Page 92 of Nest of Thieves
“I want to stay and help.” This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
“Everyone will be looking for a blonde in a black dress,” Mac says. “You can’t stay, Kitten.”
“What about Vette?”
Mac shrugs. “Vette looks like every other man out here.”
“There are a dozen blonde women in black dresses.”
“None that look like you,” he says, leaning his face toward mine. “Please go with Lark.”
He doesn’t command me. That’s the only reason I agree. Vette and Lark trade keys, and we set off, heading toward the Corvette. Away from the chaos and fun. Away from the cacophony of victorious shouts pouring out of the casinos on the main drag.
I side-eye Lark. “So, how’d you do it?”
“A thief never reveals his secrets.”
“Come on, Lark. I had to wrestle with Vette on the floor and make a fool of myself.” I itch my head. The wig is starting to get uncomfortable.
“It was a good fight.”
“Thanks. What’s part three?”
He unlocks the car and steps in front of me, opening the passenger door and ignoring my question.
“So chivalrous and yet so rude.”
“Get in the car, smartass.”
“Kiss your mother with that mouth?” I ask, batting my eyelashes while I take my seat.
Lark shuts the door and rounds the hood, sliding into his seat. “I don’t know my mother.”
“Fuck. Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be. Besides, these lips are filthy.” Winking at me, he turns the engine over and starts the drive back to the house. “Mac and I were working the cage. Your fight offered the distraction we needed to take the chips.”
“What about the cameras?”
“What about them?” He cuts his gaze toward me. “They’re on a loop. The footage security is seeing isn’t real time. It’ll take them a bit to figure it out, but we’re already gone. As soon as Mac and Vette cash the chips, we’ll have cash and then—” He cuts off.
“And then you immediately hand the money over to your boss.”
“Only some of it.” Lark shifts gears and guns it on a straightaway. The engine purrs beneath us, the vibrations rumbling through me. “You and Vette make a cute couple,” he says to distract me.
“I think he enjoyed the fight,” I muse.
“Probably. Vette doesn’t mind a bit of pain.”
“And you? You don’t mind a bit of voyeurism?” I glance out the window, staring at the vibrant lights as they whiz by.
“I don’t mind watching,” he says, not missing a beat.
“Do you mind joining?” I ask, glancing at him.
His eyes hood and he licks his lips. “Do you want me to join?”
“It doesn’t feel right without you.”
