Chapter 16
Maya
I drop the pan on the side counter, narrowly missing Bella’s head in the darkened kitchen.
Soren curses. “This is what I feared.”
The lights come back on, and I look at him with an amused smile. “The dark?”
“No.” He shakes his head, his eyes and movements agitated. “You know that thing I told you someone wanted?”
I glance at Bella to see if she’s following, but she’s trying to scoop a scalding cookie off the sheet. I grab the spatula from her and dig into the lump of cookies, carving a chunk onto a plate for her. “Yeah?”
“It’s a hot commodity.”
I blink at him.
“Tanner says I’m a hot commodity,” Bella says, scooping up mushy cookie with her finger and licking it off.
Soren lets out a frustrated breath. “More people want that thing.”
The painting. More people… as in more thieves.
The lights go out again, and this time they don’t come back on. We have power outages all the time. This could be anything.
An ominous feeling settles over the room, like the darkening clouds before a storm.
The melty cookie falls off my spatula, and I drop the kitchen tool, unconcerned where it may land.
Arms snake around my waist, lifting me off the ground, but before I can scream, a hand comes over my mouth.
“You’re going to hide under the counter with Arabella.” Soren’s voice in my ear both calms and frightens me.
My eyes barely adjust in time to miss ramming my head into the side cabinet and into Arabella, who is already there.
His reaction time is much quicker than mine.
But what is he going to do?
My pulse quickens. What am I supposed to do?
“This is so exciting; it’s like a real-life scary movie,” Arabella whispers next to me.
I need to protect her. And right now, that means pretending we are in one of her favorite movies.
“Which means we need to be quiet,” I whisper back.
She shakes her head, her blonde pigtails whipping back and forth. “Have you never seen a scary movie? They always talk.”
She’s got a point. “Yes, but—”
“Shh,” Soren growls, and Arabella clamps her lips shut, but it does nothing to tame the excitement in her eyes.
I’ve watched that trouble brew in her eyes long enough to know it’s not going away.
“Don’t do it,” I warn her.
But a grin grows on her face, and a device emerges in her hand like magic.
The screen lights up just as an eerie scratching sound comes from the front door. I throw my body at the phone—excessive, but effective. I grab the device and shove it down my bra in one swift move.
“Ew! I can’t believe you put it there,” Bella’s face puckers like she’s about to puke.
“Desperate times, Bella. These are desperate times.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“Me?”
“Girls,” Soren snaps.
Right, the whole danger thing.
Speaking of… why isn’t he doing anything? The scratching sound comes again, and I wait for an army of gun-wielding men to burst through the door and find us. But nothing is happening.
The handle jiggles, and Soren rushes to the door, pressing his body against it and ensuring the deadbolt is latched.
If I could see who’s out there… wait. I can.
I crawl out from under the counter.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Soren whispers.
There’s a painting just off the main door, and I tip it up. I motion to the hidden monitor and flick it to life, accessing the door feed.
It’s still working, despite the power outage, but it looks different. The words, Live Transmission Off, flash across the top half of the screen. What does that mean?
Below the words is a man dressed nearly identically to how I found Soren earlier tonight playing with the doorknob. I can’t see his face with his beanie pulled low; only tufts of blond hair are visible at the sideburns, and he’s trying to pick the lock.
Soren was right. We’re in danger.
“Do you know this person?” Soren asks.
I shake my head, my chin giving away the slightest quiver in admittance of my fear.
Soren pushes in front of me, playing with the security system.
“What are you doing? That thing is super high-tech; I lock myself out all the time.”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “And yet they pay you to keep track of their daughter?”
I muster my best scowl, but he doesn’t see it.
As I watch the screen, the alarm in the hallway blares. The man turns, keeping his face covered as he sprints to the elevator.
“You just alerted the police!” I smack Soren’s shoulder.
“Haven’t you been trying to do that all night?”
I bite the inside of my cheek and find a very interesting spot on the floor to examine. “I’m not supposed to call them anymore.”
He puts a finger under my chin, lifting my face to meet his. “Explain.”
“Bella is really good at hide-and-seek!” He rolls his lips, fighting a smile, and I smack his hand away. “I’ll get fired if I call them again and it’s not a real emergency.” Though I do believe most of this night could qualify.
“Relax. I disabled that feature.”
He’s had it disabled the whole time. That’s why it’s not transmitting.
“I’m here to steal something,” he whispers. “I’m not going to call the police. Give me some credit.”
I take a step back. Right, bad guy. Can’t forget that exclusive-to-him definition. I can’t believe I almost kissed him! I will not be making that mistake again. This is his life. Danger and crime. Why, oh why, are women putty in the hands of an attractive bad boy?
I should call the police. I need to.
“He’ll be back,” Soren says.
I rub my head where it’s starting to throb. “Please tell me you’re attempting to quote Arnold Schwarzenegger?”
“I’m serious,” Soren says. “You guys should get out of here. Surely the Hartwells own places all over the city.”
If they do, I’m not privy to that information. Wait…
I see what he’s doing. He’s trying to get rid of us so he can make off with the painting. The thieving, horrible man. Was this his escape plan all along? Or did he come up with this scheme while we were innocently baking cookies? “Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?” I ground out the words.
You think you know someone… and then you realize they are still a thief.
“Yes. I’d like you to be safe.” His words are clipped, a muscle in his jaw flexing.
“So why don’t you call the police? Maybe that was a delivery man. How am I to know? Bella orders things all the time.”
“It’s midnight on Christmas Eve,” he says, deadpan.
That is a little suspicious, I’ll admit.
“So, what do we do?”
“We set a trap!” Bella interrupts.
I forgot she was here. What has she heard?
Soren shrugs, as if the idea has merit. But I’m not about to let her get caught in the middle of this mess. As far as she knows, this is like one of her movies. Not real.
“Ta-da!” I yell as I grab Soren’s hand and lift it high above our heads. “End scene.” I yank him down, making him bow with me.
I catch Soren’s eye as we hang upside down at our waists. The look on his face clearly says are you insane? I cut our bow short and stand, pretending to be exhausted from the show.
“That was… a performance?” Bella asks, her chin tilting to the side in suspicion.
“This whole night has been,” I say brightly. “Yep, this guy right here is actually my brother.”
Soren coughs.
That might have been too far.
Bella looks between the two of us. “You guys look nothing alike.”
“I got the good genes,” I say.
“I saw you almost kiss.”
I lift a shoulder. “Weird family.”
Soren coughs again, and I slap his back to help him out.
“I don’t believe you, but I’m loving it. Keep it going. This is the best Christmas ever.” Bella turns and skips into the family room, grabbing onto the monkey bars and hanging upside down.
The silence is uncomfortable. Until Soren laughs. “That was the best you could come up with?”
I march to the kitchen, grab the first thing I see, and chuck it at him. The soft thump of the hot pad against his chest is far from cathartic. “Sorry, I don’t lie for a living like you.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t make nearly as much as I do.”
I pause, pursing my lips. “How much do you make?”
He shrugs, but there’s a confident satisfaction in his expression. Meaning it’s a lot.
I may have to consider a career change. My life is in the toilet anyway, but jail is a hard pass.
“Can we watch Five Nights at Freddy’s?” Bella pops up beside me, and I startle.
“No. I hate that movie.” I shake my head. “And it’s way past your bedtime.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you hate blood. How about Jaws?” Her body bounces as she talks, and it would be adorable if she weren’t insisting on horror films before bed.
Because that option is far less gruesome.
“It’s past bedtime,” I say.
“But…” She pouts out her bottom lip; it even quivers. “I already had a nap, and I’m all alone for Christmas…” Her eyes fill, but she’s used this trick on me enough for me to know she won’t let any tears fall.
“I’m here.”
She clasps her hands behind her back, looking down. “I won’t wake up to any presents under the tree. So… I don’t think I want to go to sleep.”
A pang hits my chest. I should set clear boundaries and tell her no—a word she hardly ever hears. But… this is the first genuine expression of sadness I’ve witnessed in her in… ever. And it kills a piece of my soul.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
Her head pops up, and her eyes widen eagerly.
“We can watch Jaws for thirty minutes.” She starts to pout again, and I hold up a hand. “We could go straight to bed instead?”
“Thirty minutes is good,” she says.
“Run upstairs, change your clothes, and brush your teeth.”
She immediately obeys.
“Good job,” Soren says, and I jump, forgetting he was witness to that whole exchange. “Setting boundaries while still being loving.”
He’s not my boss, so his opinion doesn’t matter. But I’ve always been a sucker for the slightest praise.
“And you kept your mouth shut. There may be hope for you yet.”
He chuckles and backs away. “Enjoy that movie.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have a painting to look for.” He ducks to look in the fireplace, as if I’d hide the painting there. The traces of gas could discolor it or worse.
But what if he does find it? And he just… leaves? What if the other thief comes back? Fear grips me, and I race after him as he heads for the conservatory. I’d prefer to take my chances with the enemy I know.
“Do you really think we are in danger?” I ask.
He gently lifts the bottom corner of a painting, peeking behind it. “Unfortunately.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “I’m going to make you a deal.”
He stands up straight, crossing his arms over his chest. “Am I the child now?”
I ignore his comment and take a deep breath. “If you keep us safe until the Hartwells return, I’ll let you take the painting.” That’s justifiable, right? Bella’s safety is far more valuable than a painting. The Hartwells can’t fault me. They definitely will, but at least I’ll feel better about it.
Soren lifts a brow. “Really?”
“I’ll get fired, but as long as Bella is okay…”
He has the decency to appear conflicted. It quickly evaporates. “Okay.”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“I’m pretty sure you already do.”
I’m pretty sure, too.