Chapter Eleven
Maren
I t’s hard to wake up the next morning. Hard because I’m tired, and hard because I feel...guilty, I guess is the word.
Guilty because I’m—however indirectly—the reason there’s a bounty on Rob’s head.
Guilty because I was here cozy in front of a fire while three of them were out risking their necks.
So when I wake up alone, in my own room, where I’d chosen to sleep, it takes me a while to gather myself and go downstairs. But eventually, the smell of coffee and syrup is too strong to resist. I pull on a loaner hoodie—whose it is, I don’t even know—and head downstairs.
“Morning.” Tuck’s at the stove, every burner topped with a different frying pan, and I pad to his side first, taking both the kiss on the cheek and the mug he offers. “What’re you in the mood for? I’ve got...everything.”
“I’m...” I blink. “Chef’s choice.”
He nods. “You got it. Sit, sit.”
I turn to the table. LJ’s at one side, sipping black coffee. Will’s on the other, leaning back in a chair, hands behind his head and a glass of tomato juice—or possibly a Bloody Mary—half-drunk in front of him. And between them is Nick, white as a sheet and frozen rigid.
I hold back a smirk and sit across from them. “Rough night?” I ask.
“Not too bad,” Will answers. “Little tossing and turning, but an empty bed will do that to—”
“Not you, ” I say, aiming a kick at him under the table. I nod at Nick. “You okay?”
“M’fine,” he mumbles, nodding a few times.
“You’re not eating,” I point out.
He stares down at his plate.
“I told him it wasn’t poisoned,” Will puts in, leaning forward again. “But I suppose there’s no reason to trust me.”
“It’s not poisoned,” I tell Nick. “Trust me. And if it is, I can heal you.” I wiggle my fingers. “Okay?”
Nick’s eyes dart nervously to LJ, who has barely moved except to drain more of his coffee. “Okay,” he says.
He bites about three crumbs of toast off a slice and puts it back down.
“There they are.” Rob strides into the room, somehow back to his old self, wearing a gray-green button-down and a broad, almost mischievous grin. “The finest criminal crew in all of Sherwood.”
“Not a lot of competition there,” LJ mutters, sliding a glance at Nick. Nick puts down his toast again, chastened. I shoot LJ a look— come on, dude —but he just stares right back, the kind of stare that makes my stomach flip over, and not in a bad way.
“You’re dressed...well,” Will says, raising an eyebrow and lifting his glass. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Feeling fine. Because we’re back in business, baby.”
Will lets out a short, sharp exhale through his nose, as if this was exactly what he didn’t want to hear, and rubs his temples.
Rob pulls out a chair, spins it, and sits on it backward. “Got it all planned out. We’re going into town.”
“Town?” LJ says.
“ We ?” Will says.
Rob nods. “Operations resume today.” He raps his knuckles on the table. “Ah, thank you.”
He accepts a cup of coffee from Tuck, who settles at my right, dropping a plate in front of me.
“Operations?” I fork up a sausage link. Maybe it’s the food, or maybe it’s the fact that Rob is a good mood—a very good mood—after what I thought was a disaster of a night, but I’m suddenly curious, and moderately less guilty.
“The things we, well, do around here,” Tuck says. “You know.” He raises his eyebrows.
“Or used to,” Will amends, “before you showed up. No offense.”
“None taken,” I say. “I think.” I swig some coffee—I need more caffeine for this. “So, wait, like the actual stealing from the rich and giving to the poor stuff?”
LJ puts down his own mug. “Easy, Princess. You wanna just say everything in front of company, here?”
He glares to his side. Nick’s eyes go wide.
“I won’t tell,” he rushes out. “Promise, man. I’m good with secrets. Ask anyone. My sister’s been stealing the gin out of my old man’s liquor cabinet for years and I never even told him she’s putting water in there.”
A beat passes. Then Tuck and Will crack up. LJ doesn’t. Rob just smiles.
“Cute,” he says. “That’s why you’re still breathing. Anyway.” He straightens up. “It’s not rocket surgery. Just a divide and conquer sort of thing. Typically we’re gonna start by identification—”
“Data,” Tuck interrupts. “You know, tax records, foreclosure filings, eviction notices, that kind of thing. Whatever I can pull to suss out who’s hurting and who’s hoarding.”
“Right.” Rob nods. “We want to be methodical. Make sure we give to and take from the right people. So while that’s going on, we scout locations and case our options—”
LJ grunts. I suppose that’s his job—which makes sense. I wouldn’t really fuck with any of these guys if I came across them in a dark alleyway, but I’d fuck with LJ least of all.
“—and prepping the gear—”
Will does an elaborate salute. “You’re very welcome.” He grins at me. “I do love a good toy.”
I stick my tongue out at him. He runs his own tongue over his upper lip—annoyingly sexy, even if he’s making fun of me.
“—and then execution,” Rob says. “Two-man teams, usually. Get in, get assets—
“Cash,” Tuck says, “sometimes. Or cleanable valuables. Sometimes consumer goods, depending.”
“Right,” Rob says. “Then the redistribution part.” He waves a hand at Tuck, who nods.
“A little...laundering,” he says to me. “Dummy accounts, crypto shells, accounts we control basically.”
“And from there, it’s whatever,” Will finishes. “Pay taxes, wipe debts, send anonymous bank cards loaded with cash. Sky’s the limit. Make it rain.”
Rob nods. “Rinse and repeat.”
I can’t help it; I’m fascinated.
“You look surprised,” Tuck observes.
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess...it’s just way more systematic than I expected.”
“They do call it organized crime for a reason,” Will muses, looking at his fingernails.
“We’re not just a bunch of pretty faces, Maren,” Rob says. “We’re professionals. ”
“Professional whats? ” LJ mutters, but I can see a gleam in his eye. Like he’s excited, too. Like it’s been too long, and he’s finally stretching a long-dormant muscle.
They all are.
Rob looks to Tuck. “You’re on your...whatever you need?”
Tuck looks up from his phone. “Firing up the VPN as we speak.” He cracks his knuckles. “Hack the planet, baby.”
“Great.” Rob snaps his fingers at Nick. “You. Kid. You can read?”
“Uh...” Nick looks at me, of all people, for guidance. It’s sweet, actually, like he thinks I’m his big sister or something.
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Can you?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I can,” he says quickly. “Totally.”
“Excellent.” Rob points at Tuck. “You’ve just earned yourself an apprenticeship with the office of the exchequer.”
If Tuck is annoyed to be saddled with a helper, he hides it well. “Hope you like spreadsheets,” he says. “And data validation.”
Rob, meanwhile, nods at LJ. “As for you, Big Guy, you’re coming with me. Gonna case the usual joints, take stock of their...stock. Just like old times. But with a lower profile, I guess.”
“I’m taking the bike,” LJ says.
“Did you hear what I just said?” Rob replies. “Low profile. You can’t take the bike.”
LJ makes a grunt of disagreement.
“Nah, he’s right, you can’t.”
All eyes in the room turn to Nick.
“Excuse me?” LJ says, in the same tone you might say you have made a grave mistake while cracking your knuckles.
“Um.” Nick swallows hard. “Just, uh, the roads are washed out? From the rain?” He bobs his head up and down. “I had to leave my truck way back at the edge of the forest and hoof it in last night. S’a mess.”
“You walked all the way here?” Rob lifts an eyebrow, impressed.
Nick stares at the table. “Uh. Yeah. No big deal.”
“Fine,” LJ says. “So how are we gonna get into town?”
Rob chuckles. “Oh, please.”
And he disappears.
Or no, not disappears. Shifts. Where a moment ago was the laid-back, lanky human that is Rob Locksley, now there is a wiry fox the color of a sunset and the size of a baby Great Dane.
And then, just as fast, Rob reappears.
“Holy shit,” Nick says. “Holy fucking. Did he just—you—” He swivels around, looking wildly in every direction, then back at Rob. “Dude!” He claps a hand over his eyes. “Your dick is like...out.”
Will absolutely loses his shit laughing.
Tuck laughs, too, and I snicker a little as Rob pulls his pants back on.
“Do I make myself clear?” he says, grinning. “We’re all-terrain vehicles, my friend. We’ll figure it out.”
LJ just rolls his eyes, even though I can see the hint of a smile on his lips. “Fine. Garage, in ten.” He gets up and strides out the door, not waiting for an answer.
Rob sighs. “Does leadership not mean anything to you people anymore?” But he doesn’t protest.
Nick, meanwhile, is still bugging his eyes back and forth at each of us in turn.
“They can...do that,” I say to him. “And I guess they like using it for shock value.”
Will catches his breath, and when he does, glances at Nick, too. “You gonna make it?”
“Uh.” Nick freezes. Then nods. “Yeah. I think.”
“Great,” Rob interjects, buttoning his shirt. “And you, my friend...” He looks at Will.
“Me?” Will presses a hand to his chest. “Whatever could you have in store for me?”
“Your very favorite.” Rob grins. “Paperboy route.”
At that, Will deflates a little. “You’re serious?”
“As a bear attack,” Rob says. “It’s a good first step. Jumpstart things a little.”
Will wrinkles his nose. I swallow the rest of my French toast.
“Question,” I say, leaning in between them a little. “Or, two, actually.” I frown. “What is a paperboy route? And what am I doing in all of this?”
“Good point.” Rob rubs his jaw. Then shrugs. “Go with Scarlet, I guess. Low-risk, high reward. It’ll give you all those do-gooder endorphins.”
“ Okay ,” I say patiently, “and it is...what, exactly?”
“ It is piddly shit,” Will says. “It is what it sounds like. Dropping off paper.”
“As in...?”
“As in getting cash from our accounts and just...handing it out.” Will shrugs. “Not obnoxiously, or anything. We’re not flashing Benjamins on street corners. But to people who deserve it. Ad hoc. Just because.” He sighs.
“It’s good work,” Rob says. “It’ll shift the tone on things. Stir the pot just enough. And give us a quick win. Little...morale boost for the team.”
Will sighs.
“You’re not wrong.” He slaps his knees. “Fine. Paperboy it is. Or...paperboy and girl, I guess.” He stands, looks down at me. “You ready for your first ride-along, greasemonkey?”