Chapter 9
Chapter Nine: Delaney
Ryder kisses me under the bright moonlight, and I swear, it’s even better than last time. He tastes like mint and smells like citrus.
I move my hands around his broad shoulders and up, lightly scratching my nails along the back of his neck. His thick, wavy hair is still a little damp as I slide my fingers through it, and an image of him in the shower flits through my head— dripping wet and gloriously naked.
It’s a visual I’ll never forget, and my core throbs.
No. Dammit!
I jerk away so fast, I stumble over my own feet. When he tries to catch me, I step sideways, away from his grasp. “We can’t,” I rasp. Dammit, I can’t believe I kissed him again. This is becoming a serious problem. But the biggest issue of all? I like it way too much.
And he’s making me want more than kisses. Grrrr. So inconvenient.
“Delaney,” he whispers, and my heart tightens at the soft way he says my name. “That’s such a pretty name. Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with it.”
I huff out a sigh and spin away. Why does he have to be so nice? Why can’t he be a prick like most other men I encounter?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I grind my palms against my lids. I hate feeling off-kilter. Vulnerable. It’s a dangerous place for any woman to be, let alone a woman who immerses herself in risky situations with so many hazards and precarious outcomes.
Sucking in a deep breath, I square my shoulders and shove my emotions down. “I need you to keep your distance,” I tell him, my voice firm and brooking no argument.
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “If that’s what you want,” he finally murmurs.
“It is.” Okay, it’s settled. No more kissing. A part of me is sorely disappointed, but that part of me is obviously stupid and should have no say in any decision I make regarding Ryder McKay. “Good night.”
Before he can respond, I march back to the cottage and return to my bed. Alone.
It’s for the best, I tell myself for the thousandth time.
But then why does it make me so sad?
The moment morning dawns, I’m up and making tea.
Sleep eluded me, and when I finally drifted off, my dreams were sexy and hot.
They mostly involved Ryder—naked—and kissing me.
At one point, I was naked, too, and his name took on a whole new meaning.
Ride-her. Because, yeah, that’s exactly what he did.
“Good morning.”
I glance over my shoulder to see the object of my fantasies amble over, looking adorably sleep-rumpled and cozy in a T-shirt and loose-fitting pajama bottoms. He slides a hand through his messy waves and sends me a crooked grin that makes my stomach somersault.
“Got any coffee for me?” His voice sounds low and rumbly, and I try to ignore the way its deep vibration seems to pulse through me, an arrow homing straight in on my very lonely muff. God almighty, the man gives me fanny flutters like I’ve never experienced before.
“No, but I have tea.” I add some milk and sugar until it’s the perfect shade.
“Tea?” He chuckles, reaching around me to turn on the coffee machine. His citrus amber scent engulfs me, and I bite down on my lip. “You’re adorably cute and oh-so-British, my little crumpet. But this American needs his strong, black coffee.”
“So uncivilized,” I tease, elbowing him in the side and moving away.
I wasn’t sure if things would be awkward between us after I ran away last night, determined to forget and deny our kiss. But we seem to have fallen back into the teasing banter I’ve come to enjoy, and it makes me happy. I genuinely like Ryder. As a person, a friend… and then some.
I blow lightly on my steaming tea and take a cautious sip, mindful of Ryder watching me closely. “Can I help you?” I ask, shifting beneath his scrutiny.
He arches a thick brow and smirks. “No doubt about it, but I don’t think you’re ready to go there quite yet.”
My cheeks flush and I choke on my tea. All of those instances of thievery, risking life and limb to collect the perfect antiquity, and my life is going to end with a cup of Earl Grey.
He pats my back, chuckling. “Sorry. But you set that up so perfectly, I couldn’t resist.”
Clearing my throat, I try not to die of humiliation at the twinkle in his dark eyes.
Sex has never overly appealed to me. Probably because my only two partners left me wanting, and more than a little disappointed.
But Ryder makes me want to try again. With him.
And it’s not just his words. Words are cheap.
He exudes confident sensuality. And that competence is so very sexy.
My attention drops to his large hands grabbing a mug from the cupboard.
I lick my lips, imagining what it would feel like to have those competent hands exploring my body.
Swallowing hard before I accidentally drool, I sit down at the small table with two wooden chairs, putting some distance between us.
Longing fills me. But yearning for him clouds my vision, and right now I need it to be crystal clear. Mistakes are rarely forgiven in my line of work.
Once he has his coffee, he sits down across from me.
“Ready to get down to business?” He glances at the big platinum watch on his wrist. I’ve noticed it on more than one occasion, and I didn’t miss the diamond numerals.
It’s a luxury brand, worth quite a bit. If I were at a party, choosing marks, he’d be on my list. “We need to go over the plan until we’re comfortable. ”
I nod, glad he’s a planner like me. “Did you get the diving gear?”
“It’ll be delivered this afternoon.”
“Good.” I mentally run through everything and realize we’re in a very good place. All seems to be in order. “Then let’s go over it. From beginning to end. I don’t want to miss one detail.”
Because this is my final heist. The one that means the most.
There’s no room for error.
It’s just after midnight when Ryder and I pull on our wetsuits behind the huge evergreen tree near the moat.
He already hacked in and looped the security cameras.
A lone guard circles the castle’s exterior throughout the night, and we wait patiently for him to appear again. Once he passes, it’s go-time.
Crouching down beside him, I try not to think about how the wetsuit clings to Ryder’s body.
We’re both wearing biking shorts and a tank top beneath, and I got a nice look at his arm muscles before he zipped up.
An image of my nails digging into that firm flesh as I arch beneath him flashes through my head before I give it a good, solid shake.
Blocking out every sexual thought, I go over my mental list, making sure we’ve taken everything into account.
And we have, because, just as I suspected, we make a bloody brilliant team.
After we find the Phantom Orchid, I ride off into the sunset, and there’s no one I’d rather pull off my last heist with than Ryder McKay.
He’s so damn smart, aware of every little detail and possible pitfall.
And he listens to me without trying to take over. He’s also damn easy on the eyes.
“Any second now,” he murmurs under his breath as we wait for the guard to appear.
Like clockwork, the lone security guard strolls around the corner and walks along the edge of the stone wall. He’s glued to his phone, scrolling, and paying zero attention to anything happening around him. What a boring job. I wouldn’t last a night.
Once he disappears around the next corner, I straighten up. Ryder pulls the waterproof backpack over his shoulders, and I set the timer on my wristwatch so we know when to expect the guard again. Excitement lights me up, and I glance over at my partner in crime. “Ready?” I ask.
“Let’s do this, my little English muffin.” He sends me a crooked grin—the one that makes my insides dizzy.
“Would you stop with the silly nicknames?” I huff out in exasperation, pretending to be annoyed. But the truth is, I like it. I like all his playful banter and teasing names far too much. “C’mon.”
Ryder falls into step beside me, and we move fast, with purpose, hustling to the edge of the moat.
The water looks so much darker and more foreboding than it did yesterday morning, but I try not to dwell on it.
There’s nothing to be scared of—no sharks or alligators or snakes.
But I do a quick sweep for swans and geese because those little beasties can be downright mean.
Pulling my goggles into place, I flip on my small headlamp and draw in several deep lungfuls of air, breathing out through my mouth. Just relax. I love the water, and I can hold my breath for a long time. This should be cake.
“You’ve got this,” he says in a low voice full of confidence.
I nod, then I suck in the deepest possible breath and dive down into the blackness. While Ryder stays at the surface to keep watch for anything out of the ordinary, my job is to locate the grate.
The light from my headlamp cuts through the dark water, and I swim straight down and toward the stone wall.
Propelling myself forward, I reach the castle wall and then continue down, down, down.
I need to locate the opening depicted on the map.
It’ll be sealed off, most likely with some kind of grating or iron mesh.
Various sources claim the moat reaches thirty feet deep, but if all goes according to expectations, the opening is near the ten feet mark. Here’s hoping expectation equals reality in this case.
Bingo! My light illuminates a grate. Reaching for the torch hooked to the carabiner at my waist, I point it toward the surface and flick the switch on and off to signal Ryder.
It doesn’t take him long to reach me. I give him a thumbs-up and head back to the surface while he takes over with a pair of wire clippers.
My head breaks free and I pull in deep breaths, waiting for him to finish cutting the wire.
The night is quiet, and there are no signs of the guard or any unexpected visitors.
Ryder surfaces beside me a minute or so later. “Got it.”