JAX
“Is this everything?”
“Yep,” Zola confirmed, passing me the flash drive. “Four hundred and sixteen hours of pure snuff. I hope you know I’m going on a spa retreat when we get back.”
A spa retreat or a bottle of Jack and a two-day power nap? I knew which one I’d prefer. “We bounce in five.”
“Finally.” Zola looked relieved as she gathered up her remaining tech. Then she paused, her fingers idling on the zippers. “What are you going to do about Nate?”
Right. That big idiot. I rubbed my eyes tiredly. “We could roast him over a fire?”
Zola grinned wickedly. The tension lingered, but her eyes brightened. “That would smell too bad. And attract too many predators. We could blindfold him and push him over a cliff?”
I smirked. “I’m not wasting the blindfold.”
That made her laugh. Something in my chest loosened at the sound. We were a bunch of miserable assholes and needed to find our happiness somewhere.
Like pretty girls with big gray eyes and pouty lips.
My cock stirred, remembering all too well the sounds she made, the warmth of her tongue, the way she tasted. I knew it was only a one-time deal, but shit. I was ready to sell my soul to keep her.
“Seriously, though,” Zola said, sobering up. “He’s been acting weird for a while. Ever since we got this job.” She shouldered her pack aggressively. “He needs rehab.”
“The Compound has a basement.”
“We can’t just lock him in the basement and throw him protein bars for a month.”
I rolled my eyes. “God forbid he doesn’t have his ten-step skincare routine.”
She laughed again, a bit rustier than before. “I don’t think your unique brand of tough love will cut it this time, Jax. He needs a proper facility. Actual therapy.”
“With goats,” I mused.
Zola gave me a weird look, which flattened in distaste. “You’ve been spending too much time with little miss pom poms.”
Little miss pom poms. I liked that. Uploaded it straight to my spank bank.
The others, minus little miss pom poms, were waiting for us in the foyer. Nate was slumped against the wall, crashing out. Callum was hovering, and Ryle was bouncing around him like a hopped-up jackrabbit.
I stopped. “Where’s—”
Madoc appeared in front of me like a fucking apparition. I jumped about a foot and went warm in weird places. “Jesus. We need to get you a bell.”
The look Madoc gave me was different from his usual ones. Something lurked beneath the mask, an unwanted curiosity. Green eyes lingered on my throat, and I reached up without thinking and gave it a scratch.
Had Olivia left marks on me?
Fuck, I should’ve marked her. The idea of her wearing my bruises while she returned to her perfect life was euphoric.
“Need something?” I asked him. My voice broke like a goddamn tween.
Madoc’s mouth twitched. “Never.”
“Good. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“All knowing and shit.”
Madoc hummed. There was a devious twinkle in his eye that usually meant one of us was about to get a pinecone to the head.
Had Madoc seen us?
It wouldn’t be too shocking, I suppose. He saw way too much. He’d definitely seen me in more compromised positions, so I had no idea why my face was burning up like a bashful bride. I jabbed his shoulder, and he responded with a quick undercut to my gut.
“Oof.” I bent over, relieved more than anything.
Pain was good. Pain was our love language.
Then Ryle bounced over with his dimples and hyper grin and said, “Aw, you two made up.”
I frowned at him as Madoc shifted. I had deluded myself into thinking the rest of the crew hadn’t picked up on the tension between us. Ever since that stupid night, those words I blurted out, the way I’d leaned in, heart in my mouth, only for him to withdraw completely.
“No. Not like this.”
His words still haunted me. The flat rejection of them, like he’d been waiting for me to screw up for a long time.
My anger returned, sharp and unrestrained. “Don’t,” I warned Ryle.
The stupid kid only grinned wider. “But I’ve missed Jadoc.”
An aneurysm burst behind my right eye. Madoc went still.
“What,” I growled, “the fuck did you just call us?”
Ryle stopped bouncing, sensing he’d swam into infested waters. “Um…nothing.”
“Did you give us a couple name?”
“No,” Ryle scoffed. He shuffled back, hiding behind a bemused Callum. “No way. Nah huh. Never shipped you. Never will.”
There were about to be two bodies hidden in this house.
Before I could pummel him to death, Nate made a startled noise and jolted, as if a hot poker had stabbed him. He shuffled forward and fished out Kane’s cellphone. His glassy eyes widened. “Ah, shit.”
What now?
“We might have to jump to the third act,” he said, rising unsteadily to his feet. “Kane is expecting a delivery. ETA thirty minutes.”
Callum frowned. “A delivery of what?”
Nate winced. “Well, I doubt it’s a family-sized pepperoni.”
“It’s another shipment.” My voice dropped, my gut sinking. More girls.
Part of me knew it’d been too good to be true. A clean death, a quick getaway. A hundred million dollars strapped to our backs.
A newfound urgency rippled through me. Olivia.
Madoc moved before I could. “I’ll get her.”
“She’s probably still—”
“I know,” Madoc said without turning back.
He knew.
Because he’d seen us.
There was no time for shame, or whatever confusing emotion wanted to tangle me up. The flash drive burned a hole in my pocket. The ghosts of the girls filled the room, demanding vengeance, urging us to act.
A hand settled firmly on my shoulder. Callum, the anchor I always relied on when I started to drift. “We’ll do whatever you decide,” he said.
He was giving me a choice. I looked at each of them, finding only acceptance. I could walk away, and they would follow. We could start fresh. Take our money, return to the Compound, drink until we forget.
Nobody expected us to be heroes. We weren’t the good guys who swooped in and saved the day. We were thieves. Thugs. Whatever morals we had were loose at best.
I made the heinous mistake of catching Ryle’s eye. He’d stopped smiling.
I groaned. “Jesus. Don’t do that to me.”
Ryle blinked. Then pouted. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Menace.” I stepped forward and locked my arm around him in a chokehold. His laugh filled the space, chasing the ghosts away.
“We’re not running,” Callum deduced, looking pleased.
“No.”
“We’re saving those girls.”
“Yeah.”
“Beauty,” Callum said, rubbing his hands together greedily. The others stood taller.
Zola looked downright menacing. “Does this mean we can break out the real tech?”
“And the guns,” Callum said, fist bumping Ryle.
Nate was uncharacteristically silent in the wake of promised destruction.
Ryle lunged toward the stairs. “I’ll go tell Madoc.”
“Careful,” I said pointlessly.
There was no room for careful.
Not when we were about to pull off the toughest job of our lives.