Page 66 of Nest of Thieves
“Nice try, mami.”
I frown. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Pour it out,” Vette says to Lark.
Lark takes the whiskey and empties the bottle into the sink.
“Well, you just wasted perfectly good alcohol.”
“Unless you poisoned it.” Vette pours the shots. I take the one with the flower and wait for the guys to grab theirs.
“Like I carry poison with me.” I roll my eyes.
“¡Salud!” Vette says.
Lark and Mac repeat the word, and they clink glasses in a move so practiced it almost makes me regret dousing their cups in sedative.
Almost.
They toss the shots back and I follow suit, hissing at the burn shooting down my throat. Vette snickers and pours another four shots. We take them.
“I’m starving,” Mac says, opening a pizza box.
I try not to watch the clock while they eat. Mac makes it through half of his third beer before his face contorts and he drops what has to be his fifth slice of pizza.
Oral sedatives always take longer.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters.
“You okay, man?” Lark asks just before he drops to the floor. Vette and Mac follow him down.
I wince, hoping no one cracked their head on the tile.
“Well, now that that’s out of the way, I’m starving.” I take a slice of pizza and hop off the stool, carrying it with me on my way to the office. Because they hadn’t planned on being sedated, the office is open. I smirk and push through the door. The desk is covered in paper. I take a bite of pizza and chew, walking around the giant wooden monstrosity. Honestly, mahogany is so nineteen-nineties. I place the slice of pizza on a paper free spot and sort through the mess. Invoices. Spreadsheets with numbers that mean nothing to me without context to understand them. Case files, sort of like what Laurence would send me, only less organized. I take a little pride in my former boss’s attention to detail.
When I create my empire, it’ll be organized. Nothing like this chaotic stack. I stare at a picture of a man. Ronald Kent. Fifty-one. Pretty attractive for an older man. The gray speckled beard speaks to me.Would I like a daddy?I pick up my pizza and take another bite.
Nah. I don’t think I would. I’ve never enjoyed the wholelet the alpha take care of you and all will be finebullshit OU tried to shove down my throat. I don’t want a daddy. I want a partner in crime. I want someone to share the empire with, but not someone who is going to tell me what to do, how to do it, and when to do it.
Ronald Kent, whoever he is, has a target on his back. I’m curious, but not enough to get sidetracked. I’m in here for one thing, and one thing only. The name of their boss. I drop the paper and sit in the fancy chair, tapping on the space bar and taking another bite of pizza.
Grace is thy name.
There’s a lock screen. Of course, there is. Growling, I move to the desk drawers. I don’t know enough about the guys to try and guess a password, and the sedative will only last for so long. The first drawer is full of office supplies. I open the next one, rifling through a small stack of business cards. I frown and start to close it, pausing when my eyes catch on a small skull symbol I missed at first glance. Stamped in black in the corner of the card sits the same skull from the ring the guys all wear.
Jackpot. I shove the last of the pizza into my mouth and grab the card, flipping it over.
Damien Chadworth.
There are two numbers listed. One for emergencies and the other for regular calls, I guess. I lean back in the seat and smile. It was easier than I thought it might be, but that’s fine by me. I take the card with me and head to my room. I pack a slim purse that fits Mac’s knife, a small wad of cash, and my cell. The guys are still passed out in the kitchen when I pass through. The sedative will work for a few more hours. They’ll be fine but will wake up with one hell of a hangover. My eyes skate over the full garage. With so many pretties, how does one choose?
The Aston Martin is gorgeous, but I’m leaning toward the Corvette. There’s a small pegboard on the wall that holds all the keys, and I grab the set I need. The low-slung sports car purrs to life, the reverberations rumbling through my body and rattling my bones. Revving the engine a few times, I grip the wheel and let the rush of theft wash over me. My heart is racing, and even though the guys are down for the count, there’s still a tremor in my hands.
What if they wake up?
What if they catch me?
The questions race through my mind. Fear lances through me, and I suck in a sharp breath as more adrenaline pumps through my body. My body’s fight or flight instinct kicks into overdrive until my head starts to feel a little funny. There it is. The high I chase. It’s no better than shooting up drugs, but at least this is a high I can somewhat control.
