Chapter 11 #2
Serena didn’t miss the challenge in her tone. “We’re here because you can be trusted.” Peyton’s shoulders relaxed. “I contacted Vivi already, but she wouldn’t say anything pertaining to the job you guys have planned.”
“That explains why she called yesterday. I was helping my parents move all weekend and didn’t get around to phoning her back until today. We’ve been playing phone tag all afternoon.”
“We can’t help but wonder if someone from the inside orchestrated this . . . or snitched to Alfonso.”
Peyton’s face paled.
“And,” Serena continued, “I was attacked Friday night. I stabbed a man and escaped, then found Milo.” Milo’s hand circled her knee. Peyton’s eyes dropped to the movement at Serena’s leg, and a smile played on her mouth before disappearing.
Milo cleared his throat. “Not only that, but someone broke into Dani’s apartment while we were there.”
“Did you find out who he worked for?”
Serena crinkled her lip. “Milo killed him in self-defense.”
A stream of curses mixed with what sounded like a prayer fell from Peyton’s mouth. She rocked back and forth. “What are we going to do?”
“They want us to steal from Titus Phillips.”
She laughed and returned to sit on the love seat. “Oh yeah. Because that’s so simple. Especially on short notice.”
“Actually”—Serena laced her fingers with Milo’s—“Titus is one of my clients. I’ve been inside his house and took drone images last week in preparation to land his deal. I know for certain that he’ll be out of the house tonight.”
The seconds ticked by. Finally, Peyton said, “They knew you were the agent representing him even before he listed his house?”
She nodded. Guilt pulled at her conscience again.
Titus was a dangerous man, but stealing from him kicked her from the pedestal of honor she’d built over the years and down to the gutters she’d so desperately tried to escape.
The fact that Titus was to be the contract that made her career take off made this whole thing that much more bitter.
“They attacked me after I left his house. When I got away, they went after Dani.”
“Does anything jump out at you?” Milo asked Peyton. “Any clue as to who could be behind this?”
Serena’s gaze flickered to the pale scar etched into the shadow of his beard. Once again, her mind drifted to what had caused it. She made a mental note to ask him later.
“No. I can’t think of anything. Let me sit with this, though. I’ll ask around.”
“Be careful,” Milo said, his tone harsh. “Serena got lucky, Priss. Don’t stick your neck out too far or they’ll be after you too.”
Peyton’s eyes sparked at his name choice, then the fire fizzled. “I hope to hell they come after me.” Her hand curled into a sphere, and Serena remembered the spitfire who used to kick all the goody-goody kids’ asses on the playground. “What’s your plan?”
“To get her back. But we need your help.” Milo rubbed his thumb over Serena’s thigh, as if he sensed her dismay.
“Anything.”
Serena squeezed Milo’s hand, assuring him she wasn’t going to fall apart. “Do you trust your team?”
Peyton made a clicking sound. “I don’t know them that well. I’ve worked with Vivi a couple of times, but Wes and Adam are new—to me anyway.”
“But Dani trusted them?”
Peyton shrugged. “She vouched for them both. I took her word.”
Interesting. Serena rolled that information over in her brain. Dani was a little more trusting than she was, but she wasn’t careless.
“What do you say, Priss?” Milo asked. “Are you in to rob Titus tonight?”
Peyton nodded. “I don’t usually do pro-bono work, but for Dani, of course.”
“You don’t have to get involved,” Serena said. “No one would hold it against you.” Peyton deserved a way out, even though Serena knew there was no chance she’d take it.
Peyton curled her lip. “There’s no way I’m going to sit around twiddling my thumbs when Dani is in danger. You bet your ass I’ll be there.”
Serena and Milo stood. Peyton followed suit and yanked Serena into a hug. “She’ll be okay,” Peyton choked out.
“We’ll come back tonight with Brock,” Milo promised, as he tugged Serena’s arm. They stepped into the hallway. The dead bolt clicked and the chain slid with a resounding tinkle.
Seeing Peyton rattled shook away the doubt edging her mind. She strode a pace in front of Milo with renewed determination.
Waiting until tonight would be hell.
“Coffee?” Serena bustled around his kitchen as if she’d been there months and not two days. Before he could answer, she’d set two white mugs on the island.
“Sure.” He dropped onto one of the barstools, taking the opportunity to observe her. She’d tugged the elastic from her hair the second her shoes were off. Wispy strands licked her cheeks and the rest of her locks waved over her shoulders.
Brunette now. So weird.
She scooped sugar into each mug, her eyes downcast and her movements jerky.
The ceramic cups were the only matching pair in the cupboard.
The last two of the set he’d purchased when he bought the house.
One was somewhere in the garage where he’d last been working; the other had broken.
Four other miscellaneous mugs took up the shelf, and yet she’d taken down two matching ones—a couple.
Jesus, was he seriously comparing her choice of mugs to their relationship? As if what they drank out of meant anything.
Fuck it. Fuck all of this. He was losing his mind and it was because of her. Because he couldn’t get her out of his head. Couldn’t chase away the guilt of abandoning her, couldn’t sweep away his attraction or their history any more easily than he could stop staring at her.
He was done fighting.
He got to his feet and rounded the island.
“I’m glad to have Priss with us on this.”
He smirked at the use of her friend’s nickname. It was funny she never called Peyton Priss in front of her, knowing it would annoy her. He rested his hand on the counter and continued studying her while she fixed their coffees. If she was aware of his proximity, she didn’t react.
“Do you want to pour your cream?” She held out the carton, her gaze lifting to his for the first time since they’d gotten back to his house.
“Nah. You make it better.”
Her mouth twitched and her gaze dropped to his scar. She poured a splash into one cup and three times that amount into the other.
She lifted the one with the most cream and sugar and handed it to him. “What happened to your jaw?”
He sipped, and the warm brew rolled over his tongue, ringing his senses to life. He frowned and rubbed his stubble. Was she hinting at the excess hair he was sporting due to lack of shaving over the last day and a half? “What about it?”
She rested her palm where his jaw met his ear, and her thumb brushed over the spot she was referring to.
“Ah, that.” He took another drink and set the cup on the counter.
Taking advantage of the fact that she’d turned to face him, he cradled her hips in his hands.
“I got that at Alban’s. After you left, I got into it with another guard.
He hit the butt of a steel flashlight against my face. Hurt like a bitch and left a scar.”
Her eyes crinkled in sympathy and her thumb stroked it again.
“I’m fine.”
“I know.” Her tongue slid over her teeth then disappeared into her mouth, taunting his to follow.
He clenched his hands tighter around her hips and rocked them back and forth. Christ, she was driving him insane. Everything she did made his cock stretch. If he didn’t get inside her he’d burst.
She squirmed against him. “What are you doing?” Despite the question, her voice came out throaty.
“I lied, Serena.”
“About?”
“I can’t just sleep with you once. There’s too much between us. Too much left to act like just one roll in the sheets is going to cut it.”
Her hand fell from his jaw to his shoulder and coasted over his bicep. He expected her to push away, to shrug off his comment, but she locked her eyes on his.
“I know.”
He dragged a breath into his lungs and stared into the searing embers of her baby blues. He lifted her up, dropping her ass onto the counter. She turned to the steaming mugs and moved them out of harm’s way. Then he caught her hands and held them between her spread legs.
“Do you know what you’re signing up for?” His voice rumbled from deep within his gut. A primitive animal waited to be unleashed with her go-ahead.
She didn’t flinch in his hold, but her chest lifted and fell rapidly. Her head bobbed in understanding.
“What?” He didn’t know why he was wasting time talking, or what he wanted to hear. But something was making him leash the beast in his jeans.
“We’re going to fuck, and it’s not going to mean anything.”
His abdominal wall jerked under the impact of her words. He ran a shaky hand over his face. Lord almighty, she was even making him tremble. The rage of his blood rushed against his veins.
It pissed him off. Not that she’d said it, but that she believed it. He should walk away. Drop whatever the hell hung between them, finish this heist to get back her sister, and return to his life.
Only he couldn’t.
He threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and tipped her head back. “Is that what you want? To fuck?”
She swallowed, and her throat moved against his forearm. Her lips, wet and moist, parted.
“I want you, Milo. On whatever terms you’re capable of.” Ice coated her words. Hurt? Or a challenge? Was that what she wanted? For him to bare his feelings? To rehash years of guilt and pain?
He couldn’t do that. Not when he could barely wrap his head around his emotions himself. An animalistic part of him wanted to strip her and give her exactly what she claimed to want. But part of him couldn’t do that. At least not under these conditions.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Serena.” He danced his thumb from the top of her cheek to the corner of her lips, then over her chin.
“Nothing between us will ever be meaningless. It can’t be.
” He closed his eyes and dipped his head.
“Please don’t ask me what the hell that means right now. All I know is it’s true.”