Page 159 of The Forbidden Note

Dutch narrows his eyes at them. “We don’t have time for this. Zane, you help Sol. Finn can take the rear exit alone. Cadey and I will use the elevator. Rick can go with Grey through the front.”

“The front is too dangerous.” Zane stands off with his brother.

“It’s the least dangerous. No one will expect a thief to use the front entrance. Plus Rick will help throw suspicion off.”

“The plan is fine. Let’s move.” I motion to the stairs. There’s no time to argue.

Zane leans close to me.

My chest gets tight.

“Be careful, tiger,” he whispers.

I wish I didn’t feel anything but, when Zane brushes his fingers against my cheek, I feeleverything.

Turning away without a word, I follow Rick. The music from the dance helps to absorb our steps, but it still feels like we’re on the edge of discovery.

He points his flashlight in front of us. “Since we’re using the front, we can go a little slower. Moving with urgency draws more attention.”

“Okay.” I blow out a breath.

His long legged stride throws a shadow on the floor.

I glance up at him. “How come I didn’t see you at the funeral?”

“Not really a fan.”

“Of funerals?”

“Of my mother.”

“Ah.”

“Honestly, it’s a relief that she’s finally dead.”

I cringe. That’s harsh.

He sees my expression and explains, “She tossed me when I was a baby and then came back years later, asking me to steal money from my foster mom so she could buy drugs. That woman was never much of a mother when she was alive, so I won’t treat her like one in death.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need.” He shakes his head. “Her death taught me one thing. Life is short. I want to be a better brother to Cadey and Viola. I want to be a better boyfriend. You just never know when it’s your last time to say ‘I love you’ to someone.”

I think of mom. The last time I saw her, I snapped at her. She hasn’t reached out since then.

I should text her tonight…

Up ahead, a shadow skitters by.

I yelp and nearly turn over the trolley.

Rick chuckles. “Relax. It’s just a cat on the tree outside.”

“Oh.” Sheepishly, I lick my lips.

“You’re nervous,” he observes.

“I’m not much of a risk-taker.”

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