Page 6 of Nest of Thieves
Little Jackie’s nails dig into her exposed thighs, the short skirt she’s wearing riding high enough to entice me into taking a chunk of her flesh between my teeth. Tempting little morsel. I tear my gaze from her and stare out the back window, watching as two police cars cut through traffic to get to the bank.
“Suckers,” I call over my shoulder.
Vette laughs under his breath as he sails through a yellow light at top speed.
“I can’t breathe,” Jackie says.
“Easy, Kitten.” I face forward and glance at her.
Clutching her chest, she gasps for air. “I can’t. Breathe.” Jackie faints.
See? Too soft.
Such a shame.
three
JO
Collapsing in on myself, I slouch over and knock my head against the window. I take slow breaths. The driver is yelling in Spanish, and the only part I understand is when he calls me a bitch. Or, at least, I think that’s what he says. Kind of rude considering I fainted—or fake fainted, but semantics.
“Chill, Vette. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“She better fucking be, Mac. We didn’t need a hostage.”
“Okay,Lark.” Mac snorts. “Please, neither of you objected. She was the backup plan.”
“We don’t need the plan anymore, especially if she’s going to die in the car,” Vette shouts.
It’s all so funny, it’s hard not to laugh. I’m supposed to be unconscious, not having the time of my life fooling these buffoons. I don’t recognize any of their voices, but that doesn’t mean anything. There are plenty of thieves in Philly.
“So dramatic.” Mac slides closer. Pushing aside my hair, he places two fingers at the pulse point on my neck. I swear my heart skips a beat at the touch. “We’ve got a live one.”
“We’ll dump her in a park.” Vette’s so charming.
The SUV hits a bump, so I propel myself forward, slipping the hand Mac can’t see into my bra and grabbing the tranq. Guess it’ll come in handy after all.
“Easy, bro.” Mac gently sets me straight, and I groan, resting my head in his lap. He’s too stunned to do much of anything for a second. He moves the hair from my face when he recovers, but I keep my eyes shut. “Jackie?”
He almost sounds concerned.
I shift my foot. I’ll only have one shot, so I have to do this right. Moaning in agony, I wrap an arm around his waist, fingers glancing across the cool metal hilt of his throwing knife. Mac is too distracted to notice me feeling up his blade.
Vette makes a sharp turn, and I shift in Mac’s lap, burying my face against his thigh.
“Damn, Jackie.”
I hate that name on his lips, but I ignore the omega instinct to make this alpha mine. The car begins to slow, and I take a deep breath. I wait until it’s almost stopped before flicking the cap off the needle and stabbing Mac in the leg with the tranq. He grunts, and I grab the knife, sitting up and placing it against his throat.
Those icy blue eyes flare with interest. Too bad the mask is hiding his face. I’d bet this stolen money that Mac is fine as hell.
“Kitten?” he asks, a trickle of laughter slipping past his lips.
“Whoa,” the alpha in the passenger seat says.
I slide my gaze to meet his light green eyes.
Green eyes are my weakness.
