Chapter 7
Bridger
Montclair was stuffed with the wealthy. Every place we drove past was an obnoxiously large mansion with too many stories and fountains in the front and lawns that stretched on for miles, every last blade of grass cut just perfectly. I was always curious if anyone was actually allowed to step on it.
Big houses meant big money, though, so there was no reason to not hit another Montclair mansion again.
It would have been easy enough—and fun enough—to slip back into Juliette’s home and startle her and her weak, little husband once again, but a good criminal never hit the same house twice, and I prided myself on being a good criminal.
Nolan was gliding along the road as Chase sat next to him in the front seat, moving us closer and closer to the home Bennett had been casing. My heart was steady. Nerves never helped the situation and I always made sure to keep that shit on lock. No sweaty hands, no wide eyes, no second thoughts.
I tugged at the elastic of one of my black gloves, making sure it was on nice and tight when I heard Bennett speak up next to me.
“We should be able to make a really good profit tonight,” he said. “This guy has a bad habit of boasting about his watch collection online.”
I smiled at that. “I love rich assholes who don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”
“Yeah, me too. Speaking of…” Bennett’s voice lowered as he looked over his shoulder, throwing a quick glance at Chase and Nolan. “What’s going on with you and you know who?”
His words made me freeze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you went and saw her again.” Speaking so softly only I could hear, he leaned in close, his eyes and mouth the only visible features on him.
I hadn’t tugged my mask down yet, but Bennett had never not been a careful criminal.
“And I take it you were able to get through to her about not going to the police.”
“We wouldn’t be here right now if she had gone to the cops.”
A breath left him, all quick and sharp. “What did you two talk about exactly?”
“Just…” My boot covered foot tapped against the bottom of the van. “Look, she’s not going to the cops and that’s all that matters.”
“How certain can you be?” he asked, voice still below a whisper.
“Bennett, come on.”
“You’re sure, right?”
“You know how quickly the cops would be knocking on our door if she had told them about us?”
“I just want to be certain. I want to be positive.”
“She’s not gonna rat,” I said, looking ahead of me.
Bennett paused for a second. “I guess you two talked about her husband then.”
“About what exactly?”
He paused. “You said you two were together when you were eighteen, right?”
“Yeah…”
“But she…”
Turning to face him again, I eyed him up and down. “She what?”
Bennett blinked at me. “She married him not long after she graduated. She was eighteen when they got married. Didn’t you ask her about that?”
I froze, eyes locked to his. It really did feel like I was frozen to the fucking spot as I let that information sink in, but it was like my brain wouldn’t let me accept it.
I could envision it: her in a white gown that cost a million bucks, walking down the aisle to him, but then that image got black and blurry before I could process it fully.
I was pretty sure that was some coping mechanism from my brain to stop me from losing my shit, because I couldn’t handle that image.
Her getting married. Her promising forever to a man who wasn’t me, because once upon a time, that was all I dreamt about, and to think about her in some beautiful white gown as some other man slipped a ring on her finger? Fuck, that made my heart crack open.
“What do you mean?” I finally managed to ask, voice low.
“… Didn’t you know that?” Bennett asked.
“No,” I shot out.
“I found their marriage certificate online when I looked her up. Easy enough. I saw the date. I mean, you said you guys were both really in love, right? And then she just… goes and marries him right after you? Just a few weeks after you were sent to prison? That’s kinda fucked up.”
I was hearing the words. They all made sense, all strung together, all were clear enough, but nothing was fucking registering.
My head turned, looking away from Bennett and focusing my gaze ahead of me, to the white inner panels of the van.
She didn’t wait. There I was, caged in at eighteen.
Lost, distraught, heartbroken, aching for her.
And then she went ahead and married the kind of man she always told me she never wanted.
“I thought you knew,” Bennett whispered. “I’m sorry, Bridger. I mean, you went back and talked to her. I assumed you would have talked about that too. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No,” I said quickly, gaze still stuck ahead of me. “I’m glad you did.”
Bennett said something else, but it went in one ear and out the other, because all I could think of was Juliette and her ability to move on like I was nothing.
How long did she wait exactly? Maybe she had already gotten over me the next fucking day.
I was just something for her to use, some boy for her to shove in her parents’ face and their bullshit rules she had always told me they forced on her, but none of that really mattered in the long run, because she ended up marrying everything she said she hated.
Fucking little liar.
It was usually adrenaline that got me going, that had me darting up and down stairs and stealing shit, but right now? In that moment? It was nothing but blood red rage.
I heard the van door sliding open. I hadn’t even realized Nolan had pulled up in front of the place. Muscle memory kicked in, my fingers pulling my mask down.
I could see Bennett shooting me a worrying look as we jumped out of the van and moved over to the front doors of the home we were seconds away from hitting.
Steady. I needed to stay steady. Calm, collected, controlled, she fucking married him weeks after she was done with me.
My blood ran cold at the thought, my gloved hands quickly turning to fists.
I wanted to tell Nolan to turn the damn van around and drive back to Juliette’s house just so I could put a bullet in her husband’s head.
“Same as last time,” Bennett said. “Alarm’s been disabled, so we’ve got fifteen minutes to get in and out. We’ve got a Mr. Nate and Mrs. Sasha Woodcroft in there. Fifteen minutes will be enough time to get the good stuff. Make it ten, and you’ll make me a very happy man. You boys all good?”
“Perfect,” Chase said from behind me, one hand grasping my shoulder. “No staring off into the distance like last time, right, bud?”
“Shut the fuck up,” was all I said to him as Bennett pushed the heavy front door open.
That anger was still pulsing through me.
She didn’t even bother to wait. Probably fucking cheered when I got sent off to prison and then found the richest asshole she could at the country club.
I don’t care about money. I don’t want to marry anyone but you.
I could hear her voice in my head so clearly, so loudly, but I could hear mine too, and all it was saying was bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.
It was Bennett who led us up the spiral staircase, flashlight in hand as he guided us around corner after corner until we found the bedroom. That anger wouldn’t leave me. It stayed there, heavy and painful, like it was sitting on my chest and forcing me to feel every last bit of it.
That was when I took over, pushing open the door with a gentle hand.
More silence. The room was nice and dark, my footsteps as soft as I could make them as I let Bennett shine the light on the sleeping couple.
Two bodies were hidden under thick blankets, my hands outstretched and ready, about to grab the bigger silhouette which I assumed was the husband.
I had my hands on one of his arms a second later, twisting it behind his back as his breath hitched.
Bennett held the wife, her squeals loud before they quickly turned all muffled.
He must have had a hand on her mouth. And then Chase flicked the light on, flooding the black room with some much needed brightness.
“What… What’s going on?” the husband blurted out from below me. “What do you want?”
“We’ll make this easy for you,” I said, pulling out my gun and pressing the barrel to the back of his head.
I was jumping the gun—literally—but I was in a bad fucking mood and I wanted someone to take it out on, and the rich prick underneath me was the perfect candidate.
“Shut up and listen and nobody gets hurt. Do you wanna get hurt?”
“No… No… I don’t… I don’t wanna get hurt…” Nate whimpered out. “My wife… She—”
“We won’t hurt or touch her, but if you fuck up, this won’t end well for you. Are you gonna fuck up?”
His head shook wildly, his short brown hair a mess. “I won’t. I won’t.”
“Great. Safe or no safe?” I asked.
“Safe. In… In the walk-in closet.”
“Any weapons?” Bennett chimed up.
Nate stayed quiet. Too quiet. I gave him a violent shake, and he cleared his throat. “No weapons,” he said with a little squeak.
“See, now that sounds like a lie,” I said through clenched teeth. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna fuck up.”
“It’s not a lie! We don’t have anything. No guns, no—”
“We have a gun in the safe!” his wife cried out, her voice drenched with panic.
“Sasha!” Nate snapped.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said quietly. “Just one gun, right?”
“Yes,” Sasha answered. “Just the one. A small one.”
Small or not, it was still a gun, but I appreciated her honesty. “Alright, I need you to tell me the combination,” I said.
“No!” snapped Nate. “We’ve seen you people on the news. We know what you do! You’re not getting our things!”
“What’s more important? Your things or your lives?” I asked.
“Get off me!” He kept trying to throw me off, but my weight on him was too much, leaving him to just fidget around on the mattress. “I won’t let you do this!”