THIRTY-FIVE
Gigi
I’ve been restless all night, and as the blue light of dawn peeks through the curtains my concerns should be on the Weathers heist, but Harry plagues my thoughts. The dirty, rotten bastard is so confident I’ll come crawling back to him, but he has something else coming.
I won’t succumb to his pressure … although thinking about him won’t hurt. As I lie in bed in my studio apartment on what may be my last day here, my fingers drift between my legs and I think of Harry St. James.
I imagine how my fingers would run through his tousled black hair, threading them against my skin before I’d tug, demanding his touch everywhere.
We’d be in the comfort of the black silk sheets of his house, and he’d prep my body with an abundance of bites and nips of the skin. He’d flip me over onto my stomach, pull me up on all fours, and push inside of me in one harsh thrust that would feel nothing short of heaven.
My imagination runs wild, and I hit my peak, my back bowing off the bed as I stroke my clit faster and roll my nipple between my fingers. Body quivering with aftershocks, I fall back against the mattress with a huff and a heavy exhale.
Thoughts don’t suffer consequences , I think.
Pretty pleased with myself, I shower and dress in the combat gear that was left aside for me. My new revelation instantly becomes the worst thing in existence when my eyes land on Harry in the courtyard as the team prep the truck.
When I see him, I think, Thoughts have bad – very bad – consequences. Because now I’m thinking of how good he fucked me this morning.
If I thought he looked good yesterday, when he was asserting his authority on the group, he looks delicious right now. The whole team are in protective armour, yet on him it looks ravenous. He looks like some muscular security guard in the dark uniform, with a balaclava hanging out of his back pocket. His arms are crossed tight while he discusses final details with the Boss.
Andy double-checks the weapons as they’re loaded into the armoured truck. It’s metres-deep, and the interior has built-in seating on either side, where a few people sit casually, laughing as if today is a breeze for them. Meanwhile I recite everything I know as I hold the pistol in my palms like a school entry exam.
“Safety,” I say under my breath, brushing the pad of my thumb over the small switch.
“Hey, Gigi.” Oliver jogs over to me, holding some black tank top-like thing. “Thought you wouldn’t have one yet, so here. When you join the Circle, you’ll have one specially adapted to your body shape, but for now it’s just a generic size.” He hands it out to me, and I take it cautiously.
“Uhh, thanks …”
Clearly noticing my scepticism, he smiles. “It’s a bulletproof vest.”
Hiding the shock in my eyes, I nod and pull it on over my head. “Of course. That’s exactly what I thought it was.”
Dropping his voice quieter, he says, “Don’t worry. I had no idea what one was when I joined my first heist. You’ll do great.”
“She might not do great,” a feminine voice says.
Fucking Poppy.
My teeth grind on her approach. I haven’t laid eyes on her since the boxing ring, and I feel about ready to hit her again. Concealing my frustration, I squeeze my fists and welcome the feeling of nails biting into my palm. She wanders over, struggling to hide her smirk as her gaze lingers on the yellowing bruise on my cheekbone.
“Good luck today, Thomas. You’re going to need it.”
“Leave her alone, Penelope.” Poppy snarls at the use of her full name. Oliver does a double-take of her clothes. “You’re not on the schedule for today. What are you—?”
“What the fuck is she doing here?” a voice booms. Harry storms over, pointing an accusing finger directly at Poppy. The exact finger I imagined—
Nope. Not going there.
His fury is lethal, and I imagine if I were to touch his skin, it would be scorching with heat, so I purposely step aside as he stares her down with accusation.
“Who gave you orders to be here today?”
She smirks, her voice turning sweet and innocent. “I’m taking Leroy’s place.”
Harry reaches to the floor of the truck, taking a clipboard and scanning through the paperwork quickly. His body is rigid, and the muscles in his neck strain, his upper lip curling into a snarl. “Why wasn’t this relayed to me this morning? You know the protocol – all information should have passed me first before decisions were finalised.”
She shrugs, acting disinterested, but the amusement in her features is a dead giveaway of her real feelings. “See you on the field, Thomas,” she says, pulling herself into the back of the truck and occupying one of the seats in the far corner.
Andy’s voice breaks the tension as he shouts out to those lingering around the back of the vehicle, “Ready to go! Load ’em up!”
“Fucking unbelievable,” Harry mutters under his breath.
“Everything will be fine, man. Don’t worry about it.” Oliver pats Harry on the shoulder reassuringly before following in pursuit of Poppy.
Just as I’m about to grab the railing to pull myself up onto the truck’s lower platform, Harry grabs my bicep. “Not so fast.”
His eyes drop to the bulletproof vest swamping my chest and his lips turn down in a sad smile. Pulling on the sides, he fastens the straps. They’re secured tightly, yet his touch lingers.
Keeping his gaze down, he asks, “If I asked you to stay behind, would you?”
I shake my head, and I can tell he catches the action in his peripheral because he exhales, defeated, dropping his hands.
“Let’s get a move on then, princess. We don’t want to be late for your special day.”
We climb into the truck, and after doing the final checks we’re en route. Including rush-hour traffic, it’ll take us just short of fifty minutes to reach our destination. The whole team, myself included, are sitting in the back of the truck looking like a SWAT team in our matching outfits.
There are eight of us in total on today’s heist. The Boss would never attend a robbery – pretty self-explanatory, really. Andy is here, as well as Poppy and Oliver, Whizz Tech Dan too, but he’ll stay in the back of the vehicle. A few of them smile sympathetically at me, while others avoid me with impressive determination. Despite what lies ahead, my body pounds with a mixture of adrenaline and exhilaration, causing me to fist the gun in my hands like a safety blanket.
“Ten minutes out,” the driver’s voice echoes through the speakers.
My heart rate spikes.
Harry stands, dishing out final orders for the team, and the action is so attractive it should be illegal.
It kind of is … but I choose to willingly forget that detail.
He’s all stern-looking. Dressed in uniform. Like a leader. His brows are pinched, and the veins in his arms protrude as he holds onto the bars above his head, his body rocking with the dips in the road.
The fixation of wanting to kiss him so badly briefly eradicates any fear.
“You should all know the plan,” he says. “I don’t want any fuck-ups today. We get the job done, and we’ll be in and out in less than twenty minutes. You all have your designated workstations. We stick in our pairs. Gigi, you’re with me. Andy with Poppy since Leroy isn’t here …”
I lose track from there.
Instead of listening to Harry, I’m mentally reciting that the weapons are only meant for intimidation. People will submit to anything when they have a gun aimed at their head – or so I’ve heard. The pistol feels heavy in my hands, but it’s nothing compared to the much larger weapons the rest of the team have slung over their shoulders. It seems reasonable enough since I’m the trainee here.
“Two minutes,” the same voice says again.
Harry finally sits down by my side, the warmth that radiates from his body enticing me to lean closer. His knee brushes against mine, and I know that’s the most comfort I’ll receive. Leaning down to fasten his shoelace, he says under his breath, “Don’t leave my side. No matter what happens.”
I nod my head.
“It’s not too late to stay in the van.”
I look away. “Not a chance.”
My eyes land on Poppy as she shoots daggers from her end of the truck. I smile and wave. She scoffs, turning away, busying herself with the weapon in her hands. It looks like a machine.
The van slows on approach.
“No turning back now,” I mutter.
Harry forcefully swallows and squeezes my knee before getting to his feet and relaying orders to us all one final time. My heart accelerates as if I’m running for my life. I reckon if I were wearing a smartwatch, it’d tell me to calm the fuck down.
But there’s no time to catch your breath when you’re the criminal.
The van pulls to an abrupt stop, causing my whole body to move on the seat. Tugging at my elbow, Harry pulls me to my feet, and if he can feel the nervous sweat breaking out on my skin, he doesn’t mention it.
Everyone pulls down the balaclavas, and I do the same, concealing everything but my eyes and mouth. The first thing I can think is that it’s fucking hot under here. I need to find a way to control my breathing, but I’m barely able to consider the possibility as the truck doors fly open.
“Go! Go! Go!”
FUCK.
I jump down from the platform and onto the pavement with a thud, sticking by Harry’s side like a lost puppy. Andy throws open the bank doors, and the crew run into the building with all guns blazing – literally – making people duck to the ground and hide their heads, with flailing arms and high-pitched screams.
Harry tugs his trigger, sending a cascade of bullets into the air.
That’s the first lot down, the only bullets we’re meant to use – the ones that announce our presence and signal we mean business.
“Stay down!” he shouts. “Put your hands where we can see them! We’re not here to hurt you.”
They obey his orders, dropping to their knees and raising their arms like a white flag of surrender.
While I thought I’d be terrified by the prospect, there’s authority in having people practically bowing at your feet. Understanding the euphoria that criminals chase, I find myself looking at Harry with new admiration as he shouts his orders. My hands start to shake, and I feel the toxicity surging through my veins and threatening to take over my body. I fight it, unprepared to give in to the temptation of lethal power .
Breathe.
Poppy and Andy’s job is to get the money from the vault. They’ll then pass it to Oliver, who’s guarding the doorway, and then to Harry and me at the entrance. The plan is well-executed, and since I’m the rookie, it’s best I intervene as little as possible.
So I’m understandably surprised when Poppy rushes over to me in a state of urgency and starts tugging at my elbow to have me follow her.
“Thomas, come on!” she hisses, her stern gaze allowing no room for argument.
Breathe.
Breathe.
This was not part of the plan.
I turn to Harry in a panic, and his face is equally confused. His green eyes narrow into slits, and he wraps his hand around my bicep as if he’s attaching himself to me.
“Fuck off. She’s not leaving my side,” he growls. “We stick with the original plan. You’re with Andy.”
“It’s easier if she comes with me. I can keep a lookout to make sure no one infiltrates either of us, and she’ll fit in the space much easier than Andy will. You know she’s the better option.” Poppy tugs again at my opposite arm, and I’m pulled from pillar to post like a game of tug-of-war. “You’re wasting time!”
My throat constricts, my heart smashing against the inside of my chest with each rapid beat.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Harry exchanges glances with Andy and squeezes his eyes shut tight in his inner turmoil. My gaze drops to where he holds his gun. His knuckles are starting to turn white, and the weapon looks like it’ll snap in half .
Gnawing at my bottom lip, I whip my head between the two of them as if I’m watching a tennis match. Perhaps this could be the perfect opportunity to assert my authority within the Circle. I have my gun, I’ll have Poppy, Harry will be close by …
“I’ll do it,” I rush out. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”
I pull my arm from Harry’s hold. If he wants to fight me on the decision, he’ll have to do it another time, because the hold-up is quickly eating away our twenty-minute timeframe.
He huffs, ushering me away quickly. “Fine! Go. Hurry.”
“Follow me,” Poppy says.
Harry shouts, “Look after her!”
I follow Poppy, not having time to consider how ethical my decision is. Despite our differences, I can only hope she’s being authentic. She weaves us through a hallway, past petrified customers who shake with fright, and in through a door that leads to a tiny room.
“In here,” Poppy calls over her shoulder.
The room is loaded with filing cabinets and a desk that fits snugly in the corner. It’s tight, and there’s barely enough room for two of us, so it seems she wasn’t lying about there being limited space. The vault is behind another closed door, but she encourages me to keep a lookout as she says, “Let me check the coast is clear. Stay here.”
I nod, drawing my gun to my chest as my eyes flicker to the open space outside the door. While I’m waiting for any sign of activity a flush of pride warms my chest. If committing to a change of plan during a high-scale operation isn’t worthy of gaining access to the Circle, I don’t know what is. The Boss will be so proud that I voluntarily stepped up – especially at such short notice. I’ll even have to thank Poppy for encouraging me to come with her despite any ulterior motive she might have.
Exiting the room, she steps aside to let me pass .
“The coast is clear,” she says. “Go ahead.”
HARRY
What the fuck is Poppy playing at? It’ll be easier , my ass. I’m not sure what that bitch is up to, but I don’t feel comfortable with it. If this is her way of trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.
Bile creeps up my throat, but I force it back down, never letting my concentration sway – not on a job. I thought it would be in Gigi’s best interest if I didn’t take my eyes off her today, and since she’s no longer in my sight I can feel my blood curdling with worst-case scenarios.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who can sense my eye is off the ball.
Andy approaches my side, hissing under his breath, “She’ll be fine. If you’re already losing focus over that woman, maybe having her around isn’t a good idea.”
I bite my tongue, withholding my truth.
A civilian walks a little too close with their arms raised, and Andy immediately shakes his gun.
“Step back!” he roars, pointing the weapon at the man’s chest.
I keep darting my focus back to the door Poppy and Gigi disappeared through, waiting for a flicker of movement to reassure me everything is fine. Checking the large clock positioned on the wall of the bank, I realise we’re less than five minutes from needing to be back in the getaway vehicle.
What the fuck is taking them so long?
Perhaps everyone wasn’t accounted for. Maybe there’s a problem …
But there couldn’t have been. Poppy would have had to check everyone—
My stomach plummets with dread. Fucking Poppy would have counted.
Mentally reciting the number of people in front of us, I scan the front entryway .
Three customers, a security guard, and a member of staff.
That makes five.
I spin to the wooden desk where Oliver’s standing watch. There are three people cowering underneath it.
That makes eight.
Whipping my head to the left, I find another two members of staff standing by the back door, working on the miniature safe that’ll hold no less than twenty thousand pounds in cash.
That’s ten … but where’s the eleventh—?
BANG!
A gunshot rings, and my body stills.
Everything grinds to a halt. My mind silences the ear-splitting echo of screams.
There wasn’t meant to be any gunfire except for our entry.
My hearing kickstarts, grinding into overdrive, and the screams are like a deathly siren call. Andy and I exchange a sudden look, and my heart races a mile a minute, my head screaming to move as I catch the fear mirrored in his eyes.
“Guard this fucking door!” I shout, pointing at him.
He nods, and I raise my gun as I follow the source of the lone bullet. Through my pursuit I curse, spit pleas, and send a silent prayer up to the man Himself that my girl isn’t hurt. Not that he’d listen to a fucking criminal.
I reach a hallway, struggling to know which way to turn, but when I hear the whimpers similar to those of an injured puppy I proceed with caution and overwhelming anxiety.
Throwing open the door at the far end, I almost stumble over at the sight.
Gigi’s back is pressed up against the wall, and she’s visibly paling by the second. The cause is as obvious as the blood pooling around her lower body. Her lower lip quivers, and she clutches onto her thigh, which frantically spills red liquid like an overflowing tap. A man – who I recognise as a member of staff from his tailored suit and nameplate – sits in the entryway to the vault, shaking his hands in surrender, dropping the pistol to his lap.
My throat goes raw. “You fucking shot her.”
I see red.
I raise my gun.
“No, please—”
I don’t give the cunt a second to fucking breathe, much less the chance to beg for his pitiful life, before I pull the trigger, mowing him down in a rain of gunfire, until his body goes limp. Even then I charge over to his body, forcefully pull down the dead man’s chin, and send a bullet through the roof of his mouth into his fucking brain.
The impact causes blood to spray onto my face, tainting my skin with the fuckwit’s DNA.
Before I succumb to the darkness I throw my gun over the strap on my shoulder and rush to Gigi’s aid. In her agony she sounds like a weeping kitten, and it fucking breaks my heart to hear her like that. Tears prick my eyes, and when I pull her into my arms she exhales the most soul-breaking noise.
“I’ve got you, baby. Shh, it’s okay.”
She whimpers, ducking her head into my chest, her body starting to shake with adrenaline from the blood loss. I halt when I see the amount of blood staining the marble floor.
So. Much. Blood.
I start to have flashbacks to my first initiation.
I killed a man—
I shake my head no. This is not the fucking time.
“Harry,” Gigi cries.
SHIT.
I don’t bother looking for that fucking redhead before I’m racing out the room to the exit of the bank. I storm through the double doors, bellowing to Andy over my shoulder that he needs to wrap up the job because we’re leaving now .
The van pulls up out front and Whizz Tech Dan throws open the back doors, shouting, “What the fuck happened!” as I step into the back with Gigi still in my arms.
I shake my head, struggling to put the betrayal into words.
Thankfully, Dan’s head is more in the game than mine, and he comes running over with a pile of gauzes, putting pressure on the wound to act as a plug for the bleeding. A cry breaks free from Gigi’s throat, and like the fucking pathetic man I am, I struggle to even look her in the eyes. I rock her close to my chest, reciting all the reasons why I’m to blame.
This is all my fault.
This is all my fucking fault.
Barely a minute passes before the remainder of the crew jumps into the back of the truck. The doors slam closed, and we jolt forwards as the tyres screech along the road, but the sound is nothing compared to the echoes of pain that slip from Gigi’s lips.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Oliver says, stumbling over his words.
When I raise my head I watch him with a half-lidded expression. His eyes, along with the team’s, are scanning the blood pooling at my feet and dripping off my fingers like I’ve just traipsed through the depths of hell. The rage and anger alight my senses as I catch Poppy watching us in my peripheral, motionless.
Andy sits to my left, taking over the spot from Dan as he presses harder on Gigi’s wound. With tunnel vision, I pass her body over to his, ignoring her dainty hands trying to grasp at the front of my shirt, desperate to keep me close.
“H-Harry,” she pleads, voice weak .
But I’m seeing red again.
Standing to my full height, my fists tighten as I lock eyes with Poppy. “What. The fuck. Happened?”
She shrugs.
Her face morphs into that of the man I just killed. The man responsible for shooting Gigi, because I just fucking know she was responsible.
Composure cracking, I storm over to Poppy, slamming my palm onto her forehead and smacking her head against the interior wall of the truck with a bang similar to a bullet.
She shouts, “What the fuck—!”
“YOU FUCKING CUNT!” I roar. “You knew he was in there, didn’t you?”
She says nothing.
Fury fires through me as I scoff, “Did Richard set you up to this?”
“What?” she asks, bewildered. “No!”
Despite her denial, I see the way Poppy’s eyes dilate until I can only see a small ring of blue. They dart around the truck, looking everywhere but at me.
“Fucking answer me!”
Her gaze clashes with mine and her nostrils flare.
I’d put my life on the line to bet she’s hiding something. There’s something she’s not telling me, and I fucking know it. It’s evident through her accelerated breathing making her chest fall rapidly, and the sheen of sweat that’s quickly forming on her brow.
“Did. He. Do. This?”
She stares straight through me and grits, “No.”
I never thought I’d put my hands on a woman, but I’m not entirely sure Poppy’s human at this point, so there’s my fucking exception. Before I can even wring my hands around her neck and squeeze the truth out of her, Oliver pins my arms behind my back and tugs me backwards.
“You don’t want to do that, mate. ”
I fight against him as I spit, “I think I fucking do.”
I’m about ready to disarm Oliver of his weapon and direct it right at her skull when Andy’s panicked voice cuts through the tension.
“Harry!”
Tearing myself away, my hands are finally unleashed, and I turn to the voice calling my name. My best friend’s eyes are full of panic, and it doesn’t dawn on me why … until I look down at the limp body in his arms, Gigi’s arms lying at her sides without motion.
Everything suddenly feels bitterly cold.
Torn between whether to race to her side or take my steps carefully, I fucking freeze.
“She’s got a pulse,” Andy assures me.
As if that’s the motivation I need to save her life, I rush over to him and tug her into my arms. Pressing my ear against her chest, I force myself to listen to the little heartbeat that pads softly. My throat is swollen as I stutter, “H-hey, Gigi. Keep your eyes open for me. Come on. We’re almost there.” Calling to no one in particular, I shout. “How much longer?”
There’s mumbling from the other end of the van until someone responds, “Forty minutes out.”
Looking down at her frail body, my voice cracks as I whisper, “I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t leave me.”