Page 75 of Nest of Thieves
There are few people I do trust. Tori and Sammy. Laurence can’t be trusted. If I let the guys in and they make one wrong move, reveal one ill intention, it would destroy me. Mac was right. I am scared, but the potential benefits might outweigh my fear. I’ve never experienced what these men make me feel. They make my blood boil. They make my heart race. They make my core ache. They make me feel alive.
That doesn’t change the reality of the situation. Laurence gave me sixty days to get the ring back. I’ve tried to call the number on the business card I found a few times after that first call. Damien hasn’t answered since our first conversation where Mac almost caught me. I can’t say for certain that Damien is their boss, but he’s the best lead I have so far, and I can’t give up.
A knock sounds at my door. I was wondering how long they’d leave me alone. Yesterday, they left the house for most of the day, and while I was bored, it was nice to have some space. I would have explored the city, but they hid the keys to the other vehicles. I didn’t want to waste cash on a cab, so I ended up hanging out in the indoor pool room in the basement. I was hoping they’d leave again today, but it seems my good luck has run out.
“Come in,” I say, not moving from where I sit with Atticus.
Lark eases the door open, his gaze scouring the room before landing on me. He leans against the threshold, taking Atticus in without batting an eyelash.
“You’ve been up here all morning. You didn’t eat lunch.” Lark’s gaze slips to the bag of suppressants, an annoyed look settling across his face the longer he stares at them.
My heart flutters. He’s been keeping track of me all day?
“I’m trying out intermittent fasting.”
His green eyes shine with amusement and the frown slips away. “How’s that going for you?”
Standing, I walk to the vivarium and lower my arm so Atticus can slither onto his branch. I grab a mouse from the small container I placed them in, holding it by the tail and lowering it inside for Atticus. His tongue flicks out and tastes the air. I replace the lid and watch him descend from his perch. The mouse frantically runs back and forth.
“Funny, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?” Lark asks, coming to stand next to me. His forearm brushes over mine, but I don’t move away.
“The mouse is already dead. I know it. You know it. Atticus knows it. Even so, it’s trying to escape.”
“We all fight to survive, no matter how bad the odds are.”
I hum and turn toward him. His black hair is loose, the front lock braided and tucked behind his ear. His eyes are on Atticus devouring the mouse. Lark is the most reasonable of the group, as far as I can tell.
“I don’t like being played.”
His eyes cut to mine. “You think we’re playing you?”
“Aren’t you?”
His dark eyebrows pull down, his porcelain skin wrinkling. “Is this about what we said the other night?”
“It’s about everything.” I search his face. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe you all would ignore everything I’ve done and let it be?”
“Do you really think we’re petty enough to hold it against you after what we did to you?”
That surprises me. His knuckles brush over my wrist, and butterflies erupt in my stomach, fluttering around and trying to make a fool out of me.
“Did you take a suppressant?”
“What’s it to you?”
He doesn’t answer, instead saying, “Forgiveness is a choice. We’re making that decision.”
“Are you saying we’re even?”
“I’m saying—” His phone rings, cutting him off. Frowning, he grabs it from his pocket. He ignores it and sighs. “I think what we’d all like is a chance to start fresh. A clean slate.”
“I’m not giving up the ruby.” I can’t.
He frowns. “Jo, it’s impossible. We’ve already—” The phone rings again. “What?” he answers, shooting me an apologetic look.
Atticus has swallowed most of the mouse, and I watch as the snake feeds. I used to get sad when I fed him, but now I’ve learned it’s nature. Sometimes things have to die.
