Page 25 of Factory Thief

There’s an ashen fire pit but no matches. Can’t win them all. We have no way to build a fire. It’s a shame. The storm whips cold air into the cave. We won’t drown, but we’re soaking wet and so cold.

I look over at Victoria, her clothing plastered to her sweet body like a second skin by the damp. She shivers, hugging herself and rubbing her hands along her upper arms.

Since the cave proves to be too shallow and too wide for much wind protection, I’m afraid it’s going to get worst tonight. Should I ask her if she wants to huddle together for warmth? Of course I am. If it’s in the name of survival, I kind of have to. Feeling her up against me is just an added bonus…

“Are you cold?”

“Freezing.”

“We should huddle together for warmth. Standard survival technique.”

“Okay.” Wow. She didn’t argue. She really must be at the end of her rope. She scoots over next to me, and I put an arm around her. We shiver together as the wind howls into the cave.

It’s hard to think with her body pressed up beside mine. While I can feel muscle on her athletic physique, Victoria also possesses sweet feminine curves. I feel a firm twitch in my crotch. Even in this freezing sea cave I want her.

I force such thoughts down.

To kill my wild fantasies, I remind myself I still don’t know if I can trust her.

It’s tough, though. I haven’t been with a woman in so long.

Also, now that I’m out, I’ve got a job to do—and it’s got nothing to do with sleeping with Victoria.

VICTORIA

Shivering in Jack’s one-armed embrace, I yearn to nestle into him. It’s an instinct, no conscious thoughts driving it at all.

I can’t help but be acutely aware of his masculine presence. When he had stopped breathing on the beach earlier, I’d felt a wave of despair unwarranted for our short association.

Looking back, I can’t remember when it happened, but, at some point, I stopped thinking of him as the Grandmother Killer. He became the Wrongfully Accused you hear so much about yet so rarely meet.

I don’t know why, but I just don’t think he’s a killer. Jack seems to genuinely want to do the right thing. He could have begged for me to let him go, begged for me not to turn him over to the Factory. Begged for his life.

Instead, his top priority was seeing to it that the Xtera corporation’s sinister machinations were exposed. He cared more about stopping Xtera from hurting more people than his own life. Unless he’s playing some kind of Keyzer Söze long-game mind fuck on me—which I highly doubt—Jack is one of the good ones.

I can’t help but feel tainted, sitting next to him. Unlike Jack, I’m not the Wrongfully Accused. I’m the Guilty as Hell. I’ve stolen a lot of things from a lot of people. Some of the time I even enjoyed it, and not just in a task-completion sort of way.

Sure, I love making the plan and then executing it. I like the thought I am good at my job. That doesn’t change the fact that I got a thrill off the thievery itself.

It makes me feel smart. Superior, like I get one over on all of humanity when I steal. Andrew once asked me what I thought the smartest animal in the world was. I said the dolphin, and he laughed.

“You’re wrong. The smartest animal in the world ain’t the dolphin. It’s the rat.”

“The rat? Come on, Andrew—”

“No, think about it. The rat didn’t help you build your house, but he lives in it. The rat didn’t help you earn your daily bread, but he eats it. The rat waits for you to do the work and reaps the fruits of your labor. Be a rat, Tori. Be a rat.”

I shake off the memory. Right now, I’m a drowned rat. A freezing rat. It has to be even worse for Jack. He’s acting as a buffer between me and the wind.

“Sure wish someone with a boat would stop by now.”

Jack chuckles. He peers out the cave exit and shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone would risk those breakers. The wind’s really whipping up. Good surfing weather.”

“You surf?”

“Hell no,” he says with a laugh, his ribcage rumbling against me. “I tried once, and, between almost getting assaulted for ‘stealing’ someone’s wave and nearly drowning, I decided it wasn’t for me.”

I laugh softly. Who would want this man dead? This goofy but hunky boy next door? Jack isn’t the type of guy who stabs an old lady. He’s the type of guy who helps her carry in her groceries and changes her light bulbs.

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