Page 5 of Nest of Thieves
I rip my throwing knife from the bank manager’s leg. He screams.
Jackie blinks and watches the blood gush out of his thigh. Dare I say, she’s intrigued? Or is that the romantic in me?
“Come along, Jackie.” I clean my blade on the guy’s pants and stand, strutting past her and heading into the lobby.
Her soft breaths and quiet steps trail after me. Jackie smells faintly of cake, and I’m growing more ravenous by the second.
Vette would kill you.The sliver of rational thought left in my mind is a pest, but Vette would be mad if I made a pit stop to sample tasty little Jackie in the bathroom. My cock strains against my pants, and I stick my hands into my pockets, whistling as we round the corner and step into the lobby.
The other tellers are all on the ground, and Vette and Lark are waiting for me near the counter, each with a bag full of money and impatience coloring their auras. Lark with his tapping foot and frowning eyes. Vette with a glare and a crack of his knuckles. They both notice Jackie at the same time. I fight the insane urge to pull her into my side and lick her cheek.
She’s not an omega.
She probably couldn’t even handle me. She’s too soft. Well, she did carry the bag of money to the front without breaking a sweat. Maybe Jackie does Pilates.
“What took you so long?” Vette asks.
“There was a complication.” I flip my knife into the air and catch it at the hilt. “He’s taken care of.”
Just then a bright red light flashes through the lobby, blinking on and off.
“Pendejo,” Vette mutters. “Cabrón, tenías un trabajo.”Dumbass, you had one job.
Rather rude of him to call me names.
“No spreken ze Deutsch.” I slip my knife into the sheath on my belt.
Vette’s eyes narrow. “Estúpido.”
“Aw, yo también te amo.”Aw, I love you too. I clutch my chest and widen my eyes.
Lark clears his throat. “That was the panic button.”
“We know,” Vette and I snap at him at the same time.
“So, what? Do you guys want to sit here and argue or escape? Either way, I’m leaving.” Lark adjusts his grip on his duffel and spins on his heel, jogging toward the door.
The tellers peek over the desk; one of them is on her phone, whispering to whoever she called to help.
Sighing, I grab Jackie’s arm and pull her against me, pressing the knife tip to her throat. “Nobody try to be a hero.”
A few of the women gasp and whimper. Predictable little birds. No one wants to see dear Jackie hurt. Jackie breathes in, and I cock my head. Did she sniff me? That’s crazy, right?
Either way, Jackie is coming with us until we know for sure we got away. Our car is unmarked, but that doesn’t mean the cops won’t be on the look out for it. Jackie is a necessity. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Vette shakes his head and runs after Lark. “Get in the car, cabrón.”
“I think he loves me,” I whisper to Jackie, grabbing her wrist and putting away my knife. I turn us and start to jog, tightening my grip on her arm. She’s in heels, and if she goes down, I go down. “Time to run, cupcake.”
I swear she growls, but when I glance at her, she’s breathing heavily, like she’s on the verge of a panic attack.
Too bad. She’s cute, but she’s too damn soft.
Vette and Lark are in the blacked-out SUV that’s idling at the curb. I gesture for Jackie to toss her duffel with the others in the back. She carefully sets it inside and shoots me a hopeful look. She thinks we’ll let her go now. I usher her inside the SUV, holding the door because I’m a gentleman. I climb in after her, and she slides all the way over to the other side. Vette locks the doors, but she doesn’t try to escape like I thought she might.
Vette peels out of the parking lot, the vehicle swinging perilously to the side when he takes a corner too fast. Lark hisses and grabs the dash.
“Pussy.” Vette scoffs and turns onto a busy street, weaving in and out of traffic like a madman.
