Chapter 5 – Magnolia
CHAPTER
FIVE
MAGNOLIA
I thought getting in would be the hard part.
Turns out, it’s getting out of here without doing something incredibly stupid.
Like staring too long, asking too many questions, or—hypothetically speaking—developing a sudden and deeply inconvenient attraction to the woman who just committed a felony with surgical precision three feet away from me.
Because she, and I really cannot stress this enough, is very good at what she does.
It’s not just the breaking in or the safe cracking, though that was a little mesmerizing if I’m being honest. It was everything else.
The way she moved like she’d already anticipated every possible outcome and discarded the ones she didn’t like.
The way she didn’t rush, how she didn’t hesitate or second-guess a single decision.
Confidence mixed with competence is a whole nother level of sexy, and to say I wasn’t prepared for it is putting it lightly.
“Why are you staring?” Leni asks, her silky voice cutting through my thoughts as she continues down the corridor without looking back.
“I’m not staring,” I snap, shifting the bag higher on my shoulder as I follow a step behind. “I was observing.”
A soft scoff drifts back to me. “And what exactly am I doing that requires such intense observation?”
Breathing. Existing. Making crime look like an art form.
“Making sure you don’t trip over your own ego on the way out,” I toss back instead.
“That’s not a concern.”
“Of course it’s not,” I all but mutter, my eyes going for a spin.
We round the last corner toward the exit corridor, and for a brief, fleeting moment, this all feels too easy. Way too fucking easy, which is exactly why the sound registers later than it should.
Footsteps, and they’re not ours.
They echo faintly at first, then grow clearer, measured and unhurried in a way that immediately sets every nerve ending on edge. It’s the kind of sound that belongs to someone with a routine, someone doing their rounds. Someone doing their job.
The realization springs me into action. I don’t think, I just react. My fingers instinctively catch the back of her sleeve, pulling her to an abrupt stop. She stills just as quickly, no resistance or questioning to follow, just complete, seamless awareness.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The footsteps draw all the more closer, spiking my pulse with such ferocity, I can hear it roaring in my ears.
As if she can sense my unease, Leni slides an arm across my chest and gently pushes me backward, flattening us both to the cool wall.
I force myself to still, to breathe, to not do the exact kind of panicked thing that would give us away.
We’ll be fine. We’re in the shadows. Just breathe. Keep breathing…
A few moments later, the guard appears, striding across the intersecting hallway ahead of us.
I’m not great with measurements, but I’d say he’s anywhere from thirty to forty feet away.
He doesn’t even glance our way, his gaze trained straight ahead as his obscured figure briefly cuts across the dim light before disappearing again.
Once his footsteps can no longer be heard, Leni retracts her arm and hits me with a, “Now,” the word barely more than a breath as she hustles out of sight.
I follow just as quickly, my pulse still racing as we slip past the corridor he just cleared without making a sound.
“Okay,” I exhale, my voice somehow steadier than I actually feel. “That felt like something we should address.”
“Okay. It was inefficient,” she replies, her tone cool as a cucumber as though we hadn’t just come within a few feet of blowing the entire operation.
“Inefficient?” My head nearly rears off my neck. “Who cares about efficiency? We almost got caught!”
“We didn’t.”
“That feels like a very convenient interpretation.”
“Because it’s the only one that matters,” she fires back.
I open my mouth to argue, only to close it again because, annoyingly enough, she’s not wrong. We didn’t get caught.
The exit door comes into view a moment later, the faint glow of streetlights filtering in through the glass.
Like the light at the end of a long tunnel, I pick up the pace, ignoring the jackhammering in my ears.
As soon as it’s within reach, Leni reaches for it and pushes the door open, the cool night air rushing in to meet us.
I inhale deeply and step out behind her, the door clicking shut with a quiet finality that feels almost anticlimactic considering everything that just happened.
For a moment, I let myself feel it. All of it.
The fading rush of adrenaline, the lingering tension still humming beneath my skin, the quiet, almost surreal realization that we pulled it off.
We actually did it.
Adjusting the strap on my shoulder, I fall into step beside her as we turn onto the sidewalk and leave Preston’s building behind. The energy between us shifts, softening slightly at the edges, enough to make room for something lighter to slip through.
“That deserves at least a small celebration. Maybe a high five. Possibly a commemorative t-shirt or a drink.”
Leni glares at me from the corner of her eye and continues onward. “This isn’t a milestone. It was a job, end of story.”
“No. It absolutely is a milestone,” I counter, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Because that was my first felony.”
“Clearly,” she grumbles.
A quiet laugh slips out of me, but I don’t push the topic, allowing nothing but the sounds of the unsleeping city to filter between us. At least for a few moments…
“Are you always this calm after committing a crime, or is this just another Tuesday for you?” I ask after a beat.
“This is normal.”
“Of course it is. My apologies, Ice Queen. I should’ve known.”
Another peripheral glare shoots my way, but she doesn’t answer.
I keep waiting for something to happen. For the security guard to catch up with us or sirens to come barreling around the corner. It never comes, though, and she makes no move to leave me behind. By the time we’ve cleared at least five blocks, my curiosity finally wins out.
“So,” I start, glancing over at her as we stop at another crosswalk. “Can I ask you something without you judging me for it?”
“You’re going to ask anyway, so you might as well get it over with,” she deadpans.
True.
“Is Leni your real name?”
That gets a reaction. Subtle, but it’s there, like I’ve brushed up against something just outside the boundaries of what she usually offers a stranger.
“No, it’s not,” she says, her tone cautious and uncertain. “My parents apparently wanted me to be a Golden Girl. I avoid the full rendition like the plague.”
I huff out a laugh because if she only knew... “Okay, that’s fair. I had a feeling.”
One of her brows, the slashed one, spikes in a perfect arch. “You did?”
“Yeah. It’s too approachable.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“It’s not a problem.” I shrug. “Just doesn’t match someone who pulled off what you did tonight.”
A quiet pause follows. I can see the wheels turning in her head as she considers what I’ve just said. Those brown eyes flicks between mine briefly, something unreadable passing through them before she looks ahead again.
“Lenoire,” she states, tipping her head across the street as the crosswalk blinks in our favor.
“Lenoire,” I repeat, savoring the name on my tongue for a second. “Yeahhh, that fits a lot better.”
No comment follows, but it seems I’m not the only one who’s curious. “I’m assuming Mags isn’t yours, either?”
“Correct.” I sigh. “Unfortunately, my parents were very committed to the whole Southern charm thing.”
“Ah, so Magnolia,” she says confidently, earning her a nod. “It suits you.”
Did the… Did the Ice Queen just give me a compliment?
That catches me off guard, my brows lifting slightly as my stomach does this ridiculous flutter thing. “You say that like it’s a compliment.”
She looks over at me again and hitches a shoulder. “It was.”