Epilogue
Clara
One Year Later
It’s funny how you can get used to things that once seemed impossibly difficult. Take waltzing, or blending in with socialites, or worst of all, the bickering of your partners in your ear while you’re trying to do a clean lift. It’s a good thing I love them all so much.
I turn away from my mark with a flirtatious smile that means nothing, then pull out my phone and press it to my ear as I weave through the glittering ballroom. “You guys, if you’ve finished taking bets on how fast we can get out of here, you’ll see that I’ve got the access card. Jansen?”
“Of course, beautiful. I’ll meet you by the doors on the balcony.”
“I still don’t like that you’re not here as my date,” Trips complains.
Catching his eye across the room, I take in his linen suit and light blue dress shirt, his lazy grin oozing leisurely dilettante.
The European summer is doing something for the man, that’s for sure.
I flash him the homemade finger sign Jansen came up with to let him know he’s looking hot, and his casual slouch shifts to barely contained beast, his eyes tracing over the excessive amount of skin I’m showing.
This is technically a beach party, so I figured showing some skin would fit the job.
Based on the number of women with bikini strings visible, I made the right choice, but that doesn’t mean I’m half-naked.
I chose a midnight blue coverup that goes down to my ankles.
It also has slits up to my hips and is mostly see-through.
It made tonight’s lift child’s play.
Jasmine gives me a subtle salute with her champagne from nearby Trips, not on the comms, but here to watch us work. “You know this was the best way to do this,” I say, pointing out the obvious to Trips.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like it,” he gripes, his eyes still blazing.
On the back balcony, I saunter to the corner, gazing over Lake Como at dusk like it’s a sight worth taking in, even as I keep most of my attention on the people around me.
The view is gorgeous. A girl could get used to these international jobs.
As it turns out, my vigilance is useless. There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I jump as I spin, finding Jansen smirking at me in the half-light. He pins me to the dark exterior of this mansion, his lips warm against mine.
“Trouble, you’re going to ruin my cover,” I whisper.
“Who cares? I’ve wanted to taste you all night.”
I snag his chin, forcing him to look at me. “Are you looking for a punishment?”
“They’re always fun-ishments with you.”
I laugh, handing him the key card. “Go get this done, and we’ll celebrate back at the villa.”
His eyes glint with the urge to disobey, but with one last peck, he disappears into the dark.
“I hope this will work. I haven’t done a lot of forging on the fly,” Walker says, his voice somewhere between joking and not.
“It’s just a signature. You made a fake Gem Black in the back of the van using RJ’s shirt and some paint from a Walgreens. This is a walk in the park for you,” I say.
He chuckles. “At least I didn’t have to clamber across a roof that time. But you’re right. This should be easier.”
RJ cuts into our banter. “Incoming, Clara.”
I plop a hazy grin on my face as the brother of my mark saunters into view. We knew he could be trouble. It looks like we were right.
“Trips?” RJ’s concern echoes in my ear.
“On it,” he replies.
The man steps close, caging me in against the railing. “A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be all alone out here. Who knows what could happen?”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” I say, wishing I had a glass of champagne to sip leisurely. Next time.
His grin grows dark. “Maybe you should be.”
He leans in to kiss me, and I push him back. “I’m not interested,” I state, giving him a chance to back off before the cavalry makes it to us.
“But I am,” he says, moving to pin me again.
I slip out of his grip, slam him against the wall, then lock his arms, using them for leverage. He kicks back, a growl of frustration snaking from his mouth. “Better hurry,” I say. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
Trips gets there right as the man breaks free, taking a swipe at me. I duck, and Trips comes in with a right hook that knocks him unconscious on the first try. We catch our breaths as he slumps onto the expensive tile, then look at each other.
“Over the balcony?” I ask.
“Yeah. Go get a glass of something strong while I figure out where to toss him.” His kiss is welcome, fire and fight in the way his tongue tangles with mine, the heat of his palm on my hip making me want to linger.
I twist away. “Tease.”
“Likewise.”
RJ tells me what the brother’s favorite liquor is, and I grab a double from the bar, returning to dump it all over the man’s stupidly expensive suit, before grabbing his feet and helping to fling him over the side.
He lands on a manicured bush. He probably didn’t break anything, but he’s going to wake up with one hell of a headache and no idea how he ended up there.
Hopefully, he’ll think he drank too much. If not, well, we’ll be long gone.
“This man’s handwriting is like a second grader,” Walker gripes in my ear.
“His security isn’t much better,” Jansen says.
“His locks might not be top of the line, but you’ve got guards starting their rounds early. Get out of there,” RJ says, his smooth voice keeping my anxiety from spiking. My team knows what to do. They’ll be out of there in time.
Trips gives me one last weighted look, then returns to the ballroom to mingle. But he takes a moment to flash me our sign for later. I swallow my anticipation. We have to finish this gig first.
Staying where I am, I wait for an update. There’s soft cursing from Walker, followed by a slightly unhinged giggle from Jansen, then the silence.
“Guys?” I ask, my phone pressed to my ear again.
RJ’s calm voice answers. “They’re fine, Clara. Just hiding in a linen closet. Both of them. It looked like it was a tight fit.”
Trips’ huffed laughter has my own smile growing. “We all know two can fit. It just takes a little lube,” I tease, bold in a way I never would have imagined before I met these guys.
The muted laughter of my two guys trying to keep quiet mingles with Trips’ chuckle and RJ’s belly laugh, and it’s all I can do to keep my snort from escaping.
By the time Jansen makes it back to the balcony, I know we’re cutting it close. He hands off the card with a tug of one of my curls, but even he knows that now isn’t the time for getting cozy.
“I’m heading in,” I announce, striding back into the ballroom like I’m the owner of this villa and a little past tipsy. It’s the exact right lure for the man of the house. He finds me before I pick him out of the crowd, his grin only slightly less oily than his brother’s.
“There’s my little dove,” he says, his hand wrapping around my waist. I giggle and slide my hand under his blazer, barely slipping the card into his breast pocket before he tilts my chin up to meet his gaze.
“Clara—“ Trips’ frustrated growl warns.
Spinning, I dance out of the man’s grasp. I lean forward, like I’m going to whisper, then announce with way too much volume, “I’ve got to pee.”
I skitter away before my mark can answer, vanishing into the crowd as my guys chuckle in my ear.
Trips reaches the door a moment before me, calling for his car at the valet. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch first Jansen, then Walker, clamber down the side of the house, disappearing the other way, the document leaving with them.
I’m grinning by the time I give the valet my claim ticket, Trips roaring away in his sleek gray sports car. A minute later, I’m on the road too, gunning it so I can catch up to him on my deep purple Ducati.
It might be a rental, but I’m putting in a request for a bike at home, too. This thing is too much fun.
A few blocks later, two more bikes and the van join us, and we race back to our rental villa, mission accomplished. The wind on my face and the rumble of the engine between my legs, coupled with the high of a successful heist, has me buzzing.
No cops, no guns, no danger, just a clean in and out deal. Jansen zooms up on one side of me, swerving a bit in play, while Walker drops behind the van, just in case. Trips’ sports car adds to the cacophony, playing right into my adrenaline high.
“You look hot on that thing in a see-through dress,” Jansen says through our earpieces.
“Agreed,” RJ states, his voice a little ragged.
“I plan on getting you out of that dress as soon as we’re back,” Walker states.
Trips manually shifts, the purr of the engine as he races us back comment enough.
By the time we make it up the mountain to our villa, I’m burning with delayed desire.
These men—a few words, and I’m ready for anything, practically salivating in anticipation.
Trips parks and marches into the villa with a weighty backwards glance, Walker and Jansen soon following.
But I stay where I am, straddling thirty grand worth of machine, waiting for RJ to finish putting our temporary surveillance van to bed for the night.
When he comes out, I grab him, pulling him onto the seat with me.
“What’s this, Sugar?”
“This is the back of the bike make-out session you owe me.”
A grin creases his face, his closely trimmed beard and still growing hair no longer jarring after a year of getting used to them. “You’re right. This is a debt I shouldn’t leave outstanding,” he says, leaning in, hovering his lips in front of mine.
I close the distance, tugging him closer until we’re chest to chest, the handlebars supporting my back as I wrap my legs around him, unbothered when my skirt slips all the way down my legs, pooling in my lap.