward him so he can hear me over the music.
“Six wallets,” he says with a prideful smile on his face.
“Look at you, big man. Maybe you still got it after all.”
“Unfortunately, it only got me about a hundred bucks and these.” He pulls out two free VIP passes to a strip club and a couple condoms.
“The pitfalls of Bourbon Street. That’s why I tend to stay away. Well, at least you have something to do tonight,” I say, smiling and nodding to the passes.
Cillian looks at me with amusement. “I’m happy with my current company.”
Those tingles I felt when I saw him waiting for me outside the bathroom are back in full force.
“What about you?” he asks.
“Five and a couple hundred.”
“Looks like you won.”
“The deal was who could lift the most. You beat me by one. It’s not your fault your marks didn’t have cash.”
“Don’t forget about the strip club passes.”
“Yeah, I used to have a drawer full of those until I started hitting other streets.” I laugh at the memory of when Harper and I first lived together and she went into the kitchen to look for a packet of sauce in a drawer and found those instead. She had a couple questions.
“Have you ever been caught lifting a wallet? Aside from me, that is,” Cillian asks.
“Once. It was years ago, though. The guy must have felt a tug and looked down. I ran like my hair was on fire. That’s when I started wearing wigs and things I could easily stuff in a trash can.”
“Smart. The one time I got caught, I thought I was going to shit my pants when I realized who caught me. Turned out to be the best thing for me.”
“Is this where you wax poetic about the guy who saved you from a life of crime? Because considering you work for a crime family, I think he failed.”
Cillian huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “No, I pickpocketed my boss, or rather my old boss. He’s retired, and now his son runs things.”
“Holy shit! You lifted from a mob boss?”
“You lifted from a lieutenant. Most would have freaked the fuck out once they found that out.”
“Yeah, but it was you. You don’t intimidate me. Not like an actual boss would.”
“I don’t know whether or not I should be offended. In some circles, I’m considered quite dangerous if you land on my bad side.”
He shoots me what I assume is his angry glare, but all it does is make me laugh. “Sorry,” I wheeze out. “Yes, you're a very intimidating, scary man.”
A rueful smile plays on Cillian’s lips as he sips his whiskey. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks, shaking his head.
“You could dance with me,” I answer as the band plays one of my favorite covers, adding their own flare.
“I’m not much for dancing, but go for it.”
I shrug and stand from my seat, dancing my way into the crowd that’s formed. My hips move to the deep bass of the song, and when I spin around, Cillian is watching me with his head slightly tilted and a smile tipping the corner of his mouth. I stay out on the floor for a few more songs before heading back to the bar. Instead of sitting, I stand next to Cillian, still swaying to the beat of the music while I sip my whiskey. Cillian’s face rests in the palm of his hand as he gazes at me, that smile he’s been wearing all night still on his face as he studies me.
“What?” I ask, leaning just a tad closer.
“I was just thinking this was not how I saw the night turning out. I thought I’d be having a nice dinner and a nightcap outside of my hotel rather than in my room like I normally do. Instead, I got stolen from, tracked down the thief, got roped into a pickpocketing challenge with said thief, and ended the night drinking with one of the most interesting, charming women I’ve ever met.”
“You think I’m charming?” I ask, leaning even closer. There’s attraction here, and though it’s probably one of the worst ideas I’ve had in a long time, I can’t stop imagining what his whiskey-slick lips would taste like.
Cillian’s gaze holds mine as his finger traces up my arm. “And beautiful. I don’t think I mentioned that.”
“You didn’t,” I reply as he slowly leans toward me with desire sparking in his eyes.
Then his phone vibrates loudly on the bar in front of him, lighting up with the name Ronin .
“Shit,” he breathes out and leans away from me. “Yeah,” he answers and listens for a few moments before talking again. “My flight lands at ten in the morning. I’ll be there for the install. Thanks for updating me.” He hangs up and looks at me with an apologetic look instead of the one I much preferred from moments ago.
And the spell is broken.
“I should get you home. I need to get back to my hotel and get a couple hours of sleep before my flight.”
“You’re leaving in the morning?” I’m just going to ignore the hint of disappointment that slipped out.
He nods. “Work.”
“Ah, yes. The life of crime waits for no man.”
He doesn’t answer, instead, he stands from his seat and throws a couple twenties on the bar before handing me the rest of the cash in his hand.
“Uh-uh. You won that fair and square,” I say, holding my hands up.
“I don’t know about the fair and square part.”
“To-may-to, to-mah-to.”
“Come on, I’ll give you a lift back to your place. Or do you have a car?”
“Nah, I cabbed it here tonight. I’m good.”
“Come on, Nova, let me save you the cab fare. At least then I’ll know you made it home safely.”
I want to tell him that I make it home safely by myself every night, but I’m also not quite ready to say goodbye.
Instead of arguing, I nod and he smiles brightly, taking my hand and leading me out of the bar. We walk a few blocks back to where he parked and not once does he let go of my hand. Nothing is going to come from this night. We both know that. He has a life in Boston, and I have my reasons for never wanting to be anywhere near Massachusetts, but that’s a conversation for another night that we won’t have.
Cillian drives me the fifteen minutes it takes to get back to my little bungalow I rent with Harper and parks in front before getting out and walking to my side of the car to open the door for me.
“Such a gentleman,” I say as I get out. Cillian doesn’t move when I stand, which brings us chest to chest for a few moments. He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it and steps away, allowing me to walk past him.
“Unfortunately,” he mumbles as we head up the sidewalk to my house.
We stand in front of my door, and all of a sudden, I’m feeling more awkward than I have the entire night. If Cillian were to bend down and kiss me like I can tell he wants to, I’d make his last few hours in New Orleans unforgettable. I’m no stranger to a one-night stand. If you have an itch, I say scratch it. But there’s something about the man standing in front of me that says that particular itch won’t be scratched so easily if he’s involved. And I have a feeling he’s thinking the same thing. What do you do when you meet someone who you have an instant chemistry with, but they live thousands of miles from you and everything you want?
“I guess this is good night,” I say. “I’d say sorry about the whole trying to steal your wallet thing, but I’m not.”
When Cillian smiles, it lights up his entire face, and I’ll be damned if I don't wish I’d be able to see it tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…
“You should do that more. It’s a good look on you,” I say, pointing to his mouth.
“Night, Nova.” He leans down and brushes his lips against my cheek before turning and heading down the stairs. When he gets to the bottom, he turns back around and jogs back up the cement steps.
“Hand me your phone real quick,” he says, holding out his hand. When I place it in his, he asks for my password.
Before thinking better of it, I reply, “072599.”
“I hope that isn’t your birthday.”
“Not mine.”
Cillian types away and hands the phone back to me. “Give me a call if you ever need anything.”
“Like what?” I can think of a few things I need at the moment, but that’s not what he’s offering.
Jesus, get a grip, girl.
“I don’t know. If you find yourself in hot water or anything, I know people who would help you out. I just…I just want you to have a way to get a hold of me.”
For the first time tonight, Cillian seems slightly flustered. And damn if I don’t find this side of him adorable.
“Thanks, Cillian. Have a safe trip back to Boston.”
He holds my stare for a beat before nodding and heading to his car. When he’s pulled away and makes a left at the stop sign back to the French Quarter, I unlock my door and head inside. Harper is curled up on the couch with a book and looks about ready to head to bed.
“Good night?” she asks, setting her book on the coffee table and rubbing her tired eyes.
“Best one in a long while.”
“Damon texted me all pissed off because you have a key to the employee bathroom.”
I roll my eyes. “No, Damon said that because he wanted a reason to text you.”
Harper laughs and shakes her head. “Probably true. He also said you left with some guy he’s never seen before.”
I smile, remembering the way Cillian’s eyes lit up when I told him my idea for our little game. “I did.”
“That’s all I get?”
I lean against the doorframe that separates the hallway from our small living room. “I met a guy, we hit it off, his life is in Boston, and mine’s here. That’s pretty much it.” As I say the words, they almost feel like a lie. Sure, it’s a true statement, but it’s also so much more, which is fucking weird and unexpected and, unfortunately, never going to be anything more than tonight.
“You have that look on your face,” Harper says, twirling the finger she’s pointing in my direction. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this particular one.”
It’s been a long time since anyone gave me these kinds of butterflies. There have been a few guys since I started living with Harper, but they burned out as quickly as they started. Then, in the last year since…yeah, I haven’t even had the slightest inclination to get involved with anyone.
“Nothing to do about it, I’m afraid.” I shrug with an unfamiliar feeling of a missed opportunity settling in my gut. “I’m going to bed,” I say and turn, walking down the hall to my bedroom at the end. “Night Harpy," I call.
“Night, Chevy,” she replies, and I smile at the silly nicknames we’ve used since the first night we met.
Harper is like a sister to me. She’s really the only family I have left after my brother took off to Massachusetts, where he’s now buried in some small town outside of Boston. I have no interest in anything having to do with that place or the people who reside there. Well, save for one. We’ll just have to chalk it up to one of those nights suspended in time. He has his life and I have mine, and that’s all it’s ever going to be.