Two
SPENCER
With a pocket full of ice, I reach for the black AmEx card sticking out of my mark’s purse, ready to seal the deal. I’m three seconds away from an early night when fire shoots through my veins, leaving an eighty-proof burn in its wake.
Charity St. James.
“Adam, you’re such a bad boy!”
Huh? Who the fuck is Adam?
The blonde I’d chosen to rob fucking blind runs her hand up my arm, pulling it away from her handbag. She bites her bottom lip and slides closer, and I realize she thought I meant to cop a cheap feel.
Apparently, I also told her my name was Adam.
I need to pay closer attention to the shit I say when working.
“Let’s go back to my place,” she whispers in my ear.
“The night is young, Mandy.”
The dreamy look in her eyes harden. “Mindy.”
Fuck.
“Of course. I know your name is Mindy.” Smiling, I take her chin in my hand while pretending to gaze in her eyes. “I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. I was feeling a little neglected.” I hold my breath as her glare softens, and her shoulders drop their tension.
Fucking Charity.
I was so caught up in watching what the hell she was doing, I forgot about my own target. That credit card will pay for a few nights in a Fallon deluxe suite. I can’t let her screw this up for me.
Charity likes to think she has claim on the upper echelon theft ring, but clubs are open season for our kind. No one can “claim” a territory like we’re the damn mafia. We take what we can, when we can. A victory is a victory, and if one of us gets the jump on another one, well, so be it.
Besides, my beautiful blonde competitor is rather myopic.
While Charity limits herself to high rollers, I spread myself evenly across all income levels.
I’m not a picky man. If a woman has shit I want, I’ll follow her just about anywhere to charm it off her.
The game means as much as the prize to me.
The rush of possibly getting busted while lifting jewelry or cash off a mark is a high I’ll chase over and over until I die. It never gets old.
She likes to think she hates me, but we both know passion boils raw and hot underneath all that animosity. She masks it with a smart mouth and crude hand gestures, but the push and pull of our line of work keeps us on our toes and in each other’s line of fire.
My history with Charity St. James has always been volatile.
I still remember the first time I saw her.
I’d already been on my own for eight years at twenty-two, and having been shuffled around from foster home to foster home most of my life, I’d been used to spending my time on the streets of South Beach. With the out of the ordinary as the norm, nothing usually surprised me or caught my eye…
Until she showed up at a club in a skin-tight red dress and expensive-as-fuck shoes I knew didn’t come from any department store. I’d watched her for a good hour before deciding the hot blonde with honey brown eyes would be my hit for the night.
Pay dirt.
For a guy who prided himself on reading people for a living, I totally missed the mark on her. I have to reach down and adjust my pants just thinking about what happened next.
Charity had excused herself to go the bathroom, and I realized too she’d lifted my wallet and took off.
It took me three months to run into her again.
I should’ve stolen everything she had right then and there.
We have an unwritten rule among thieves—no taking from another con.
But instead of being angry for what she’d pulled, it turned me on.
Nobody had ever gotten the jump on me, much less a woman.
“Adam, are you ignoring me?”
I blink, jolted back into the present by my companion’s whiny voice.
Throwing back a shot of whiskey, I run my tongue along the front of my teeth, absorbing the burn.
“No, baby. Just wondering how I got so lucky to be here with you. The night’s young.
I don’t want to rush what’s meant to be savored. ”
I want to punch myself for such a bad line. She’ll never buy it.
A full grin breaks out across her face. “That’s so sweet.”
Lucky for me, Mindy is dumber than I gave her credit for.
On the outside, I’m the epitome of calm, but inside I’m a hailstorm of chaotic energy. I want to tear across the bar and bust Charity’s ass in front of her score for distracting me. However, I hold back and instead taunt her with a few pointed looks and loaded smirks.
She doesn’t disappoint.
Judging by the lethal looks coming my way, she’s crafting creative ways to sever my dick from my body with those barbarian boots.
Checkmate, baby.
Once I see how it pisses Charity off to see me sprawled out in the VIP level of Suede, it eggs me on to rile her up more.
Mindy is my third mark of the night. Technically, the earrings I’ve already lifted would suffice enough to call it a win.
But I want to see that flush in my counterpart’s neck again and push more of her buttons.
Charity is sexier when she’s half a heartbeat away from chopping my dick off than when she’s smiling. Maybe it’s the challenge of taming the untamable, but goddamn, she gets my blood pumping like no other woman.
Miami is full of tanned, toned women who make it their mission to look damn near perfect.
Some make their goal shot, some fall slightly short of the baseline, and some never even make it into the stadium.
Charity looks stunning on a normal Wednesday afternoon in jeans and a sweatshirt, but tonight she’s the reason God invented two hands and one dick.
Her black sequined dress covers just enough skin to keep her out of jail.
Hugging her tight, it shows off her God-given assets and puts every other woman in the club to shame.
It seems tame from the front, but once she turns to the side, shit gets serious.
Two large ovals open on either side of her ribcage, exposing a trim waistline and multiple tattoos.
I swallow hard as my gaze catches the simple words written in black ink across her lower right rib.
Vivere senza rimpianti.
Live without regrets.
I’d welcome all regrets and every mark those spiked boots left on my shoulders any day of the week. Charity may be my rival, but I’m still a man. I still have eyes. The woman can stop a man’s heart and harden his cock without giving him a second glance.
Okay, so maybe I have a thing for her, but it’s purely physical. Wanting to sleep with her doesn’t mean I care for her business practices. I’m horny, not blind.
The lucky bastard who ends up with her tonight has one hell of a package to unwrap.
But it won’t be the douchebag who has his hands on her, that much I know.
He isn’t Charity’s type. In one glance, I had the guy figured out.
He’s a typical corporate poser who steals from innocent people to put money in Big Brother’s pocket.
I’m not ashamed of who I am. I fully admit to being a crook. The difference between a guy like that and me is that I steal to line my own pockets. I consider it a personal donation to my inability to stomach an office job.
After a quick location check of Mindy’s credit card, I glance back toward the bar, scowling as I watch the asshole rub his hands all over her. I hate my reaction, and self-sooth by telling myself it’s because any connection between them means she’s one step closer to besting me.
Yeah, right, Spence. Keep telling yourself that.
I stand abruptly, the noise in my head drowning out all common sense. Taking Mindy’s hand, I lean forward and kiss her wrist, grazing her skin lightly with my teeth. She lets out a dramatic shudder, and I have to force myself not to roll my eyes.
I’ve ridden this pony as far as she’ll run.
“Baby, I don’t know where our waitress went, but you shouldn’t have to wait for anything. I’m going to the bar to get you a drink. What would you like?”
It’s total bullshit. I don’t give a fuck if she waits until the place shut down. I have a mission and it involves making my way to the bar and ruining Charity’s night.
“I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri with whipped cream and a cherry.” Mindy giggles, biting her lip again.
Typical. What a pussy drink.
Leaning in again, I dust her cheek with my lips while running my hand along her outer thigh. “Don’t miss me too much.”
“Hurry back,” she slurs, half-lit from two drinks.
Lightweight.
I don’t answer, my smile slipping as I turn and head toward the bar.
I have no intention of bringing her a drink or anything else for that matter.
The only woman on my mind just slid off her barstool and shoved her tits in that dipshit’s face before squeezing his nonexistent biceps, then swinging her ass toward the bathroom.
Once I turn the corner into the small, darkened hallway, it takes me all of four strides to catch up with her.
I think about spinning her around to face me, but the opportunity to get under her skin is too tempting to pass up.
Sinking my fingers into the soft part of her elbow, I steer her toward the corner, and before she can open her mouth, I push her chest first against the cinder block wall.
Inhaling her spicy cinnamon perfume, I shift my hold from her elbow to her wrist and twist her arm behind her back to hold her in place.
I battle between wanting to force her hand and wanting to force her consent as I mold against her and press my mouth against the back of her ear.
“Get your eyeful, or do you want seconds?”